It’s the year 2006. Aytaç is 9 years old and in 4th grade. He is such a nerd about astronomy and space that he accidentally got into astrology at some point. While his teacher is talking about the 9 planets of the Solar System, he is going “Ummm, actually…” on her, reminding her about Ceres, Eris and the newly discovered Sedna, the other planets of the solar system. It’s an important day, as there will be an eclipse that day! He is full of excitement but he also forgot to take his eclipse glasses with him to school.
I knew that Istanbul wasn’t on the path of totality, but in a mix of excitement and denial, that wasn’t really stopping me. I kept talking to my friends about today being eclipse day but, as expected from 9 year olds, no one else really shared my enthusiasm. I was trying to estimate whether the eclipse lines up with the recess between classes but it wasn’t looking great. Before class, I had asked my teacher for permission to leave class but she simply refused. So I was obviously sulking this whole time, as visibly as possible. After some time, the eclipse started, and I was still in a classroom with no windows. At that point, I was ready to make a scene. “Please let me ouut, it already started! If I don’t see it, I won’t get to see another full eclipse until 2060. That’s such a long time, I’ll be 64!! Will I even live that long?!” The teacher ran out of patience after a while and (probably realising the validity of my argument) she let me go out.
It was time for the next problem. I didn’t have my eclipse glasses with me, but as a proper little nerd, I had a plan B. I had read something earlier, describing what to do if you don’t have glasses during an eclipse. (I don’t remember where a 9 year old found that kind of information in 2006 without Youtube, Instagram or any meaningful access to the modern internet.) I went to the the water dispenser to get some plastic cups, grabbed my scissors and a needle to craft something that would work. I still remember seeing the shape of a partially eclipsed sun. Others followed after me but I was too focused to fully notice. I think one of the other teachers also lent me their glasses to take a look at some point. I didn’t experience a full eclipse that day, as it was geographically not possible, but I got to see my first partial eclipse. Mission successful! 🙂
Then, we arrive at 2024. Aytaç is 27. He’d heard about the upcoming total eclipse in the US and is checking maps to see how close the path of totality is to where his sister lives, and estimating what it would take to go there.
Even when I called her to ask if we could drive 4 hours and 2 states away to see it, I was torn. My inner child and outer adult were discussing whether a 2-minute event is worth the intercontinental flight, vacation days, money and energy. My sister was going to be visiting me in a month in Munich anyways, which made this trip feel extra inefficient. But in the end, decisions were made. In hindsight, they were absolutely the correct ones.
The moment of totality (when the sun is dark) only lasts about two minutes, but there’s a whole journey before you get there. Even after landing, there’s still the question of where exactly to go to catch the eclipse, where to stay, and what time to leave to avoid the flood of eclipse chasers. Eclipses cause traffic! After getting through all of that, we found ourselves sitting on the grass in front of a small-town municipal building in the middle of nowhere, alongside about a thousand other people, waiting for the big moment.
Even once the eclipse begins, it takes nearly an hour for the moon to fully cover the sun. Throughout that time, you’re not supposed to look directly at the sun, at all. Every time there is a solar eclipse, hospitals end up treating people for eye injuries because someone had to take a look. Search terms like “why do my eyes hurt” spike on Google. As the moon neared full coverage that day, the crowd was focused in anticipation. Through the eclipse glasses, that red crescent of sunlight got thinner and thinner until it was just a tiny dot. And once that final sliver disappeared, we all took off our glasses to look straight at the sun.
I saw a comment on Reddit: “Even a 99% partial eclipse is still 0% of a total eclipse.” I cannot tell you how right that sentence is. The second that last red dot vanished, it was 3 p.m. and the sky suddenly went dark, dark enough to see stars. The wind picked up from the moon’s shadow, and a warm day where I’d been sweating in a t-shirt suddenly turned cold enough for a jacket. The sun, something I’d never dare to look at, had turned into a black void in the sky. It sounds simple: “Looking at the sun”. But we never do it. We normally can’t. It hurts. So even just looking directly at it was a strange, fascinating act on its own.
Even knowing exactly what I was looking at, there was something wrong about the sight of a dark sun. It was eerie, like something might burst out from it at any second. As I stared at the glowing colors and corona peeking out around the moon, my brain was trying to convince itself that I wasn’t making it all up. No photo I’ve ever seen comes close to the feeling of witnessing it with your own eyes.
I’d always heard that animals behave strangely during eclipses, but I hadn’t considered that humans are animals too. People around me were cheering, clapping, some even screaming with excitement. The way the crowd reacted, it felt like a rockstar had just stepped on stage. And honestly, that was one of my favorite parts, because they were right to cheer. Maybe we should applaud waterfalls, lightning bolts, shooting stars, or a peacock in full display.
When the sun finally peeked out from behind the moon again, I was left with the feeling that I hadn’t taken it in enough. I’d stared at it for two full minutes, yet my brain still refused to fully register it and failed to save the memory properly.
The personal side of this was that if this moment were in a movie, you’d see 9-year-old Aytaç and 27-year-old Aytaç, side by side in a split screen, both looking up at the sky. Then little Aytaç would toss his plastic cups aside, jump into my frame, stare at the sun with eyes wide open and give me a big high five.
“Do the things you loved doing as a kid.” I hear that often, I like hearing it often. Adulthood is a lot, and it was really nice to make my inner child/nerd happy. I’m looking forward to the next solar eclipse (Spain 2026!) and hopefully I’ll get to experience something similar when I finally catch the northern lights or see bioluminescent plankton lighting up the sea some day. 🙂
27.07.2025
