Istanbul, day 1 (ish)

Humans are very adaptable creatures, and too often we allow our lives to become, or at least to feel, mundane. I live in Budapest, and it is my "home," at least for awhile, and sometimes I forget the marvelousness of my life in my daily hustle and bustle. Thursday, though, I did not. My school day was lovely and as I walked to the bus afterwards, smiling from the high of a good conversation, feeling the sun caressing my cheeks and the cool breeze tossing my hair, I was completely and wonderfully happy. My Ipod sang sweet tunes to me and I laughed at the sheer amazingness of my life, because on Friday, I was going to Istanbul for the weekend.

Friday morning Lyla and I set out to the airport on the metro and then the bus, arrived without incident, and caught our flight just as planned. Flying over the sea to Turkey, we marvelled at the fact of our existence. Coming in over Istanbul was, in itself, amazing. Minaret after minaret peeked out from the crowded skyline, towering over homes and hiding between skyscrapers.

We arrived and proceeded through security, going through passport control and purchasing our entry visas. I giggled at the ease of obtaining this visa as opposed to the insane hassle involved in getting my previous two (for Spain and Hungary). Commenting to Lyla, I mentioned that my name could have been that of a notorious Greek Turkey-hater and I would have gotten no more hassle than I did. Lyla replied, "What, like Lauren Cyprusisoursoupolous?"

We caught the shiny metro, operated with actual tiny tokens, and managed to transfer to our tram. On the way in I stared out the window at the outskirts of the town, which looked at one time not much different than those of Budapest and at the same time from another world. After what seemed like forever we were at our tram stop downtown. We stumbled off the train, unsure exactly where to head from there, and into a park across the street to get our bearings. Freed by my blonde hair and our backpacks, we pulled out our guidebook to look at the map and figured out where to go. Then we looked up for the first time, and saw this to our right:

The blue mosque

and this to our left:

The Hagia Sofia

Wow. I cannot impress upon you enough how amazing and just... beautifully imposing these two buildings are. It's like they have their own life, and it is without a doubt much more important and amazing than your own.

We found our hostel, rested, had a beer. Then it was out to dinner, where our immensely friendly waiter took great care of us. And the food was amazing. I had squid stuffed with tuna, shrimp, and cheese. It was so delicious, topped off with intense, mouthy Turkish red wine. Halfway through dinner, we heard a strange sound take over the city, a haunting cry on loudspeakers. It was the call to prayer, something I had totally forgotten about. It seemed strange in this modern corner of the city, the restaurant's radio playing latin hits.

wine and a daisy

so delicious and beautiful

We then went for a walk and bought small cups of salehm, a hot spiced drink made from tapioca root, from a street vendor.

"What is it?" we asked, intrigued by the giant pot sitting on an open flame in a wooden cart, spouting steam into the chill night air from a spout in the side.
"Salehm," he replied.
"But... what is it?" I laughed, and he simply poured us cups in answer.

the park, the German fountain, and the Hagia Sofia

Lyla and I walked around the square, sipping carefully at our molten cinammon flavored deliciousness, smiling at an apparent Turkish police convention that kept smiling and waving at us, and listening to the seagulls crying while they circled the minarets of the blue mosque. Having had too much for our brains and hearts (and stomachs!) to handle, we headed back to the hostel for a relatively early night, a huge day waiting for us on Saturday.

The mosque, with little squiggly-line seagulls flying around the minarets.