Leav­ing Home to Go Home: Tug­ba’s Sto­ry

What does it mean to leave one home and find anoth­er?

In 2021, Tug­ba White­head left Turkey with more than just a suit­case. Her hus­band had already moved to Oulu to study, and soon she fol­lowed, start­ing her own stud­ies in the Learn­ing, Edu­ca­tion and Tech­nol­o­gy (LET) pro­gramme at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Oulu.

At first, it was a big change. New rou­tines. New cul­ture. A very dif­fer­ent win­ter. But slow­ly, life in Oulu began to feel famil­iar.

She found com­fort in small things like friend­ly faces, shared sto­ries, qui­et rou­tines. She dis­cov­ered new sides of her­self in the process. 

– I didn’t lose myself here…I met anoth­er ver­sion of me. And she belongs. 

Today, she is study­ing Finnish full-time and doing her intern­ship at Inter­na­tion­al House Oulu. The same place where so many new­com­ers start their path. 

For Tug­ba, leav­ing Turkey was not about leav­ing some­thing behind. It was about learn­ing how many places can feel like home. 

Find­ing Bal­ance in the Sea­sons  

When Tug­ba first arrived in Oulu, the sea­sons felt extreme. Espe­cial­ly the win­ter. 

– I used to call it hiber­na­tion. The dark­ness felt long, and the silence out­side made me feel like the world had paused. 

It took time to adjust, but even­tu­al­ly, she stopped resist­ing the cycle of nature and began to move with it. The cold didn’t dis­ap­pear, but her approach to it changed. 

She began to notice how deeply nature shapes life in Fin­land. It wasn’t just a back­drop. It influ­enced how peo­ple rest­ed, gath­ered, and moved through the year. Inspired by this rhythm, she decid­ed to try some­thing new with each sea­son. 

In win­ter, she learned to knit and watched ice hock­ey match­es. She tried down­hill ski­ing, and even ice skat­ing for the first time. One win­ter, she even cross-coun­try skied all the way from Nal­likari to the city cen­ter, just to grab a bite to eat. 

– None of it came eas­i­ly but that wasn’t the point. The point was show­ing up: to the cold, to the moment, to myself. 

Then came sum­mer. For Tug­ba, it felt like nature was final­ly exhal­ing. She swam in lakes, picked berries in the for­est, and learned how to make jam. 

In these small acts, she noticed some­thing deep­er. Hob­bies in Fin­land weren’t just for free time. They were con­nect­ed to the land and the rhythm of life. 

– Nature here didn’t just sur­round me. It trans­formed me. I didn’t just live through the sea­sons. I start­ed liv­ing with them. 

Learn­ing Finnish: More Than Just Words  

From the start, Tug­ba was curi­ous about the Finnish lan­guage. For her, it was nev­er just about learn­ing to speak. It was about some­thing deep­er. 

– I didn’t want to learn Finnish only to com­mu­ni­cate. I want­ed to belong. 

When she first arrived in Oulu, she felt dis­con­nect­ed from the world around her. Peo­ple were friend­ly, but con­ver­sa­tions in shops, on the street, and at day­care moved past her like dis­tant noise. 

– I didn’t just feel for­eign. I felt invis­i­ble. 

This sense of iso­la­tion pushed her to act. She began study­ing Finnish through var­i­ous chan­nels like apps like Duolin­go, cours­es at Vil­la Vic­tor, uni­ver­si­ty lan­guage cafés and last­ly inte­gra­tion train­ing. Every bit helped, but real-life Finnish often felt like a dif­fer­ent lan­guage alto­geth­er. 

– Spo­ken Finnish kept sur­pris­ing me. The inhaled ‘joo’ real­ly con­fused me at first. I thought peo­ple were shocked, but it was just their way of say­ing yes. 

Despite the chal­lenges, she stayed moti­vat­ed. Each small break­through built her con­fi­dence. Slow­ly, she began under­stand­ing jokes, answer­ing at the cash reg­is­ter, and talk­ing to strangers with­out hes­i­ta­tion. 

– Finnish was nev­er just a lan­guage. It was a bridge between the out­sider and the insid­er in me. 

In time, the words no longer felt dis­tant. They became famil­iar and mean­ing­ful. The process wasn’t about mas­ter­ing gram­mar. It was about show­ing up, being curi­ous, and let­ting the lan­guage open doors. 

– Learn­ing Finnish taught me that it’s not about per­fec­tion. It’s about par­tic­i­pa­tion. And every word brought me a lit­tle clos­er to the heart of this place I now call home.

Build­ing Belong­ing Through Work

When Tug­ba first arrived in Oulu, win­ter was already on its way. She found her­self in a new coun­try, with­out a net­work, and with­out the lan­guage yet to bridge the silence. While nav­i­gat­ing bureau­cra­cy to prove her exis­tence on paper, a deep­er need stirred with­in her: the need to be seen. 

– I felt like I had to show that some­one like Tug­ba White­head exists. That I had done things before, and I still had some­thing to offer. 

She start­ed search­ing for work and even­tu­al­ly found a job in a local day­care. It was her first glimpse into Finnish work cul­ture and it left a last­ing impres­sion. 

– I was so hap­py to go to work. It was peace­ful. The staff were love­ly, friend­ly, wel­com­ing, and help­ful. I even found my best friend in Fin­land there. 

Before that, her social cir­cle most­ly came through her hus­band. This job gave her a sense of inde­pen­dence and con­nec­tion. But after some time, she paused work to begin her master’s stud­ies. By then, she had already spent a year in Fin­land but hadn’t yet ful­ly expe­ri­enced life here. 

Dur­ing her stud­ies in the LET pro­gramme, Tug­ba made a clear deci­sion. 

– I told myself I would be active. The gov­ern­ment knew I exist­ed but oth­er than a few five-year-olds and their teach­ers, no one else did. 

She threw her­self into stu­dent life. Her cal­en­dar filled up with events, projects, clubs, par­ties, vol­un­teer work, and net­work­ing oppor­tu­ni­ties. Step by step, she got to know more peo­ple. 

– Soon, I was say­ing hel­lo to so many peo­ple just walk­ing from the entrance to my class­room. I wasn’t feel­ing invis­i­ble any­more. 

These con­nec­tions led to new oppor­tu­ni­ties. She began work­ing in sev­er­al roles at the uni­ver­si­ty, gain­ing expe­ri­ence and learn­ing from men­tors she still appre­ci­ates deeply. 

Now, as part of her inte­gra­tion train­ing, Tug­ba is com­plet­ing her sec­ond intern­ship at Inter­na­tion­al House Oulu. Through it all, one insight has stayed with her. 

– Oulu is a small city. Peo­ple know each oth­er. And know­ing each oth­er builds trust. 

She explains that vis­i­bil­i­ty and net­work­ing are key. Peo­ple need to know who you are, what you can do, and how you work. 

– If they don’t know you, they can’t know if you’re reli­able or a good fit. You have to show them. That’s how you find your place.

Call­ing Oulu Home 

Next month marks four years since Tug­ba arrived in Oulu. Look­ing back, she sees how far she has come. 

– Brick by brick, I made Oulu my home. It was a long way home, but now I have more friends here than in my home coun­try. 

Her jour­ney hasn’t always been easy, but it has been inten­tion­al. Every step she took like learn­ing the lan­guage, work­ing, vol­un­teer­ing, study­ing, build­ing con­nec­tions, helped her feel more root­ed. 

When asked what advice she would give to oth­ers think­ing about mov­ing to Oulu or already liv­ing here, she reflects care­ful­ly. 

– It’s real­ly up to you whether you feel you belong or not. To belong, you can’t just observe. You have to par­tic­i­pate, expe­ri­ence, and con­tribute. 

For Tug­ba, mind­set mat­ters. She encour­ages oth­ers to keep an open heart and be will­ing to grow.

– When a per­spec­tive or thought is no longer serv­ing you, change it. 

She also warns against stay­ing only in famil­iar cir­cles. 

– Don’t build a bub­ble of just inter­na­tion­al friends at the uni­ver­si­ty. Go out, vol­un­teer, explore new hob­bies, take dif­fer­ent cours­es, meet dif­fer­ent peo­ple. Learn the lan­guage. Grow your net­work. 

To her, call­ing a place home means being part of it.  

– How can you belong some­where, if you don’t make that place your home? 

It’s in those small acts that a place stops being for­eign and starts feel­ing like home.