istanbul

i watch my host kerem argue, cordially but firmly, with the taxi driver.

i only had so much lira, having just arrived at the airport. not quite enough. i try to gauge the success of the conversation based on how intense kerem's gestures are. more and more, then less and less. the driver nods slightly and kerem produces a few notes. i was twenty lira short, i don't know if that's the kind of money that buys a coffee or a meal in istanbul. oops. but the problem is solved.

kerem returns to me.

i'll add it to your bill.

fair enough, i thought, nodding slightly.

after settling in my room briefly, i leave the microscopic hostel behind. six rooms, four of which are dorms. i managed to snag a private room given it's november, very much off season. cold wind blasted off the marmara sea. worth it, i fucking hate tourists. i am a hypocrite.

i had been to istanbul once before. previously staying in fatih on the european side. i saw the sights and the landmarks. beautiful, iconic, dull. this time i had chosen to stay on the asian side in kadikoy. i admit it's a desperate search for authenticity in one of the most touristic cities in the world. but why not try? i walk past a comic book store. then a tattoo parlour. then a tobacconist. the streets are made of cobbles that must have once been neat and smooth, but are now rough. in cold and damp weather i'm thankful for the deterioration.

it occurs to me i haven't actually resolved to do anything, i just wanted to leave the hostel. i see a coffee shop, it's not even a starbucks. this is better than fatih.

i enter and try to order a small hot chocolate. the barista doesn't speak english so i end up grabbing a menu and pointing at the most 'hot chocolate' looking item on the menu. we'll see what comes. somehow the inability to communicate makes me feel closer to the barista. this is definitely better than fatih. a nice enough hot chocolate follows. it's sweet without being saccharine. the heat is nice is my gloved hands. half finished, it warms my whole self as i leave the shop, which thankfully took card payments. i manage to shoo one of the many stray cats around the city away without much fuss. a pedestrian laughs a little bit. i hope i brightened their day, and that they don't think i'm lost. i worry what locals think, but ideally i want them not to think of me at all.

i decide to walk into the wind towards the coast. i come across a nice park that overlooks the rough, dark seas. this isn't what one expects of the med. i sip the last of the hot chocolate and manage to locate a bin, dropping the cup in and triggering a weak thud against both the side and bottom. reaching the shoreline i think a little bit about how far i've travelled. about all the things that may or may not have happened at home while i was gone. about whether those things will even matter by the time i get back. the wind blows into my eyes and they start to water. then they start to stream. so authentic.