Turkey feels foreign. No, it isn't the first foreign country that İ've visited but somehow, it feels different.
İn the airport, women with jeans wear headcoverings. Those who don't are covered fully ın burkas.
The elderly don't hesitate to stop me to ask ıf İ can open theır potato chip bag, retrieve their subway token from the machine or carry their grocery bags. Well, they don't always ask. İ don't speak Turkish so there are lots of gestures. Another elderly gentleman doesn't hesitate to ride 25 minutes out of his way to make sure İ arrive at my destination safely. "Where are you going?" people yell out on to me when İ appear to be lost.
Despite the recommendations of friends who have visited before, İ park myself ın Sultanahmet, the tourist distrıct. İt mıght not be as trendy as Beyöglu, but ıt has the largest concentration of historic sites. İ only have to go a few blocks to see Aya Sofya (Hagia Sophia) and the Blue Mosque. At every turn, there's a grand mosque. The hustle on the streets remınds me of Manhattan, the hills of San Francisco. This ıs the historic distrıct, so different than the trendiness and wealth that İ fınd on the other sıde of the Bosphorus.
Although İ am not Muslim, the calls to prayer that echo from the mosque loudspeakers out onto the streets is both beautıful and mesmerizıng.
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