a pause from dc: istanbul

Unable to sleep my body has been thrown from the time zone of the East Coast, with a brief stop in the United Kingdom, seven hours ahead to Istanbul.

At 1:00 am, I am alone on the small balcony four floors above the winding streets and stone stairs of the Karaköy neighborhood. Eventually, the streets and passageways climb to meet the 14th-century Galata Tower. Galata, an uncertain etymology. Where did the name come from? The Greek, the Italian - formerly part of the Republic of Genoa - Thracian?

Below, in the poorly-lit narrow streets, only the occasional Taksi and above the sound of seagulls swirling in the night sky over the Bosphorus blocks away below the hills of Galata. Occasionally, as I write, the gulls become closer and swoop and cry above the rooftops. For now, the waterways of the Boshpohorous will not see grain brought through the Black Sea from Ukraine to the rest of the world. In recent days, Moscow suspends a Black Sea grain deal. The Black Sea, a body of water, I’ve not yet seen or experienced, is near. Across the sea, a war in Ukraine.

Life has to be slow. Forced into a pace that my health can keep up with. Instead of sprinting through a country or as many city neighborhoods as possible in the days we have somewhere, instead, we slowly wander streets and pause when necessary. Am I doing okay? I have to ask myself.

I sprint through my twenties and collapse at the end of it.

With this in mind, our first morning, where Europe and Asia meet, is a slow breakfast presented in overflowing baskets of bread, a meze of dips, nuts, sweet fruit jams, cheeses, eggs, fresh cucumbers, and tomatoes. If I wasn’t also taking a pause from caffeine, I would sip a rich and thick Turkish coffee. Instead, hot tea - hopefully with little caffeine, but I forget to ask - in small glass cups. The mix of dishes from across the Ottoman empire spread across tables in a modern Turkey - Türkiye - heading closer towards Europe? The walk back from breakfast passes synagogues, minarets, and an Austrian hospital - a Spital - confirming the collision of cultures. Empires rise and empires fall.

Sunsets over the Bosphorus. The blue glow which radiates from the mosques is a beacon that a slow day in Istanbul closes. Fishing lines hang from the bridge, and boats and ferries pass below. Across the Bosphorus, tall modern towers - skyscrapers not minarets - signal a new and modern Türkiye. Recent election posters for Erdogan are visible. Istanbul, and Türkiye, continue their position at a crossroads. This, too, is a crossroads as I leave the University I worked for in DC behind and explore being European again, at least for now.

Tea & Cigarettes

Almost evening,

Attempting a slower day,

Cooler, we wander.

I no longer smoke cigarettes; I haven’t in years. In Istanbul, people smoke as a ritual sitting outside on stools or in cafes while drinking tea, smoking, and chatting with friends and neighbors. Still, even here there are signs of change - the no smoking signs are visible. A late-night walker smokes a final cigarette of the day on the empty streets below. The seagulls, taxis, and final pedestrians have disappeared.

Now, it’s nearly 2:00 am in Istanbul and 7 pm in DC.