It began with a pair of flip flops and a carry-on packed with equal parts excitement and underpreparedness. Michelle and I were heading to Istanbul, a city older than history textbooks.
On May 15, 2015, we boarded a Lufthansa flight from Washington Dulles. The plan was simple: fly to Frankfurt, change planes, arrive in Istanbul, and somehow not look like jet-lagged zombies. We succeeded—mostly. By the time we touched down at Atatürk Airport on May 16, the city was already whispering stories to us in the call to prayer, the hum of taxi horns, and the scent of roasted chestnuts dancing in the breeze.
We checked into the Basileus Hotel, a cozy gem tucked in the Old City. Our welcome was warm. Our room was small but charming. Our feet? Still blissfully unaware of what was to come.
Getting Lost in Time
That first evening, we let the city lead. From our hotel, we wandered toward Taksim Square, letting each step unfold the story—unwritten, unhurried, entirely ours.
In Gülhane Park, roses leaned into the breeze, and the air shimmered with memories older than stone. We wandered through Cihangir, past staircases and sleepy cafés, where ordinary moments felt touched by magic.
Near Taksim, we paused at a street tea stand—balancing tulip glasses on plastic stools, cracking into baklava as sweet as the evening light. It wasn’t fancy. It was perfect.
The Galata Tower greeted us at dusk—silent, golden, and timeless. We didn’t climb. We simply looked up and breathed in the wonder.
Dinner was warm, garlicky, and nameless. But in that moment, we weren’t lost. We were exactly where we were meant to be.
Far from home. But not lost.
Sultans, Cisterns, and Suds
The next day was a whirlwind of domes and minarets. We stood in awe beneath the Hagia Sophia, wandered the marble courtyards of Topkapi Palace, and listened to silence echo beneath the Blue Mosque’s majestic arches.
In the Basilica Cistern, dim lights glowed on water, and ancient Medusa heads stared up from the shadows. I tried to take a dramatic selfie, but Michelle photobombed me mid-blink. Classic.
Minarets and Marketplaces
We dove into the Grand Bazaar, where color and chaos danced—spices, silks, lanterns, and laughter around every corner. The Egyptian Bazaar followed, rich with saffron, sweets, and warm smiles.
The Suleymaniye Mosque offered calm—its quiet courtyard and soaring arches a moment of stillness amid the city’s hum. From there, we glimpsed the proud stretch of the Aqueduct of Valens, bridging centuries over Istanbul’s tangled streets.
In the afternoon, we stood beneath the Blue Mosque once more, drawn back by its quiet magnetism. Then we climbed the Galata Tower, where Istanbul unfolded beneath us—rooftops, minarets, the silver curve of the Bosphorus.
We skipped Dolmabahçe Palace, choosing instead to drift down Istiklal Street toward the lights of Taksim Square. Music spilled from cafés, baklava sparkled behind glass, and the city moved to its own heartbeat.
By day’s end, our legs had surrendered—but our wonder hadn’t. So, we climbed the stairs to Khorasani Restaurant, where the air smelled of fire-grilled lamb and laughter. Over warm bread and smoky kebabs, we toasted to the kind of day that stays with you forever.
On the way back to our hotel, we paused once more at the base of the Galata Tower, now lit like a lantern in the night. The city whispered around us, and we lingered—grateful, full, and quietly in love with Istanbul.
The Last Drift
Our final day, May 19, was for drifting. We boarded at the Bosphorus pier, the city still stretching awake. Past the graceful arches of Buyuk Mecidiye Mosque and the colorful wooden homes of Arnavutköy, we sailed in quiet wonder.
The mighty Rumeli Fortress stood watch as the Bosphorus Bridge joined two continents overhead. At the elegant Cepetciler Pavilion, time seemed to pause.
We landed at Anadolu Kavağı, climbed toward its ancient fortress, and looked out over the water—endless, calm, and full of stories.
There were no plans. Just tea, sunlight, and the kind of silence that says everything.
Fifty Miles and Forever
We walked fifty miles in those flip-flops. Saw continents kiss. Tasted time in every bite of baklava. We came looking for adventure but left carrying memories we couldn’t have planned if we tried.
Istanbul gave us more than we asked for. It gave us a feeling we’d chase in every journey after: that wide-eyed wonder of being somewhere ancient, magical, and completely new.
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