Istanbul

Istanbul, that storied metropolis which has known many names. A capital whose imperial prominence endured for a thousand years after the fall of Rome. A city in perpetual reinvention. A crucible of culture, trade, and tyranny whose edifices vaunt the accomplishments of Romans, Byzantines, Ottomans, Turks, and their untold vassals. A transcontinental conurbation - the only one of its kind - that links East and West.

Even on the short ride from the border to the city, the layers of this complex nation began flaking away like brittle filo dough: surveillance cameras and cardboard policemen at every turn, murmurs of runaway inflation, and the strident calls to prayer which ricochet across the land.

Chief among my to-do’s was a hammam, or Turkish bath. Turns out it’s just waterboarding. First, you strip down, save for a lilliputian towel to protect your modesty, and enter the bath: a marble sanctum whose grandeur is obscured by a haze of steam, and in many nooks and crannies by a film of limescale and grime. You squat down, fill a bowl with warm tap water and pour it upon yourself. Then you lie down on one of the massive slabs and await your punishment. Soon an obscenely hairy, pot-bellied man appears and proceeds to lather you up, slap you around, and exfoliate your soul. Be sure to time your breaths carefully as your head is pushed into the bench and soapsuds dribble over your nose and mouth. As he scours your arm, he may yank your head to the side and show you all of the dead skin he has removed. When he is finished, he offers a handshake as if to say “no hard feelings.”

Istanbul is an enthralling city, and I wish I could say more about it. But I never set foot inside the Hagia Sophia; never had the chance to square off against those cheeky ice cream vendors. Alas, covid. Hard to say where I got it, but my money’s on the guy who flushed my brain with dirty bathwater.

Five days of febrile quarantine later, I was legally free to leave, though morally obligated to avoid society. Time was ticking, so rather than wait several more days to resume my tour of the city, I opted for the countryside. But I believe my new friend Lacey was right: I will be back to the 'bul.