Turkey

Istanbul hit differently from the moment I landed. The city doesn't let you settle — there's always a dome on the horizon, always a ferry horn across the water, always a smell of sesame bread or grilled corn pulling you somewhere. I spent most of my time just walking, getting turned around in Sultanahmet, ending up at the Bosphorus shore without meaning to.

Topkapi Palace was the one place I could have stayed for a full day. The clock collection alone — all those gilded European timepieces gifted to Ottoman sultans — had me pressing my face against the display cases. And then you step out onto the terrace and the strait opens up in front of you, container ships moving in slow motion, the Asian shore sitting low and hazy across the water.

The rooftop terrace above Sultanahmet, with the kilim cushions spread out and the New Mosque sitting in the middle distance, is the kind of spot that ruins you for ordinary cafes. I had tea up there as the light went orange, watching the Bosphorus Bridge glow in the distance. The baklava from the shop near the Grand Bazaar, the mushroom soup in that flower-covered restaurant, the pistachio dondurma outside Galata Tower — Istanbul fed me well and I was happy to let it.