During my visit to Istanbul, I hired a driver. He took me from the ancient city and its Golden Horn all the way to the mouth of the Black Sea.
At the scheduled time, I stood on the cobblestone street in front of the guesthouse that was my home in the Sultanahmet district. Soon, a shiny black four-door sedan pulled up. The driver wore a crisp white shirt, black trousers, and a black coat. He walked around the car to the rear passenger door and opened it for me. The car’s interior was dressed in an immaculate white leather. He was Russian and spoke very little English. I spoke no Russian.
For the rest of the day, despite the language and cultural, barriers, we got along great. He was a wonderful host and guide. My camera was in my hands like a permanent appendage. I believe he saw this as a clue. He never missed an opportunity to stop whenever light fell just right on an old mansion, mosque, or fishing vessel.
At the apex of our trip, we reached the point where the Bosphorus meets the Black Sea. My driver took me to his favorite seafood restaurant. He ordered for both of us – fresh sardines straight from the Black Sea over mixed greens. A meal and a trip I will never forget.
This blog is a place for stories and conversations. Add your voice below – I'd love to hear it.