I remember years ago, my cousin came back from a European adventure and showed me pictures of his experiences and documented his findings across each country. I sat and watched with admiration but mostly with intrigue. He brought back Turkish coffee and told me stories about the infamous Hammam. I giggled at the thought of someone scrubbing you clean on a marble slab somewhere in the Middle East. He had this ridiculous fake Gucci turban and told me this is how the men stay cool during warm summer months. I googled pictures of Istanbul and verbalized, “One day I’d like to go there.” Did I mean it? In the moment, probably not. It’s just something you say. “One day.” But I’ll never forget how I felt looking at those pictures, the shiny gold domes of the mosques and the mosaics on the walls. The busy alleys of the bazaar and the ferries crossing the Bosphorus. It felt like a completely unattainable world. Something out of a dream. It inspired me to dream. Maybe one day, I actually will make it there. 

And then I forgot about Istanbul entirely.

Until years later, I was on a flight to the city where Asia meets Europe. 

I’ll skip the parts of how I got there. Because you are all familiar with my journey to Turkey. But Istanbul was a highlight that I want to revisit. And in words, show my love and appreciation for one of the most iconic cities in the world. 

I loved it the moment we hopped on the metro and made our way to Kadıköy. A culturally pleasing and artistic neighbourhood that sits on the Asian side of the city. It’s right by the water and has so much to see. We explored a whole alley of books! Turkish bookstores boasting their collections of every kind of book. Even printing & binding English books for you within the hour. The cats lazed about and slept wherever they pleased which often meant the most inconvenient place for a shopper. We ate Lebanese food and soaked in the sights. The buildings were bright and colourful! Streets narrow. Music playing at every corner. Scooters flying past you sharing the few feet wide sidewalk at times. Collecting souvenirs and memories, hoping I’d be able to recall them once I had left. We then travelled across the deep blue straight on a ferry and listened to live Turkish music and I saw the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia for the first time. Both in perfect view from our ferry. The backdrop to an already perfect moment. The sun was just behind them creating this silhouette of two grand buildings that hold thousands of years of history. 

In that moment, I knew that my once dream had become reality. That when I spoke the words “one day,” I actually meant it. I was living in it. 

We had made it across to the European side and it had quite a different feel. It felt older. Buildings stacked on top of one another and streets even more narrow than the last. We made our way up to the Galata Tower. Its functions were various over the years, but it’s beauty remained the same. A jail, observatory, or watchtower, the tower has stories. In 1609, Hezarfen Ahmet Çelebi was the first ‘flying person’ as he took off from the tower with his artificial wings. An unforgettable moment for Turkish aviation history. We spent a lot of time at the top of the tower, soaking in the amazing sights of Istanbul. We could see the Asian side and more clearly of the mosques. We saw bridges and rooftop restaurants. Instagram models trying to get their perfect photo with a hundred seagulls flying around, being coaxed by a skilled photographer. We watched the ferries come and go and the fishermen bait their next hook. And directly below us we could see tourists, enjoying what is one of the worlds most ancient cities. 

A couple of days later, we ventured over to see the Hagia Sophia. And that was a highlight for me. It meant alot. It’s one of those locations that you read about in books, and wondered what it looked like inside. Or at least I did. It was really just something I’d only ever imagined from a page in a book. But when I arrived, with a headscarf on, and my shoes put away in an old wooden shelf, it became very real. The marble floor at the entryway had a deep curve, worn in from the millions of feet that crossed over into this historic place. The ceilings seemed as if they were painted with gold. Images of Mary and Jesus were covered by a white sheet. Ancient murals displayed the strange relationship between Christianity and Islam. The mosque was filled with tourists, some respectful and some not. Some covered with scarves but some with shopping bags. We sat and observed. Watching people trying to find a connection to God. It was an unforgettable experience. 

That day we ended up spending the evening by the seaside and eating a delicious meal. Hot wings. Comfort food. I didn’t get to see many other famous locations but I knew I would come back. Because the city filled me with a feeling. When I got off the metro at Kadıköy and walked up the stairs to the busy intersection, I felt this wave of stimulation mixed with excitement, joy, and anxiety. Once I had grasped my surroundings and started walking towards the nearest Starbucks, I realized that I was very distracted by what was going on. And for the first time, in a long time, I wasn’t overthinking. The endless stream of thoughts that bounce around in my head were gone. I felt that way a few times while I was there. It forced me to be present. Istanbul requires so much of you, that you simply cannot overthink. It demands your attention and even your love. You can’t help but be in awe. I was also surrounded by the arts. Music, book stores, leather shops, artisan boutiques, ancient buildings, European architecture, and amazing food. The list goes on. My mind was full of wonder and appreciation. Especially for the people. The kindness of the Turkish never goes unnoticed. 

I remember we walked back across a bridge at dusk, and I stopped to take a few videos. We past many women who were covered, only their faces showing and some only their eyes. And then there was the men, fishing or smoking. Or both. The way they’ve done it for hundreds of years. But I specifically remember this little boy who had caught a small fish and kept him in his bucket. He was crouched over and admiring his catch. A grin on his face and a bit of concern too. He ran over to his dad and asked something in Turkish. The dad spoke to him patiently. I felt joy for this little boy and also compassion. He will never know that his hometown was once a bucket list item for me. That I hope for a time where I can experience life in the same city that will shape him as a person. But me? I am aware of the struggles him and his family face. At least in a general sense. I do know what it’s like to live in North America. I can see the difference in the culture and standard of living. Yet I yearn for this city full of wonder rather than wealth. I felt an ache to encourage him to keep catching fish and never give up! But instead I stored the memory in my mind. 

I left Istanbul with a different mindset. A motivated one. Exposed to many cultures, languages, and environments, I felt a push to keep pursuing another crazy dream. To pursue learning Farsi, in Istanbul? 

Well, maybe one day.

All love,

Jaydia

PS. Thank you for reading this blog, my love letter to Istanbul! Share with me your favourite part!