istanbul sucks in a lifetime of regret

i landed here with a suitcase, a grudge, and a playlist of bad life choices that kept repeating itself. the weather was that soggy chill where you forget if you’re wearing a coat or just soul-dead. everyone walks with that wet skull vibe. i heard the bosphorus bridge was built on broken promises. or maybe that’s the cable cars. either way, it felt like a tax on strangers.

quick answers

q: is this place worth visiting?
a: only if you like thinking twice about every thing you buy. the food? okay, there’s a nice shish kebab place but it’s like someone microwaved it in the street. the people? some smile, some hate you. it’s not a city you fall in love with halfway through. unless you like heartbreak.

q: is it expensive?
a: yeah, but not in the way that feels unfair. hotels here charge like a bar tab in tokyo. hostels? some are cheaper. others? i found one charging more than a weekend in dubai.

q: who would hate it here?
a: backpackers thinking this is the saudi desert. anyone who expects silence. or a biking road that didn’t end at a construction zone.

q: best time to visit?
a: when the rain stops and the cold shows up. spring is chaotic. winter? i cried in a metro station. summer? everyone’s either sweating or avoiding the sun like it’s a villain.

q: safety vibe?
a: it’s safe but don’t pretend you know it. i walked alone at night once. didn’t get robbed. got asked why i wasn’t filming the bosphorus for instagram.

this city’s logic is a spreadsheet written by a cat. i asked a local why the tram stops at 8pm. they said, 'it’s because the mayor’s sleep debt is 12 hours.' i laughed. then i didn’t. now i wait for trams like it’s a dating app.

i heard the kebab stands close the bosphorus use mayo in their searing shish. i checked. it’s true. the yogurt smells like regret. someone told me that a vendor in kemalpaşa market once dumped a bag of stale bread in a tourist’s suitcase. i didn’t say how true that is but i’ve started avoiding fresh bread everywhere.

the metro here isn’t just slow. it’s a string of bad decisions. i paid 1.20 turkish lira for a ride that took 20 minutes. during which i overheard two teens arguing about whether embroidery is a crime. the station clerks? most can’t pronounce 'turkey.' it’s like dating a language from another planet.

repeating that it’s not touristy: i saw a tourist once try to haggle over a sarong. vendor said, 'you look like you stepped out of a camping show. is that your vibe?' i didn’t cry. i nodded. it was accurate.

i heard a local warned me about the taksim square at night. said it’s like a wedding where everyone’s mad. i showed up at 11pm. some guy yelling about a lost wallet, a mime juggling taxidermy cats, a woman selling ‘prophetic energy’ under a neon sign. it felt like a rejection party.

i saw a coffee line that moved slower than a sloth’s bowel movement. a latte costs five euros here. someone told me it’s because they’re secret agents saving the world. i laughed. i also laughed when i paid the cashier.

best part? the stray cats. they judge you. if you look like you’re on vacation, they stare. if you look like you belong, they hiss but don’t chase. it’s poetic. or horrifying. depends on your midlife crisis phase.

someone told me the spices in the local markets are older than most people’s life regrets. i bought saffron. it came in a bag labeled 'mysterious aroma.' turned out it was cumin. i used it. it tasted like… compliance.

i heard the tax here is a mystery. i paid more than in amsterdam without knowing. a local said the government keeps it as a ‘talent tax.’ i asked what that meant. they shut up. i didn’t ask again.

this place is a paradox. you can’t hate it enough to leave but you can’t stay long enough to like it. my suitcase was lighter when i left. probably because i threw away the memories. or maybe the hot weather melted them.

someone said the only good thing here is the hammam. i didn’t go. i heard it’s just a public shower with more essential oils. i’m sticking to my resort in thailand where the water didn’t try to kill me.

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