It means, for instance, having your body clock adjusted to the rhythm of the sea the sun and the moon. 

It means knowing the wind by name. Feeling the northerly on your face and smelling the southerly in the heaviness of the air; treating the shade in the midday heat as the world’s most precious possession.

Having beautiful names for winds, each more poetic than the other: meltem, bora, mistral. Even when they cause havoc.

Naming every branch of the Mediterranean Sea differently: the Aegean, the Adriatic. And respecting their differences.

It means planting vines. For the table, for wine, and for rakı.

Knowing the season for figs, grapes, eggplants, artichokes, tomatoes. Climbing trees to pick cherries, or taking a walk among the bushes to collect berries.

Preferring bulgur over quinoa. Making herb-filled flatbreads; knowing which day the market sets up in which neighbourhood, and knowing the best vendors by name.

It means regarding olive oil not as a condiment, but as a cornerstone.

Knowing the exact olive varieties and pressing methods of your favourite vendor. Discussing the bitterness and burn of freshly pressed oil. Going for early-harvest, cold-pressed extra virgin olive oil as if your life depends on it. Because, it kinda does. 

It means recognising every kind of herb and wild green, knowing which ones to boil, which to sauté, which to crack an egg into.

And while being mistaken for a vegetarian because of all that, loving every kind of meat, from kokoreç to kebap.

Preferring crowded tables where family and friends gather, everyone hungry for good conversation as well as good food, to dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Having a fully stocked spice cabinet, even if your kitchen is tiny.

It means eating everything that comes from the sea. Well, almost. 

Planting roses for spring, lavender for summer, cypress for the shade, citrus for the fruit. And pine. Lots of pine.

Preferring the outdoors. For exercise, dinners, coffee with friends, or simply getting lost in your thoughts.

It means never – and I mean never – spending a day without a good coffee or an apéritif. Preferably both. 

Being a little bit nomad-like in life, a bit of a belly dancer at every wedding.

Believing yourself a peace-loving person, but ready to go to war for your favourite sports team. 

It means being proud of the land you call home, while deep down knowing that it has seen empires form and perish. And will continue to do so.

Knowing that family is sacred, even when they drive you crazy. That your mother will call twice before noon, and you will answer both times, pretending the second one wasn’t excessive. 

Having friends who feel like family, and family who, occasionally, you wish were merely acquaintances. Having someone for every hour of the day — one for morning coffee, one for holidays, and one for the long dinners that end too late. 

It means getting emotional because of a song, a memory, or the sight of the national flag. And not being afraid to show it.

Being Mediterranean means being a little laid-back — doing everything in its own time, never in a rush. Being able to say “let it go” when needed.

And finally, being Mediterranean means living life not by the clock, but a little by the season, the wind, the sea, and the harvest.