Dream City the Capital of the World: Istanbul

It Is Hard To Express Istanbul With Words. Wherever Of Him Put Into Words, His Another Beauty Become Mournful. Whichever District Of Him Is Praised, The Mind Hangs On One Another. Beautiful Istanbul Magical City.

Istanbul dream city, the capital of the world… In it you can find people of all religions, all languages, all races; cradle of culture, flower of nature. Where people from all over the world flocked, some of whom cannot leave. So, what did I find in Istanbul?

Actually, I am not a stranger of these land; my ancestors (I am talking about my grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather past more than ten generations) always been here. Although we cannot reach the root of a comprehensive family tree, one branch goes back to the Byzantine era and the other goes back to the Venetians and the Genoese, which came to trade here during the Ottoman Empire. A grandfather who is an engineer comes to construction of Haydarpasa Railway Station. The years that have gone on, our big family; that is me and six brothers rooted here as it approaches today… Both Italian and Turkish.

Why is it impossible for me to live in another city? I think “love” is the first word to start explaining from the right place. Then there are the experiences I have mentioned; family, first love, youth adventures, friendships, educational life, a career I have established. It is all included to love, of course.

Watching The Seagulls Dancing With The Sea
Then you come to the city, Eminonu pops up. Look from above, look from below. Focus on hustle and bustle, listen to the shouting of the fish and bread sellers. Take a nice tour of the Grand Bazaar; pass by the spice sellers for example, inhale the smell. In the simplest term, take a simit (Turkish bagel), sit on one of the benches, softly ruminate as watching the seagulls dance to the sea.

Was it a too natural and lonely dream, would you wanted to hang out with your friends? Go to Besiktas or Kadikoy, spend time with them, have a drink together and get on the nostalgic trams casually or so on. Take a picture or shoot a video and make vlogs just for yourself. The background is so beautiful that even if you do not want it, you are gonna save history.

What do you want to eat? Open Google and ask for it; it is impossible not to find anything according to your heart. There is Golden Horn, then Eyup Sultan; travel and have fun after your heart.

Istanbul  Is A Part Of Me
Shall we talk about history, let’s not enter, the word would be too long. However If you have not visit Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia yet, you have lost a lot things. If you have not visit Topkapı or Naval Museum, it is one more deficiency to comprehend the atmosphere of this city. You are an artist or enthusiasts? Biennials, exhibitions, you will find one in every corner. Her old steamships, her historical buildings… A distant sound of ezan (call of prayer), a little further away, you hear church bells.

As a person who has traveled half of the Europe, every time I go abroad, I start to miss Istanbul beginning from the fifth day. Because it is impossible to find in anywhere such a cultural wealth accompanied with magnificent nature. I miss Istanbul because she is a part of me and I am part of her.

NOTE

“I Am Istanbolite”
“I was born in Sisli; I spent my life in the triangle of Sisli, Beyoglu and Besiktas. I went to primary school in Bomonti; high school in Galatasaray (Beyoglu), private teaching institution in Besiktas, university and master’s again in Galatasaray. Throughout my youth, I always came across the question: What are you doing in Istanbul? I say I am already from here, and the answer is always the same: “But your name is foreign…” I mean, oh my beautiful brother the language is foreign to me but the land is not foreign at all. The earth is full of me with the ones both above and the below. I am from Istanbul, from the old, very old. Not even an immigrant; maybe one of the oldest living ones in Istanbul. When I came to college, the type of question changed: “What are you doing here anyway, are not you Italian? Run, save yourself!” the answer was always the same from me: “The earth is from me, it will not break off with the top and bottom.”

By: Michele Cedolin

*This article was  published in the  July– August issue of Marmara Life. 

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