izmit: when the fog rolled in and my camera shivered

i arrived in izmit with a dead battery and a head full of fog, thinking i'd capture the industrial soul or whatever the instagram hashtags call it. reality hit fast: it was drizzling, the kind of drizzle that makes your lens feel like it's wearing a wet sock, and i was already regretting my life choices. i just checked and it's 9.4°C but feels like 5.55°C because the humidity's 93% and the pressure is 1005 hPa - basically, i was a popsicle with a camera. the sky was that flat gray that only shows up when the sea level pressure dips and the grnd level is 992, making everything look like a washed-out photo negative. i should've brought a scarf, but i'm never that smart.

i wandered toward the waterfront, where cranes and cargo ships silhouette against the gloom. the smell of diesel and fish mixed in a way that's oddly photogenic if you can ignore the nausea. i set up my old Nikon, the one with the sticky shutter button, and tried to catch the gulls doing that weird hover thing they do when the wind's off the sea. someone told me that the best light for the shipyard is at dawn, but i was there at noon, so i got harsh shadows and a bunch of angry seagulls diving for my lens cap. i heard that the local fishermen gather at the market around five in the morning, but i'm not a morning person unless coffee is involved, and i wasn't about to ask anyone for directions at that hour.

i ducked into a tiny café called 'Köprüaltı' because the sign had a hand-drawn cup and i needed a warm place to defrost my fingers. the place smelled like strong coffee and wet wool, perfect. i ordered a çay and a simit, and the barista, a woman with purple hair and a sleeve tattoo, started talking about how izmit used to be a textile hub before everything went overseas. 'now we just have memories and good coffee,' she said, sliding me a slice of banana bread. i asked about nearby spots for street photography, and she mentioned a hidden courtyard behind the old post office with vines crawling over broken tiles. 'it's like a secret garden, but watch out for the cat colony,' she warned. i made a mental note.

after my coffee, i headed to the ferry terminal to catch a ride across the gulf. the map shows you can hop on for a few lira and get a great view of the skyline. i bought a ticket, and as the boat pulled away, i finally saw izmit from the water - rows of warehouses, minarets poking through smog, and the mountains in the distance shrouded in low clouds. it was actually beautiful in a gritty way. i snapped a few frames, trying to capture the contrast between old and new. someone told me that the ferry ride gets packed during rush hour, but i was mid-afternoon and had the upper deck almost to myself. the breeze was cold, but the motion of the waves made my stomach do that thing where it thinks it's on a rollercoaster. i focused on a cargo ship loading containers, the metallic clangs echoing across the water. i posted a quick story on instagram with a location tag; my followers ate it up, asking if i was in istanbul. i replied: 'nope, izmit. it's the real deal.'

i debarked on the other side and walked through a neighborhood that felt like a time capsule: narrow alleys, laundry strung between balconies, kids playing soccer with a deflated ball. i found the hidden courtyard exactly as described - vines, broken tiles, and indeed a colony of scruffy cats sunning themselves on a crumbling wall. i set up my tripod and tried a long exposure to blur the moving leaves, but the wind was too strong, so i got a bunch of motion blur on everything. my hands were shaking from the cold anyway. i decided to head back to my Airbnb before i lost feeling in my toes.

that night i scrolled through my shots, deleted most of them, but kept a few where the light hit just right on a puddle reflecting a neon sign. i also found a few frames from the ferry where the composition actually worked. i'll probably never be famous, but i get a kick out of capturing these overlooked corners. if you ever find yourself in izmit, take the ferry, get a çay, and wander without a plan. and maybe bring gloves.

if you're hungry, there's a kebab place on Kemal Mahir Sokak that a local raved about - i stumbled upon it after getting lost twice. the adana kebab was charcoal-grilled and spicy enough to clear my sinuses. check out the TripAdvisor reviews for the hype; i'd say it's legit. also, the Yelp page has some drunk reviews that are pretty funny. if you need more info, the Izmit Tourism Board has a list of events, though it's mostly industrial fairs.

if you get bored, bursa's just a short bus ride away across the gulf, and istanbul's a quick ferry hop if you need big-city lights. but izmit has its own rhythm - slow, damp, and surprisingly photogenic.

here's a peek at what i saw (these are from my collection, but i've thrown in a couple from unsplash for good measure):

and here's a map of the area for reference:

i'm still not sure if izmit loved me or just tolerated me, but i'll be back in spring when the vines are greener and my fingers don't turn blue. until then, keep your lenses clean and your coffee hot.

You might also be interested in:

• https://votoris.com/post/lost-in-lutsk-a-drummers-ramble
• https://votoris.com/post/cairo-through-a-cracked-lens-a-sleepdeprived-photographers-scramble
• https://votoris.com/post/basildon-uk-where-the-rain-smells-like-damp-concrete-and-dreams-go-to-retire
• https://votoris.com/post/local-etiquette-and-traditions-how-not-to-offend-people-in-winnipeg
• https://votoris.com/post/kyoto-chaos-lost-in-translation-and-matcha-2