Istanbul

I spent the last week cashing in on a glorious birthday present--a five day trip to Istanbul for my 30th-birthday-festivus.  Paul, poor attempts at a bad Turkish accent included, whisked me away on an oh-so-not-ryainair flight to Istanbul, Turkey where we lodged on one of the city's seven hills.  And now, sadly, the festivus has drawn to a close.  The remnants of Hurricane Sandy are slowly making their way over to Europe, which is why I now sit under a thick layer of duvet with the heating on.  In Michigan, where my family live, it snows.  

But I digress.  The trip was good.  Istanbul is a beautiful city.  

I'm not completely certain it would be everyone's cup of tea because like most really big cities, it's up in your face assaulting your senses and pushing your boundaries.  And it's mammoth--ranging seas, rivers, continents.  Which is pretty daunting when it comes to being a tourist in a new place.  

But Istanbul kindly names its old places, just in case you forget what you're looking at or looking for.  You've got the Blue Mosque (blue-tiled on the inside), the Grand Bazaar (grand in its size, immenseness and ability to get you turned around, down and back in your original direction without even realising) and the New Mosque (new in the sense that it's only 400-years-old).  

And it's definitely got charm.  From the fishermen peddling their trade on the Galata Bridge, to the myriad narghile-cum-tea-bars dotted across europe and asia, to the wonderfully kind people we encountered on our journey, Istanbul left me with a much kinder (and realistic) impression of life in Turkey than Bodrum did three years ago.  

Pictures are, as usual, forthcoming.  For the moment, I need to sleep off the borek, turkish delight and 4am alarm clock sluggishness that's beginning to attack me behind the eyes.