Why We Decided Not to Travel to Turkey Right Now

In early April, Carla and I had planned to spend three weeks in Turkey, with time in Istanbul, Cappadocia, and the coastal town of Alaçatı. It was one of the parts of

this journey we were most excited about. Turkey offers so much history, culture, and beauty, and we were eager to experience more of it.

But over the past several days, we made the difficult decision to cancel that part of our trip. The reason is the war involving the United States, Israel, and Iran.

Even though our travel dates are still about a month away, we know that war is unpredictable. Things can change quickly, and everything we’re seeing suggests this conflict is not likely to end anytime soon. With that much uncertainty, we simply no longer feel comfortable traveling into that region.

Part of that concern has to do with the people leading this conflict. Our president has shown again and again that he can be impulsive, erratic, and undisciplined. Those are troubling qualities in any leader, but especially dangerous when war is involved. When major decisions are being made by unpredictable people, it becomes much harder to feel at ease.

Geography also played a role. Iran borders Turkey to the east. Yes, Turkey is a NATO member, and that makes a direct attack unlikely. But Carla and I talked about it at length, and in the end, we decided we simply did not want to take that chance.

There was another factor too. Family members have already begun worrying about our plans, and we don’t want the people who love us carrying that worry while we move around the world. We care deeply about travel, but part of traveling responsibly means considering how our choices affect the people close to us.

And our concern goes beyond physical safety.

Since the attacks on Iran, we’ve noticed a growing anti-American feeling here in Europe. You can hear it in conversations. Many of the people we talk to see the United States as having escalated a war against a country that posed no immediate threat to American security, and that is clearly shaping how America is being viewed right now.

Turkey, like much of the region, has felt deep sympathy for Palestinians during the war in Gaza. In a country that is 99% Muslim, it is completely understandable that many people would feel anger and heartbreak as they watch fellow Muslims in Gaza suffer so terribly. And because the United States has stood so closely with Israel, I understand why that anger often extends to America as well.

There is also a more personal layer for me. In addition to being American, I move through the world with a very visibly Jewish name: Simcha Weinstein. That, too, shapes how I think about being in Turkey right now.

But I want to be very clear about something. That does not mean I see Turkey as antisemitic, and it does not mean I have any negative feelings toward the Turkish people for what many of them are feeling in this moment. Not at all. I have been to Turkey several times  and find the people there to be welcoming and generous. I also think there is a real difference between hostility toward Jewish people and anger over what Israel is doing in Gaza. Those are not the same thing, and it is important not to confuse them.

It is more that the United States has helped create and intensify this crisis, and that has stirred deep and understandable feelings in both people and countries across the region.

Still, when I put all of those pieces together - being American, carrying a clearly Jewish name, and traveling in a country where emotions around this war are understandably so intense - it simply does not feel like the right moment for me personally to be there.

So instead of going to Turkey, we’ve decided to return to Montenegro for those three weeks after we finish our month in Croatia. It won’t be Kotor, where we’ve already spent four weeks. This time we’ll head to the coastal town of Budva, which we’re looking forward to seeing.

Inevitably, one of the realities of slow travel is that plans change. Weather changes. Circumstances change. Some doors open and others close. Part of this lifestyle is learning how to adapt and let the journey shift as it needs to.

What troubles me most is not that our plans have changed or that we won’t get to visit a place we were looking forward to seeing. In the larger scheme of things, that is insignificant. What affects me far more deeply is the sorrow of watching my own country once again become involved in war, unnecessarily, while innocent people pay the price. Thousands of lives, including the lives of children, are not collateral to some grand idea of freedom. They are human lives, each one irreplaceable.

What makes it even harder is how deeply out of step it leaves me feeling with my own country. None of this reflects how Carla and I see the world or what we believe about human life, dignity, compassion, or peace. But strangers we meet cannot know that. All they see is that we are Americans, and in that moment we are inevitably linked, however unwillingly, to what our country is doing. There is a deep sadness in carrying that as we move through our travels.

In bombing Iran, our government has forgotten something essential: every nation is made up not of abstractions, but of people. People who love, hope, struggle, laugh, grieve, and dream, much as we do. People who should have the chance to wake up tomorrow and continue their lives in peace. Many now will not. And here in Europe, that truth seems more clearly understood. There is a deeper recognition that bombs do not deliver freedom, and that devastation is not diplomacy.

My hope is that the United States awakens to a more compassionate understanding of our shared humanity. What we do not need is yet another war wrapped in the language of freedom and liberation.

So yes, we’re disappointed to miss our Turkish adventure this time. But when this war quiets down and the region feels more stable, we will return. We will return because Turkey’s beauty, history, culture, and people still draw us. And we will return because fear and war should not have the final word. For now, stepping away feels like the wise choice. But one day, with hope, peace, and open hearts, we fully intend to make our way back.