Waiting for my flight a gentleman asked me if I was a journalist, since I was typing on my computer. I told him I was not, but enjoyed writing about my adventures. He said in one day alone you will write five pages about Turkey. I smiled, but with doubt. Staring out the window during the drive into the city from the airport I began to believe this man. 
Istanbul. The only city to lie on two continents, Europe and Asia. A city with high admiration for Atatürk, the once great leader and first president of their country, and strong pride for their culture. On almost every building hangs their bright red flag with the white moon and star distinctly showing. Walking the streets you hear music from all cultures and see both locals, old and young, sipping tea contemplating their next moves in backgammon and homeless cats warming in the sunspots on the cobblestone roads. Eye level will deceive you of the city, for most of the treasurable places sit on the upper levels or terraces.
Six times a day the ezan is chanted. From anywhere in Istanbul you can hear the chant projected from mosque loudspeakers. Although the voice itself was not beautiful to my ear, the sound and meaning of it was heartening. Every time.
Topkapi Palace and the Harem exist within a beautiful park overlooking the sea. Built for the fallen Ottoman Sultans, holding treasures and secrets that were buried with them. Both built beyond their means and equally extraordinary to explore, although their ways with women were repulsive.Cruised to Büyükada, the largest of the Princes’ islands, on the Sea of Marmara. Motorized vehicles are prohibited, leaving horse-drawn carriages, bicycles and your own legs as the modes of transportation. We rode bicycles up and down hills, exploring the lush, picturesque island. Passing through forested parks and neighborhoods filled with sumptuous estates. Finally reaching a local seaside vacation spot. Sunbathed listening to young, vibrant Turkish music watching the calm sea.
Hagia Sophia. A mosque, now museum, I had seen pictures of since a child in history books. The pictures do no justice. Walking through the gigantic doors my breath was taken away by the sole size of the building. Architecturally beautiful, beyond massive, and utterly outstanding. The Blue Mosque. Six minarets show it’s distinctness. Tradition, even for turists, for women to cover their heads, and all to dress conservatively and remove their shoes prior to entering. Cleanliness. Two separate praying areas exist for each gender. The simplicity within the walls moved me.
A cruise up the Bosporus took us to Sariyer. Then a local bus on the scenic route to Kilyos. A small beach town where you can see oil tankers while sunbathing on the white sand. A bit odd, yet enjoyable.And oh the food. And coffee. Turkish coffee. Small dose, great satisfaction. Köfte. A delicious meatball. Kebabs and şiş. Desserts. Pistachio and fig galore. Erik. A mini apple looking tart fruit. Street vendor grilled corn and roasted chestnuts. The language barrier couldn’t hinder my tasting. Luckily when it comes to food you can just point.
