city love.
My journal has been constantly in my hands, on my lap, and in front of my face for the past couple of weeks. I’ve written countless pages in just the past few days. That’s more than I’ve written all year. So I have to wonder why I’ve just now begun to really write. Every feeling that passes, good and bad, I want to account for it.
Right now, as inspired by my friend Conor, the city is what I want to talk about.
A few weeks ago, I found out that my mom and nana are coming to Istanbul in March. It was a complete shock to me, but I was excited. They get to taste this city. Walk the streets, breathe in the history, experience the culture and best of all, meet my Turkish family. I’m happy that they get to touch this place and that my two families get to become real to each other. That’s so important to me. I can’t even express it.
The city. There are so many elements of this place.
The Bosphorus.
The white lines that tail the boats and imprint upon intensely blue water.
The vibrant colors and richness of the landscape.
The twists and turns and winding slopes that make every car excursion feel like an exciting roller coaster ride.
The shadow blanket that covers pieces of the city at a time as the sun rises and falls behind the hills.
The warmth and scent of the ever present Simit, baking to perfection nearby.
The priority for breakfast or at least çay.
The ease of a practiced routine as people make their way to work or school.
The bravery of the pedestrians waltzing naturally in to oncoming traffic.
The joy of getting a seat on the bus or at least a comfortable place to stand.
The street savoir-faire.
The hurry of the cars even in practically stand-still traffic.
The tricked out horns on the mini buses.
The variety of people that walk the streets and the different languages heard in passing.
The willingness of people to help new-comers.
The continuous hospitality and friendly smiles in the businesses.
The morning fog that fills the valleys and hovers over the Bosphorus.
The crisp breeze on a ferry crossing from one continent to the other.
The wise-looking, bearded men who stand on the edge of the strait with their lines cast.
The aroma and warmth of freshly cooked fish when one steps off the boat in Kadıköy.
The simplicity and safety of Levent.
The energetic buzz around Kuruçeşme and all the clubs and cafes.
The interesting sites and people walking down İstiklal.
The beautifully historic wonders of the old city.
The hard and weary structures that stand across the Golden Horn.
The depth, complexity, and vast internationality of the Grand Bazaar.
The reverent quiet of Sultan Ahmet or the Blue Mosque and the brilliance of its design.
The power of the ancient Hagia Sophia that holds incredible history and has remained standing through countless earthquakes.
The call to prayer.
The vastness of the sea and the endless history touching its waves.
The noise of the city fades away some times. On Saturday morning, I sat on the terrace of a cafe in Bebek, marveling at this place in which I’m so blessed to find myself.
There are no words.
