The Two of Us in Istanbul: A Turkish Blue Round
FR

Translated into English.

Original post
RI
Hello everyone,

I’m not really a regular contributor to VoyageForum, but every time Kate and I travel, she encourages me to write a travel journal and publish it. And I must admit, it’s a very enjoyable intellectual exercise, though not always easy. As a VF contributor whose journals I’ve read once said, this retrospective work not only helps preserve memories but also provides a fruitful moment of introspection by bringing back emotions and feelings.

Kate and I spent a week in Istanbul. For her, who had already visited, it was a return; for me, it was a discovery.

As we’ve now made a habit of, I write the texts, and she posts her photos. We hope this illustrated story, crafted together, will revive beautiful sensations for those who know the city and inspire others to discover it. Here we go!

RI RichardXI Regular ·
09/12. A chaotic arrival

I hate arriving in a big foreign city at night. The fading light—what the French call "between dog and wolf"—always triggers a kind of anxiety in me. The long ride from the airport in the back of a taxi with a usually silent driver whose face you barely glimpse, the endless concrete outskirts of the metropolis, the city center itself bustling with life but completely indifferent to our presence, separated from the world by the sealed windows of the vehicle—all of it can create a sort of psychological discomfort. We’re moving through a city we don’t understand at all. During the day, at least the light makes everything feel more accessible, friendlier, and I always tell myself that if we have trouble finding our accommodation, time isn’t an issue, and solutions will appear in the daylight.

But our nighttime arrival in Istanbul was more than chaotic due to an unbelievable string of small mishaps that piled up and eventually made our stomachs clench... After quickly exiting the airport, we waited for the taxi the apartment owner was supposed to send. Ten, twenty minutes... Kate calls. "Really sorry, I forgot to tell the driver, but just take another taxi—there are plenty." Queue... A driver picks us up. "Galata Mandirasi Sk 2,? Ok." Fifty minutes later, we finally arrive. The driver drops us off—thank you. The narrow, sloping street is poorly lit: number 1, number 3, no number 2. I have a doubt and check the street name, which is Mandir, not Mandirasi. Panic—we’re actually north of Taksim Square, 40 minutes from our accommodation in a neighborhood that seems very local, where a tourist probably hasn’t set foot in ages... The driver got it wrong.

Google Maps to the rescue—right, no, left, down, up—the little arrow on the app seems as lost as we are. A family sitting on their doorstep notices our confusion and calls out to us. Mixing a bit of English and Google Translate, we manage to explain the situation. When the man realizes we’re planning to walk to the Beyoğlu district, his eyes widen in shock—he looks almost alarmed, even worried. "No, no, no good, taxi, taxi!" I’m not sure if he’s warning us against walking because of the distance or safety, but we decide to take his advice. I mumble a rough teşekkür ederim and we start looking for a taxi in a neighborhood where there aren’t any. A yellow car! Galata, Beyoğlu? OK. Just as we get in, the car is stopped by heavy traffic. No possible, get out of the car please... The search continues, and we emerge onto a livelier, better-lit avenue.

Taxi, taxi! We hop into the car and show the driver the route. No, no, get out of the car please. What’s going on? Why does everyone keep saying that? I get the feeling our accommodation is on a small street, and the taxis don’t want to go there. A young man approaches us, and we explain the situation. He flags down a taxi and seems to give precise directions. Great, the driver agrees. We finally arrive at our apartment after a two-hour ordeal. The fare seems very reasonable—no scam. Conclusion: Istanbul taxi drivers are honest, but not very competent...

Our adorable lodging is located in the lower part of the Galata district (administratively Beyoğlu), in a lively area. Without looking too hard, we settle onto the terrace of a small restaurant offering kebabs, wraps, dürüm, pide, lahmacun... We can finally relax... The weather is pleasant, and the street atmosphere is nice. First encounter with the true locals of the city: Istanbul’s cats. Friendly, affectionate, elegant, and well-fed, they’re the recipients of attentive care from the locals and always delight tourists. Purr, purr, meow, meow—a little scuffle—around our table, they put on a charming show for us.

Time to head back—we’re exhausted. As I drift off to sleep, the last sound I hear in the depths of the night isn’t what I expected—the plaintive, modulated call of a muezzin—but the deep, nostalgic horn of a boat gliding on the waters of the Bosphorus...



KO Kola Globetrotter ·
And first of all... Music, Maestros!

Nous deux

🎵 🎶 Since our souls wander, let’s go around the world The two of us!

Since our souls wander Let’s embrace close to the waves of the ocean of bad days The two of us!

And then, to our faithful loves In the heart of eternal snows, let’s lose ourselves forever The two of us! 🎵🎶

in Istanbul

https://youtu.be/dONIVqBarfE?feature=shared

Turkish blue round dance

https://youtu.be/FqPC-BkylxA
RI RichardXI Regular ·
Nice catch with the "Maestra" reference! 😉 Thanks, and here’s to what’s next!
RI RichardXI Regular ·
13/09. First steps in Beyoglu

The grand monuments of Sultanahmet can wait a few days—we decide to first make ourselves at home in the neighborhood where we’re staying. First steps... Like children learning to walk, we feel a bit clumsy, slightly disoriented, stumbling both literally and figuratively on the streets of this part of the city. Paper map and phone in hand, we try to get our bearings. Istanbul still eludes us; we need to be patient, open to the city, and wait for it to reveal itself to us.

Administratively, we’re in Beyoglu, so on the left bank of the Golden Horn, but the area actually includes several neighborhoods: Galata near the tower, Independence Avenue (İstiklal), the antique dealers’ district, Taksim Square, Karaköy... These are all the places we want to take the time to explore throughout the day.

The Galata Tower looms above a very, very steep street. The sturdy, pot-bellied Genoese tower from the 14th century dominates the entire area. Not too many people around at this hour. Should we go up? Kate isn’t thrilled—35 euros to climb the monument? We’ll get plenty of stunning views of the city elsewhere. A cute bar on the square catches our eye. Off we go for our first Turkish coffee: 500 TL (over 10 euros) for two drinks! Outrageous—we feel like we’re in Montmartre! No big deal, though; we’ve learned our lesson and will find equally charming spots at more reasonable prices later.

We keep climbing and arrive at Tünel Square, where the starting or ending point of the underground funicular connects the top of Galata to the bridge down below on the Golden Horn... But our eyes are immediately drawn to a small cherry-red tram with a Belle Époque vibe. It’s the famous T2 line, the oldest in the city, which takes you to Taksim Square in just a few minutes while following Independence Avenue. And here we are on Istanbul’s famous “Champs-Élysées,” this long, almost straight pedestrian avenue leading to Taksim. This is where Istanbul’s youth—both local and foreign—gather at night to party. The avenue itself is lined with luxury shops, clothing stores, jewelry boutiques, fine confectioners, offices, banks, hotels, European embassies... The often 19th-century facades, spruced up and neatly aligned, reflect real prosperity. Numerous perpendicular passages lead to elegant little streets with decorated facades, at the foot of which you’ll find an abundance of restaurants, bars, and art galleries.





The walk is pleasant and full of interest, but I can tell Kate seems a bit off this morning, listless, as if she’s struggling to get into the trip. As for me, I’m a little thrown off—I expected to find a piece of the Orient, and instead, I’m smack in the middle of the West, even if it has the nostalgic scent of the “Orient Express” era. But really, what’s more normal? We’re in the old Pera, the Levantine quarter (Genoese, Venetian, Greek...) from the time when Constantinople/Istanbul was already a global city trading with the entire known world, and later in the 19th century when the Ottoman Empire had complex but intense relations with Europeans. So why should Istanbul be only Asian and exotic? As for nostalgia, it suddenly takes shape in front of the entrance to the Pera Palace, the mythical hotel of the Compagnie des Wagons-Lits for Orient Express travelers. The facade is nothing special, but the interior... Luxury, calm, and pleasure, along with all those famous names resurfacing from the past: Agatha Christie, Greta Garbo, Josephine Baker, Mata Hari, Atatürk himself.





We take a little detour into the quieter antique dealers’ district for a çay (tea), then head back up toward the massive Taksim Square, at the center of which stands a monument commemorating the Turkish War of Independence. The city’s nerve center, a place for gatherings but also sometimes for protests and demonstrations. It’s kind of like their Place de la République. Heading slightly east, we enter a more working-class neighborhood that fits better with what we imagined Istanbul to be, and we have lunch in a charming sloping alley under the protective shade of a small neighborhood mosque. The welcome is simple but warm, and we each enjoy an assortment of mezze. I start trying out some basic Turkish: Merhaba, teşekkür ederim—oops, no, sorry—te-şek-kür ederim, teşekkür ederim, there we go, I’ve got it.



The afternoon is well underway, and we decide to go breathe in the sea air around Karaköy and Tophane, where the Golden Horn opens up. In Tophane, we step into our first mosque, the 16th-century Kılıç Ali Pasha Mosque. Visiting mosques will be, for me—and I think for Kate too—one of the highlights of our trip; I’ll come back to that later. But oddly enough, I have no memory of this one. And I think I understand why. The fatigue from the journey, the events of the day before, this first day that’s left us a bit dizzy. Along with that feeling—not unpleasant, actually—when you start a long trip, of floating slightly above reality. Like a light intoxication. And then there are the preconceptions, even the well-meaning ones. Veil or no veil? Photo or no photo? Silence or not? A kind of awkwardness, shyness, excessive respect. Though I’m an atheist, I come from a Christian culture, and churches are familiar places for me. Mosques, obviously, are not. What should I look at? How should I look? What does it mean to visit a place of worship that’s both historical and still active when it’s not part of your own culture? I had a similar feeling in India with Hindu temples, but the spiritual proximity there was so distant that I felt more at ease, more detached. With my head full of these thoughts, I saw the mosque without really seeing it...



The rest of our stay in Istanbul will give me a chance to get better acquainted with this somewhat distant cousin and fully appreciate the beauty and spirituality it has to offer in later visits.

Come on, one last little walk to Galata Port to breathe in the sea air of the Bosphorus... or the Golden Horn? Kate and I are still getting our bearings, so let’s just say somewhere in between. The place has been completely renovated. The old warehouses have been transformed into a huge shopping gallery—very nice, actually—with boutiques, bar-restaurants, and a promenade along the docks, catering to the clientele of the massive cruise ships that dock here. The area is a bit sanitized, though. Time to head back...





As I mentally recap this full but contrasting day, I realize how much the qualities of a true traveler are open-mindedness and patience. Like in a romantic relationship, you have to give it time, let the desire build. Istanbul isn’t ours yet...

AT Attila Globetrotter ·
35 euros to climb the monument?

Oops...🤪

I think I read somewhere that prices in Istanbul have skyrocketed.

Skyrocketed into the stratosphere...

I may have climbed this tower before, but I don’t remember a thing !
KA Kate Globetrotter ·
I think I read somewhere that prices in Istanbul had skyrocketed.

Yeah, I actually joined that discussion a bit. It’s not just a rise—it’s an orbital breakaway

Plus, suffering through 211 steps means you’ve gotta be a masochist! !
JO Jojoone1 Globetrotter ·
The quality travel journals keep coming, and let’s bet this one won’t be an exception. It’s a bit like the release of a novel by an author you love—except here, you also get the photos.

Last year, another journal mentioned the staggering, jaw-dropping, mind-blowing entry prices for the Pamukkale site, and if I understand correctly, this has become the norm for the country. I didn’t pay an entrance fee for either Pamukkale or the Galata Tower, but then again, that was another century. Turkey has become much wealthier and modernized—so much so that prices seem to have gone Western. Well, for a capital city, it’s not that surprising. To think that in the late 80s, there were only one or two streets with any semblance of modernity and just one shop selling toilets that weren’t squat-style.

By the way, could you confirm that the local gastronomy is still as good?
KA Kate Globetrotter ·
Thanks Jojo.

I hadn’t paid entry for either Pamukkale or the Galata Tower, but that was another century ago.

No need to go back to Greek calendars—on my first trip in 2019, climbing the stairs cost 25 TL!

By the way, could you confirm that the local gastronomy is still as good?

Good, but not exceptional 😕 I was expecting to find lots of *mezzé*, but few restaurants offered it, or it was really expensive. Or maybe we just didn’t find the right spots! The same options kept coming up: pizzas, kebabs, wraps, burgers—of course, Turkish-style, but still just mainstream. Sometimes there were nice surprises—Richard will tell you more.
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
I'm not sure I'd want to go back to Turkey.

Turks used to be pretty friendly overall.

I wonder if Erdogan hasn’t fractured this country.

But I’ll let Richard tell us about his take on this country straddling two continents. 🙂
RO Rouquine38 Globetrotter ·
Thanks so much, Richard, for this travel journal—always a pleasure to read you. Kate, I see you’re still growing your feline collection 😺 Istanbul’s still on my destination list but never seems to happen.
RI RichardXI Regular ·
Istanbul, always on my destination list but never made it happen.

Thanks Isabelle. We’ll try to make you want to go. Plus, Istanbul is the city of cats—perfect for you since you love felines ;)
RI RichardXI Regular ·
14/09. On the other side, in old Istanbul: the Egyptian Bazaar, the Rüstem Pasha and Süleymaniye Mosques, Küçükpazar.

Kate’s grumbling because we still haven’t bought the famous "Istanbul kart" for public transport (really handy, I’ll find out a bit later). But from our accommodation, I want to cross the Golden Horn on foot via the Galata Bridge to get to the other side, what’s called old Istanbul. The bridge is packed with fishermen, squeezed in like sardines. I smile, thinking of Sète, my hometown. They seem a bit calmer than back home! In front of us, the old Mediterranean city sprawls in tiers from the hills down to the sea... Against the sky’s deep blue, facing the sun, I lose myself in the sight of those plump-domed mosques, their sharp minarets punctuating the urban landscape like exclamation points...





So, what now? Kate, who always takes the lead on our trips—handling transport, accommodation, all the paperwork (money, passports)—lets me plan the discoveries. I know she could do it without me, but that’s how we work; she trusts me. Plus, she has zero sense of direction—none at all! And she’s too busy worrying about the photos she’ll take with her precious, heavy Nikon. Okay, but I’ll have to step up anyway.

Yesterday’s first mosque visit left me frustrated. I’m in a Muslim country, in a civilization capable of creating magnificent places of worship, and I don’t want to miss out. From the Eminönü tram station, we head toward the Rüstem Pasha Mosque, right in the heart of the maze of shopping streets next to the Egyptian Bazaar. Still overly cautious, I ask, "Can we enter the mosque?" Of course, I hadn’t yet realized that in Turkey, at least in Istanbul, mosques are freely accessible except during prayer times. We climb a steep staircase to reach a terrace. The information signs are clear, with English text and drawings: appropriate attire (headscarves for women, no shorts for men), don’t enter the prayer area. The 16th-century mosque’s interior is stunning, clad in blue with Iznik tiles, its gentle rise toward the domes, the carpet so soft under bare feet. No worshippers at this hour, just groups of tourists awestruck and respectful of the beauty around them.



Diving into the "Egyptian Bazaar." Misnamed, really, since it was actually run by Ottoman merchants in the 17th century, who preceded the Venetians and Genoese. The beautifully restored building forms a covered quadrilateral, supported by broken vaults on bicolored arches. Originally dedicated to selling spices, perfumes, and medicinal plants, it’s now essentially a market for tourists—both Turkish and foreign. You’ll find everything: spices, sweets, scarves, "made in China" souvenirs. The artificial light from the ceiling, the vibrant colors of the spices, Turkish delight, and fabrics give the place a magical, exotic feel—though it’s not exactly authentic, since I don’t think many Istanbul locals shop here.

You can see it from far away on the Galata Bridge. The Süleymaniye Mosque, perched atop the hill, dominates the urban landscape. Süleyman— Suleiman the Magnificent, the powerful sultan of the Ottoman Empire during what was the Renaissance in Europe. Istanbul’s streets are steep, and the climb is tough. You’ve got to earn your way to the sky! We arrive at a vast esplanade offering a splendid view of the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus, the hills of Galata, and the Asian lands on the other side. From here, you really grasp the geography of this exceptional site. While the exterior of the monument leans toward gray-blue, inside it’s mostly red that dominates—the carpets and the voussoirs of the arched windows. The space is immense, flooded with light. No benches like in churches; the space is open, and nothing stops your gaze from naturally rising upward. And of course, like in all mosques worldwide, no images—just calligraphic or floral motifs as decoration.





After spending a good while enjoying the tranquility of the place, we head toward a cemetery reserved for dignitaries, where the mausoleum of Süleyman, all blue and rounded, stands prominently.

A quiet lunch near the mosque along a row of small restaurants. A tout catches us. Normally, I hate that kind of behavior, but this guy is friendly and courteous, and his oddly empty terrace invites relaxation. We give in. I order kuru fasulye, a delicious stew made with white beans, a bit of meat, and tomato.

After the meal, we cross the Küçükpazar area, which slopes steeply from the foot of the mosque down to the Golden Horn. What a strange feeling. The upper part of the neighborhood is heavily run-down, pockmarked with vacant lots and crumbling houses, roamed by scrawny cats. Here and there, at the turn of a narrow street, a few colorful wooden buildings that must have been beautiful in their time. On a dusty square littered with trash, we spot a family looking destitute. The woman is crouched down, seemingly preparing soup cooking on a brazier. She’s not begging but puts her hand to her mouth to signal she’s hungry. Kate approaches and hands her a bill. The woman thanks her. I don’t understand. The neighborhood seems abandoned—maybe it’s being redeveloped, as urban planners would say? A woman leans out her window and greets us in Arabic: "Salam Aleikoum." Kate asks if she can take her photo; she smiles and agrees. From the bottom of the street, I look at her—she must have been beautiful in her time too.







As we descend, the poverty gradually fades, and at the bottom, we cross a lively working-class neighborhood. Lots of men in the cafés. We decide to sit down for some çay to soak in the atmosphere. I love Turkish tea—their ruby color, their slightly astringent taste (I drink it without sugar), the way it’s served in translucent, flared glasses.



The day ends in the good-natured frenzy of the shopping district around the Egyptian Bazaar and the New Mosque.



Before heading back, we finally buy the famous "Istanbul kart" at the Eminönü station. A quick stop at the supermarket—tonight, we’re dining in. Tomorrow, Sultanahmet and its sumptuous monuments. Tomorrow, it’s Byzantium...
GA Gaura Veteran ·
It’s such a pleasure to read your posts and follow along on your Istanbul adventure. So far, your photos look just like the ones I took about ten years ago. It was during an election period, and some parties were holding rallies with singing and mixed dancing (women weren’t veiled). And Hagia Sophia was still a museum where I saw a beautiful calligraphy exhibit.

I’m worried that with Erdogan’s iron grip, a lot of that might have disappeared... Looking forward to seeing what else you share in your travel journal!
RI RichardXI Regular ·
Hi Noëlle, thanks!

I’ll definitely touch on some issues related to Erdoğan’s presidency later in the travel journal (though I won’t turn my story into a political manifesto 😉)
MO Montagnard74 Globetrotter ·
Hello. Of course I’m following your trip—still so well written, documented, and illustrated—in this city I only brushed through during a city break in autumn 2017.
KA Kate Globetrotter ·
Kate, who always takes the lead on our trips, handles transport, accommodation, and thinks of all the formalities (money, passport...)

So impressive! A total multitasker...

And then, she has no sense of direction—none at all!

Still, thanks to me we get lost, and that’s when we discover all kinds of cool places! 😛
KA Kate Globetrotter ·
Hi Bruno

Thanks for being here 😉 I’d read your travel journal back in 2017. I actually took another look at it before heading back to Istanbul. The city hasn’t changed fundamentally—just a bit more or a bit less of a lot of things. A few more tourists, a few more Chinese shops, a few more standardized restaurants, a few more hijabs, and—finally—a lot more expensive! But nothing that would really put us off. We adapt and work around it, like in so many places these days.

MO Montagnard74 Globetrotter ·
@richardXI Whether Kate is multitasking or just has no sense of direction, I can’t say. But we’ll need to keep an eye on her mental health because she’s talking about a travel journal that never existed 🤪. One she "leaned over again before leaving" 😮. Or maybe she’s referring to the DMs we exchanged while planning your trip... Or maybe I’m just overthinking it 😄
KA Kate Globetrotter ·
On the other hand, we’ll have to keep an eye on her mental health because she’s talking about a journal that never existed

Uh... that’s rough I mixed it up with Vasyvite’s travel journal 🏴‍☠️ Sorry!

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