I’m sitting in my little room tucked somewhere narrow and tight in Istanbul, nestled on top of a bustling cobble-stoned street wide enough to barely squeeze in one car. I’ve just arrived and can already feel the spirit of the city swell and devour me. But that is why I came here; to be swallowed, washed of any prejudice and immersed in culture. There’s a smell that I can only describe as Turkey: sultry and nostalgic, caressing my jet-lagged adrenaline to a meek and calm fatigue. It’s a smell marinated in humidity and city smog yet, despite its thickness, still seems so refreshing. Lingering perfume wafts through the air, a never absent concoction luring you out of your room and into the streets. Although I’ve been to Istanbul before, I miss it as if I live here.
I leave my bnb early the next day, greeting the cool morning with an iced latte from Besiktas Viyana Kahvesi. Today, I’ve left my earphones in my room and tuned myself to pick up echos of an ancient city.