Istanbul, my first shipwreck

Travelling is all about experience, that's why when I'm on the road I try my best to look like a local, adopt locals' manners and customs that are different from what I'm used to and try to think and behave like a local.

Lucky me, I'm helped in my efforts by the fact that everywhere I go, I'm mistaken for a local: I go to Brasil, locals think I'm Brasilian, I go to Istanbul, locals think I'm my friends' local guide, in London Arabs talk to me in Arabic, Iranians in Farsi and so and so forth.

I love it.

So, when I was in Istanbul I was determined to live up to my principles and I tried to emulate locals wherever I was: I smoked nargileh, played a table game because I saw everybody was playing it (although I couldn't manage to understand my teacher's explanations in Turkish, and I lost) and I kept wearing the veil even outside the mosques (this is just because I'm convinced that it suits me, but I took it off when I realised I was the only one wearing it).

Despite my vocation though, the best experience came about by some quirk of fate when I was behaving like the perfect tourist. My friends and I booked a cruise along the Bosphorus to relax and enjoy Istanbul's most momentous highlight, and ended up shipwrecking.

The beginning was not too bad, ship-wise. Actually it was great, a lovely sunny day, our guides, Alparslan and Vittorio, were showing us the wonders on both sides of this stretch of water that divides the European from the Asian continent, explaining the differences between the two parts of Istanbul and granting us with some tips about where to go to eat, club and shop.

After passing underneath the huge bridge that connects the two Continents, we stopped for a coffee on the Asian side. A great espresso taken sitting outside a lovely bar perched on the very edge. Yes, sometimes happiness can be that simple.

We hopped on our boat, started up the engine and stared at the coloured flowers while we moved away toward our coast. Almost immediately after departure, we perceived some concern within the crew members, even if we didn't understand Turkish. It didn't take long that the engine stopped working.

At first, we thought we were about to stare at something really worth a stop, but in less than no time we understood we were in trouble. The boat started sinking and allowing too much water in. We were surrounded by other boats so we weren't that scared. At the beginning laughter and jokes came out spontaneously and we even suggested our guides to consider staging a shipwreck during their tours.

The engine didn't seem quite keen on working, so our captain called his brother to tow us to the port. He arrived, picked us up and our engine started working, so he left us alone. Only ten seconds later, our engine broke down again.

Among our travel companions there was a Spanish couple: the lady wore the orange rescue jacket to amuse everyone and she actually managed to, but at the end, more than an hour later, they both felt seasick. I thought I could swim, as I'm a good swimmer and it was a warm day, but when I looked at the water and saw it was full of jellyfish, I hoped someone would come to rescue us as soon as possible.

At the end, we went for a drink with our guides and today, thinking about the adventure makes me smile and realise how much I miss Istanbul. The crew members were great, never stopped laughing and joking, as well as our guides.

Although unplanned, shipwrecking made the cruise all together more interesting and worth remembering, and by all means, it was an experience. The conclusion was as unpredictable as the beginning. Only when the danger was averted, I called my parents to tell them about my latest adventure, doing my best not to make them worry:

"Today, while we were cruising along the Bosphorus, we shipwrecked, but don't worry, we were rescued and I'm completely fine!"

"You shipwrecked?? Lucky you! We're so jealous!"

"But, mom..."

Tea and tradition in typical Istanbul

I just got back from Istanbul and am already planning my second trip to that beautiful Turkish city, half in the European continent, half in the Asian land, divided by the charming Bosphorus, where the Sea of Marmara and the Black Sea meet.

Apart from the strictly touristic attractions, where travellers are both flattered and cheated by expert and cheeky traders, Turkish people are just lovely.

One day I happened to be in a not very touristic spot and the display of some of the best cakes ever lured me inside the shop. I found myself in an old-fashioned, woody-decorated café with a mouthwatering view of any kind of pastries and cakes, of any shape and flavour, from chocolate to strawberry to raspberry.

As usual, I took a look at the cosy shop and started taking photos. The spot was way too cute to leave it behind without a picture. Lined up along the windows were the tables, and the last one was covered with books and had a pair of reading glasses on top.

At first I thought the books could have been of the boy who served behind the counter, probably an university student as that was a pretty young area and quite populated by students.

Coming back to my seat, I noticed that actually those books belonged to a tall and gentle-mannered man, most likely the owner of the café. Shamelessly, I approached him while he was concentrated on his books and I asked him what he was doing. Clearly amused but by no means surprised and with an expert savoir faire, he replied (in Turkish) something that I interpreted as "reading the Koran".

In fact, he had a book in Arabic and one in Turkish. I have always been very much attracted by Arabic culture, language, traditions, and somehow I got very excited at the idea that the gentleman spoke Arabic. Apparently, he appreciated my questions and gave me three books.

With the aid of hands, a mix between Turkish, English and Italian and a small dictionary, I understood that they were the explanation of the Koran in English.

In the wake of 30 years spent in the desperately profit-driven Western society, the last thing I would expect when I enter a café and order tea and cookies is that the owner will give me a book, let alone three.

After this and other stories, I can say that I will surely be back to Istanbul and undoubtedly look for that café close to Galata Tower.