I took this from my old blog, written 2 days after I got back from 8 days at Istanbul last November.
Istanbul was … amazing. I think it was a city that called to my soul. A city full of history, culture and an amazing combination of the old days and the modern days. I think there were times that I nearly stopped right in the middle of the busy Istikal Caddesi (a 1.4km long avenue) and just let the spirit of the place flow into me.
I know, cheesy. But making Istanbul my first ever travel destination was like getting that first perfect boyfriend.
The one who remembers how you take your latte, and that your dessert should be chocolate, or apple based. The one who hold your hand while you visit those hidden art galleries, and let it go when you’re reading because he knows you need your freedom when you do that. The one that can look at you, and read your soul. The one that you had to let go because it was just not the right time.
I briefly half seriously considered just staying there, teach English/Malay and get myself a nice Turk guy (they are really really attractive, in general. With their beards ala’ hipster style, and glasses, and those eyes). But then Mama decided to remind me that I would be cut out of the will if I don’t come back as scheduled.
Would I go back? Definitely.
Maybe in few years’ time, after I go to couple more places (which has to be decided).
About a year before the Istanbul trip was planned, I asked someone who just came back from there what he thought of it.
“I fell in love with it.”
“Slowly or quickly?”
It was the same for me too.