THE PIAZZA GALATA

It is a late summer we are having in Istanbul. We used to have clear-cut seasons when I was a kid here, I remember. I could distinguish the spring breeze from the fall breeze, or I believed I could do so, hahahah! For this kind of breeze, we have an expression in Turkish; limonata kıvamında rüzgar, which translates as lemonade like breeze. It is the gentle, pleasant breeze, which refreshes one like a sweet homemade lemonade on a hot summer day. We are in Galata, the heart of the ancient Genoese trade colony. The piazza Galata. It is the familiar breeze we are washed with. I feel at home. The vespas quietly purring. The couples kissing. Under the red canopies of the shops and restaurants people sipping their espressos. Someone says “It is like Italy, is not it? It is not like Istanbul?”

I believe Istanbul is the feeling of dislocation for many of us. You are transferred from one moment to another, never quite able to associate it with the city in your mind or pinpoint it clearly. Where you are is always blurry here. If you think you are having a not-so-like-Istanbul moment, then you are definitely in Istanbul:) 

 

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