The great Turkey adventure, part 1
“One of the most wonderful things about Istanbul,” said our guide Suleyman, “is that you simply cross a bridge, and you’re in a new continent. Historically Turkey has always considered itself the easternmost part of Europe and the westernmost part of Asia.” We were driving across the Bosphorus bridge, from Europe to the Asia, and I only half-registered this pithy introduction to the city. Grumpus and I had decided to go the indulgent route and booked ourselves a package tour that included a guide, a car and driver, and a nice hotel; and at that moment, punch drunk from 10 days in New York and coming off the excitement of Mona’s wedding, I was extremely pleased with that decision.
The first thing that really registered, after the rush hour traffic, was how pretty the city was.
I thought it looked like some Italian city by the water, but with minarets instead of crosses. The feeling was reinforced as we navigated our way through the narrow winding streets of our Bosphorus neighborhood.
The second thing that registered was that, holy cow, we landed ourselves a sweet hotel indeed, a cozy, modern and elegant 20-room number; our French doors opened right onto a small lawn, with the Bosphorus straits just beyond. There is no better balm for a weary traveler than a room with a view and a king sized bed with 400-count sheets.
We slept so well on those sheets in fact that we missed the alarm the next morning and had to scramble to catch the hotel ferry and meet Suleyman back in Europe.