A Trip to Kütahya City in Türkiye

A Day in Kütahya: From a Proud Oath Ceremony to the Quiet Charm of Germiyan Street

Travelling to Kütahya as a family for my brother’s oath ceremony felt like more than just a routine trip. It carried the weight of pride, anticipation, and the warmth that only family journeys can bring. My mother, my sister, and I set out together, each of us feeling a slightly different kind of excitement, but all of us sharing the same emotional thread that tied the day together. It was the kind of journey you remember not only for what you saw, but for what you felt moments of pride, echoes of history, and the simple joy of being together.

Kütahya greeted us with its characteristically calm atmosphere, a city that seems to exist at the intersection of tradition and quiet everyday life. The streets were gentle, the air clear, and the occasional silhouette of tiled buildings reminded us that we had arrived in a place known for its distinctive identity. We weren’t here as tourists this time we were here for my brother, to witness a turning point in his life. Still, the trip would end up becoming a small journey of discovery for us as well.

The Oath Ceremony: A Moment of Pride

The military base where the oath ceremony took place was buzzing with energy. Families from different cities had gathered, each scanning the formation ranks with eager eyes, hoping to spot their sons, brothers, or friends. My mother held her hands tightly as we found our seats. My sister stood beside her, trying to capture every moment with her phone while also soaking in the atmosphere with her own eyes.

The ceremony began with an air of discipline and solemnity. Rows of young soldiers stood perfectly aligned, their uniforms crisp, their expressions serious yet proud. As the speeches echoed across the field, each word seemed to emphasize the significance of the day responsibility, duty, and honor. I looked over at my mother and saw her trying discreetly to hold back tears. The sight of my brother, standing tall among his peers, stirred something in all of us. For a moment, the world seemed to pause, giving space to the collective pride radiating from hundreds of families.

When the soldiers recited the oath, their voices rose in unison, powerful and unwavering. Hearing my brother’s voice among them felt surreal. It was a moment when childhood memories flashed before me him playing in the yard, running around in school uniforms, joking with us at home and suddenly there he was, stepping into adulthood with a new sense of purpose.

After the ceremony concluded, families rushed down to meet the soldiers. The crowd became a mix of embraces, tears, laughter, and photographs being taken from every direction. When my brother finally reached us, my mother hugged him with the kind of embrace that only years of love can shape. My sister clung to him playfully, half laughing, half emotional. And I simply held his shoulder, feeling proud of who he was becoming.

A Stroll Through Germiyan Street

After the rush of emotions at the ceremony, we decided to take my brother out to breathe and enjoy the city a little before heading back home. There was no place better for that than Germiyan Street, one of Kütahya’s most charming and historic corners. The street, known for its traditional houses and cultural atmosphere, felt like the perfect transition from the formal intensity of the ceremony to the quieter, more personal part of our day.

Walking into Germiyan Street felt like stepping into a gentle time capsule. The buildings some restored, some carrying their age proudly lined the street with soft colors and classic Ottoman-style architecture. The wooden balconies, painted shutters, and tiled façades offered more than charm; they offered a glimpse into the soul of Kütahya. My mother slowed her steps a little as we entered the street, looking around with the curious eyes of someone who appreciates the beauty of old things. My sister, of course, started taking pictures immediately.

We wandered casually, letting the street guide us rather than having any specific destination in mind. My brother, fresh from the ceremony and still absorbing the day, walked beside us with a smile that hadn’t left his face since we picked him up. The emotional weight of the morning eased gradually as we moved deeper into the historic street.

Discovering the Old Mansion

At some point during our walk, we came across a beautifully preserved historic mansion one of those quiet treasures that sits unassuming until you step inside and realize how much history lives within its walls. The wooden entrance door, adorned with simple carvings, opened to an interior filled with the muted scents of aged timber and old craftsmanship.

Stepping into the mansion felt like entering another world.

Each room carried a story, not through words but through the objects carefully placed within. Antique chests with iron details sat quietly in the corners, as though they still held secrets from generations before. Delicate porcelain pieces, some painted with traditional motifs, rested behind glass as if guarding the artistic heritage of the city. The worn carpets stretched across the wooden floors, patterns softened by time, and carried the faint echo of countless footsteps.

My mother was particularly fascinated with the old household items copper pots, hand-woven textiles, ornate mirrors with slightly darkened glass. She pointed at each object, wondering out loud about the people who once used them. My sister drifted from room to room, pausing to take photographs but also stopping in silence at pieces that captured her imagination.

My brother, on the other hand, found himself drawn to the wooden architecture of the mansion itself: the beams, the elegantly carved doorframes, the slightly slanted floors that reminded us of how long this place had been standing. The house seemed to breathe in its own quiet rhythm, holding within it the voices of families long gone, traditions once strong, and stories that had faded into time.

As a family, we didn’t rush through the rooms. We let ourselves feel the atmosphere, a mixture of nostalgia and curiosity. Somehow, after the emotional ceremony earlier that day, the old mansion offered a peaceful contrast a place where time slowed down, where the past whispered gently to the present.

Moments That Stay With You

When we finally stepped back outside, the sun was starting to soften, casting long shadows across Germiyan Street. We took our time wandering some more, stopping at a café for tea before leaving. My brother talked about his experience in the military, my mother listened closely, and my sister teased him the way she always does. The street around us was quiet, but alive in its own subtle way locals passing by, the sound of distant footsteps, and the soft breeze carrying the scent of the old wooden houses.

It wasn’t a grand or elaborate trip, but it became one of those days that stay with you because of the emotions woven into it. The pride of the oath ceremony, the serenity of the historic mansion, and the simple joy of spending time together made it special.

A Journey of Family, Memory, and Quiet Beauty

As we left Kütahya later that day, the sky glowing with the early colors of evening, I felt that the trip had given us more than we expected. We had come to see my brother take an important step in his life, but we had also found a piece of the city’s charm for ourselves. Germiyan Street, with its historic homes and silent treasures, felt like the perfect setting for the second half of our day a place that allowed us to breathe deeply, reflect, and enjoy the beauty of the present moment.

In the end, the trip was not only about witnessing a ceremony. It was about celebrating family, embracing history, and finding meaning in a simple walk down an old street. Kütahya gave us a day carved from both pride and peace, one we will remember long after the echoes of that oath fade into the distance.

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All photos were taken by me.