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After some deliberation on clothes, I settle on jeans and a loose-fitting blouse, adorned with intricate embroidery and tassels, a nod to the city’s rich Ottoman heritage.
With the outfit sorted, I move onto hair and makeup. I sit down at my makeshift vanity and brush my hair, deciding to leave it down, option for a loose, beachy wave. For makeup, I keep it simple, opting for a tinted moisturizer and just a touch of lip gloss.
I slip a pashmina into my bag and I’m ready. Kaan is similarly dressed down, wearing his crazy Turkish pants and a deep blue t-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and strong, tanned arms.
“Come on, Pretty Boy.” I say playfully,standing on my toes to kisshim. “Show me your Istanbul.”
The pre-dawn morning is overcast with a layer of fog so thick that I can barely see more than a few feet in front of me. We have stepped into a dream world, where everything is hazy and surreal. The sounds of the city are muffled, as though the city itself is holding its breath waiting for the day to begin. None of this deters Kaan in the slightest though and he is chomping at the bit to get a move on. He casually slides his arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his side to shelter me from the chill as we step through the gate. “Shall we walk?”
“Is it far?”
“We’re being picked up at the jetty at Karakoy, but walking is the best way to see the city.”
“Even with all this fog?”
The streetlights glow softly, and the shadows of the buildings dance around us. The sound of the call to prayer echoes through the fog, adding to the mystique and I’m happy to be nestled in Kaan’s side as we walk along the damp streets towards the water.
“There’s something magical about walking around Istanbul in the early hours, don’t you think? For a city of over 20 million people, it’s probably the only time where you can feel like you are the only person in the city.”
But we aren’t the only people in the city. Despite the early hour, there are still people going about their daily routines. A shopkeeper is opening up for the day, unlocking the shutters, sweeping the storefront and preparing to welcome customers. He calls out softly and a cat darts in front of us, racing to the warmth inside the shop.
Suddenly, a ghostly figure appears through the haze; a man with a large tray filled with some kind of breaded bagels atop his head. He is shrouded in the fog, and his figure seems to float towards us. I jump in fright at the sight of him. Kaan laughs apologetically to the vendor and purchases two of the bagels, handing me one as we resume walking. “Simit. Eat.”
The crunchy roped bread is good and I happily munch it down as we wander along the street. Kaan points out interesting buildings with his own knowledge of little pieces of history as we go. His knowledge and passion for Istanbul is infectious, and I can’t help but be swept up in the beauty and history of the city.
As we continue down the street Kaan points out theSirkeci Istasyonu, famously known as the final destination of the legendary Orient Express from Paris. We then pass the Spice Markets where with a mischievous grin, Kaan playfully reminds me that I should probably stock up on spices while we are here before he points in the distance.
“Galata Köprüsü.” Kaan’s gaze fixates on a bridge ahead, only partially visible in the distance. “Normally you can see Galata Tower from here,” Kaan explains with a hint of disappointment, “But it doesn’t look like we’re going to be lucky today.”
“The fog?”
“Legend has it that whoever you climb Galata Tower with, you are fated to marry.” He pauses letting the weight of the legend sink in.
“But,” he adds with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “the legend carries a twist. If one of them has visited the tower before, then the talisman is believed to be broken.”
“Aww… that’s too bad for us.”
“Cheeky!”
“What is it about Galata Tower that you love so much?”
He pauses, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes. “Galata Tower helped me when I needed it the most.”
“How so?”
“Long story. Let’s just say that I was spiralling when I was younger,” Kaan’s voice carries the weight of his past struggle. “Dad had just died and mum brought us to Istanbul for the summer. I was angry… at her… at my dad… at the world. I didn’t want to be away from my friends. I didn’t want to be stuck at my grandfather’s place.”
“One day mum and I had a fight and I pissed off. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew I had to get out of there. I walked for hours, along thesahil—the waterfront—just staring out at the water. There in the distance, on the other side of the Bosphorus standing proudly above everything else, was Galata Tower.”
I can almost picture a young Kaan, a mixture of defiance and vulnerability, transfixed by the tower’s presence across the Bosphorus.
“It was as if the tower called out to me. I had no money so I snuck onto a ferry and finally made it to the tower. I convinced someone to let me go in with them—”
“Maybe that’s the person you’re destined to marry.”
Kaan laughs loudly and it echoes in the gloom of the foggy street. “It was an older German couple. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t their type. I finally made it to the top just before the sun set. Stepping out onto the platform I was awestruck; all of Istanbul was spread out before me and I gazed at the view. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I cried as I watched my first sun set from the tower. I knew in that moment that I was going to be okay. Turns out I was wrong, but the peace I felt in that moment stayed with me for some time. Now, I try to never miss a sunset when I’m visiting, I’ve visited so often that I’m friends with everyone that works there. It’s my safe place where I can think; a place of calm and balance amongst the crazy of my life.”
“Will we get a chance to come back?”
