All my roads to Asia pass through Istanbul

This time, sipping chai and enjoying an early morning narghile on a sunny Sunday morning, over the bridge of Galata, watching the life go by all around me. I wish I could stop the time and freeze that day, at least until I’ve finished reading the Orhan Pamuk’s My Name is Red.

However, this morning start of a 2 week travel proved very inspiring for the rest of the day, which I spent walking aimlessly and searching for the unexpected through the old Dolmabahce quarter, to the winding streets of Galata and down to the fish market on the shores of the bay of Fanar.

Flag mania: local customs or exhibitionism?

What does the ubiquitous presence of flags on private buildings or at crossroads say? What about huge flags, do they mean anything special than smaller ones?

I’d rather refrain from speculating, since I could only scratch the surface of the issue, so better leave it to the more knowledgeable ones.

Biiiiir million-bir million-bir million, or the street noise I’ve started to associate with mouth-watering kebabs and freshly squeezed pomegranate juice. Although the Turkish Lira has been denominated almost 2 years ago, prices are still told, advertised or shouted in millions of lira.