A city of Istanbul exists outside the limits of time or place. The past blends with the present as ancient stones press against bright lights next to the rumble of ferry engines on the Bosphorus. The air fills with the aroma of spice markets along with burning charcoal as prayers ring out through streets that date back to times before records.

The city refuses simple entry but draws people in with its own pulse, disorder or splendor.

I stepped into a foggy morning where buildings cut sharp shapes against a silver horizon. My previous visit happened years before when I searched for purpose. This return brought a different goal – to hear what Istanbul had to say.

The City that speaks in layers

Istanbul refuses to show its true nature at first glance. It contains stories as deep as the çay in tulip-shaped glasses where each taste shows an unknown part.

A visit to Sultanahmet revealed traces of past empires. The Hagia Sophia stands as proof of time with domes along with minarets that tell tales of sultans or conquerors. The halls held a presence that sank into my core.

The Grand Bazaar appeared as a web of colors or sounds where sellers spoke multiple languages. A mix of saffron next to leather filled the air as visitors found items from real carpets to counterfeit watches.

“You seem like a person who asks many questions” said a spice merchant with a smile.

“Always,” I replied.

He offered me some deep red spice that looked almost purple. “Taste.”

The sumac tasted sharp but fresh.

“Istanbul matches this flavor,” he explained. “You need to let it rest on your tongue to know it.”

I agreed as the city settled in my mind.

The Ferry to Somewhere

The best way to understand Istanbul is to leave it.

I took a ferry to Kadıköy across from Europe to Asia in less than twenty minutes. Seagulls screamed overhead as the water hit against the boat. The wind brought a mix of sea, fish or salt next to a metallic scent that felt ancient.

Kadıköy showed a local spirit. Old men played backgammon in tea houses while graffiti on walls told stories of rebellion. A café appeared with books in uneven stacks. I ordered menemen – a breakfast that creates reasons to stay. The eggs mixed with tomatoes or peppers along with spices. Also the bread kept its warmth from the oven.

The hours passed as I watched the city. People rushed about then paused to experience life.

The nights that hold you hostage

Istanbul at night becomes something else. Streets shine with a golden glow or nargile smoke fills the air as bars hide in small courtyards where music flows into the darkness.

I found myself in Beyoğlu at a bar without a name – just a red door along with a staircase down to a basement full of energy.

The band played fast or wild music that made everyone drink too much rakı as well as forget morning plans. A table of strangers welcomed me as our words mixed in broken Turkish besides English or our laughter rose above the music.

A woman who lined her eyes with kohl moved closer and said “You’ll never really leave Istanbul you know.”

I believed her.

The City that stays with you

Istanbul is not a place to visit. The city happens to you. It flows into your skin next to your breath or settles deep inside you.

I departed in the fog when the buildings faded as the plane took off. But I remained there in my mind. The city had changed a part of me ‒ or maybe it filled a space I never noticed before.

I knew I would return.

A few places keep hold of people.

Also Istanbul? The city stays forever.