Arriving at Atatürk Airport and the subsequent bus transfer to the center of Istanbul was delightfully breezy, much unlike the atmospheric conditions that evening. Approaching the last few hours of daylight, we alighted at Taksim Square, and the humming electricity of the city coursed through us with every step from the moment we disembarked. It wasn’t only the heat that drove the city’s vivacity; Istanbul’s idiosyncratic dialogue with herself emanated from every angle and corner, in the smells of grilled meat wafting, horns honking, vendors making their offers known, families picnicking, children hiding and seeking.

 

Walking across the square itself is a sensory experience, and it seemed especially so during Ramadan at dusk when the time to break fast drew near. The finishing touches of a huge, al-fresco banquet were coming together as a patient crowd began to collect, waiting to be admitted into a communal, celebratory observance of iftar, the evening meal to end the fast at sunset.

 

Standing in the middle of that square is where I first careened into the momentous scale of Istanbul, a revelation that would reoccur throughout our stay. It is a view of perception I’ve been able to parallel only with the experience of walking down the Vegas Strip, standing at one end, acknowledging the gargantuan hotel resorts at the other and at the same time observing the immense distance still between yourself, the viewer, and the view.

 

 

We met our Airbnb host, Muhammet, at an easy to find, predetermined spot, what was described as “the invention under the Starbucks café.” We could only surmise or hope he meant the coffee shop itself. Bespectacled in Ray-Ban shades, Muhammet was a compact young man, extremely amiable, accommodating, and knowledgeable about his city. His recently acquired English proved stronger than my French, and the peculiar anti-vernacular in which he spoke, common to many learners of English, was particularly charming and swept a broad smile across my face as he tried his best to understand and express.

 

Muhammet led us across another side of the square and through the neighborhood that would be ours for the forthcoming week. A single turn off the main roads lining Taksim Square reveals the dusty quarters where people live alongside the glittering, newly laid concrete where people shop and congregate. Far from being glamorous in any sense of the word, our street was quite pleasing to me rather because of its undeniable character and the fact that this was like nowhere I’ve spent a holiday before. Every discerning perception was a constant reminder of this new experience. Dodging the street games of quaintly grubby younglings, the moody, undulating urban terrain, the alternating occurrence of uninhabited, dilapidated buildings with recently constructed ones, even the tight, narrow roads that somehow force the steel frames of cars and vans to suck it in all paint this part of Beyoğlu in saturated hues.

 

 

With this first sip of Turkey at our arrival in Istanbul, my pre-voyage fascination and intrigue was acutely amplified.

 

 

 

Unloading our cabin baggage, exchanging many words of gratitude with Muhammet, taking note of a few of his recommendations, and redeodorizing, we then set off. Marching on our stomachs, we headed directly to Konak on İstiklâl Caddesi, where we were told we would find “very big eat.” Though we were served an enjoyable meal on the flight, traveling has a way of making anyone feel a bit peckish. I was itching to dive head first into some of the delectable Turkish cuisine I’ve read so much about, and nothing at that moment sounded better.

 

In addition to absorbing a bit of the reverberant atmosphere, it was also our intention to find a lively venue to watch the night’s World Cup match, a semi-final between machinist Germany and host country, Brazil. Opting for a tourist hotspot rather than the native’s retreat that we usually seek, Kyle located a gleaming street bombarded with bars, foreigners, TVs, and drink specials on the way to Konak, so the rest of our night was conveniently squared away.

 

 

Posing as an unassuming kebap house, this particular restaurant is in actuality a grand-scale operation. Arriving shortly after sundown, the place was predictably filled to the brim. In the quest for a table to accommodate just the two of us, we were ushered to the third floor of the building, while I’m certain the restaurant continued on for many more. There seemed to be a member of staff for every two or three diners, and embracing the hustle and bustle of it all were ornately upholstered walls topped with beaming candelabras.