Our last day in Istanbul was a long one, since we checked out of the hotel in the morning and didn’t have a home base until we left for the airport at 11 p.m. Yes, we made the brilliant decision to “sleep at the airport” to save time and money. Props to Sarah who actually had a civilized departure time (9 a.m.), yet stayed with me for my insanely early flight (5 a.m.).
When you book a flight months in advance, one tends to forget early mornings aren’t as congenial as they sound in a foreign city. But somehow, when booking travel, I subscribe to the notion that saving $50 on a roundtrip is worth the 2 a.m. wakeup call required to make a 5 a.m. flight. Or in the case of my flight from Istanbul, no wakeup call at all and instead pulling an all-nighter.
But before spending six hours in an airport lounge, we had the entire day to entertain ourselves in what had quickly become a new favorite city (don’t worry Oxford, London, and Denver…you’re all still in my top three). Conquering the Grand Bazaar earlier that week, we decided to stop by one last time for some shopping in the eleventh hour for any items that had been plaguing our conscience.
En route to the Süleymaniye Mosque—the second largest in the city—we stopped by some other attractive mosques, taking advantage of their open door policies. It's such a strange and wonderful feeling to wander in and out of mosques in Turkey. Each one was more impressive than the last, ending with Süleymaniye, which had a comforting vibe. Admiring the ornate carpet, I was reminded that we were in the land of a million rugs and the Turks truly know what they’re doing when it comes to carpet creation.
For lunch we dined outside the chaos of the Spice Market in an Iskender doner shop serving up fast, affordable, and delish fries and lamb kebab in tomato sauce (trying to match the previous day’s experience, but nothing will top that). It was a well-oiled machine on the interior, with young men working hard for the money as they scurried in and out and up and down the restaurant. I felt like we were in the real heart of the city, at the cusp of commerce near the market and where the locals seemed to do their local shopping.
We spent the afternoon aimlessly wandering the city soaking in the sights, and eventually decided to take the tram to Taksim Square to be entertained by the masses and architecture. This time we looked beyond the materialistic and instead at the incredible buildings residing behind the dozens of stores. Past some gates, we discovered the dainty St. Anthony of Padua Church—the largest Catholic church in Istanbul. It looked more like a decorated gingerbread house than a church, and that was part of the allure.
Just up the street from St. Anthony of Padua, we stumbled upon a crowd jamming out to self-proclaimed gypsy-rock-cabaret band Into the Moon. Based in Paris, this duo (typically a trio) was rocking it and filling Istiklal Caddesi with fun, foot-tapping tunes. Buying their CD wasn’t a choice, more like a must and for 10 lira I certainly couldn’t complain. Now whenever I want to get transported back to my time in Istanbul, I pop in the demo and feel the music.
A quick late-night snack and round of tea enlivened us before our journey to the airport. The Art City Hotel kindly stored our bags that day and arranged a trip to the airport by shuttle that cost about 20 lira each—about the same price as a taxi, but less stressful. We arrived at Ataturk Airport at about 11 p.m. and since we couldn’t check in or drop our bags off, we were forced to take up residence at a coffeeshop outside of security. If you’re planning an all-nighter at this airport, don’t get your hopes up.
Buying an overpriced pastry and bottle of water secured our spot at Gloria Jeans (must be the Canadian in me, couldn’t just sit in their overstuffed chairs and use their free wi-fi without making a purchase). Dozing in and out of consciousness alongside Sarah, I questioned my decision to do the airport sleepover, but by the time 4:00 a.m. rolled around, I was thankful to be at my departure gate.
Three hours of discomfort on a cramped Lufthansa flight later, I arrived in Frankfurt where I had a five-hour layover (did I mention I’ll do anything for a cheaper flight?). At least here I could practice my German speaking skills, buy legit Ritter Sport advent calendars for my brother and myself, and devour some authentic Haribo gummibears. You know you’re jealous.
The next leg of the journey consisted of a ten-hour direct flight to Denver, made an hour longer due to fog in Germany. Highly recommend you fly anything but Lufthansa, as this plane was stuck in the 90s and not in a good Third Eye Blind and dot-com-boom kind of way. I had no idea traveling on Lufthansa meant time travel, as I could have sworn I was transported to when Clinton and Shroeder were still in office due to the outdated facilities on this pathetic plane. And to make matters worse, Larry Crowne was playing on loop. It’s tough to find a decent airline these days, but trust me that this one should be at the bottom of your list for transatlantic flights.
Once in Denver, I hitched a ride from a friend and couldn’t quite believe I was driving along the Rocky Mountains when the night before I had been dancing in the streets of Istanbul. The line from “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” will always resonate: “Now it’s Turkish delight on a moonlit night.” I was lucky enough to have six moonlit nights in Istanbul and I’ll always think fondly of this city. It was so familiar, yet so foreign from anything I had experienced before. So beautiful, yet practical. A city full of life and history and culture. A city that captured my heart and my mind.
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