Within the heart of travel

I will never forget the day I sailed goodbye to the bustling and busy European quarter of Istanbul for an afternoon adventure on the overlooked banks of Istanbul's history.

Without any direction I began to wander away from the harbour and into the cultural district of Kadikoy. The streets held an obscure charm. Tiny cobbled roads were littered with second-hand stores, tea rooms, mens clubs and gangs of alley cats. Sleepy lamps swayed along sleepy roads that lead away from the grey-green waters of the Bosphorus strait.

It immediately felt as if I had floated into a dilapidated museum of abstract art. I opened my eyes to the beautiful textures of broken brick and decayed wood. Old red paint bled down the walls. Rusted gold and copper shone like the remnants of a shipwrecked treasure chest. Collages of cloth, mosaics and peeling paint stained the skin of Kadikoy. As the walls and building decayed, the alchemy of the elements transformed them into beautiful paintings, creating the districts unique palette. Crippled buildings stood next to vacant houses that have been patched closed with steel and wooden panels. The engraving of a woman’s face on the wall hinted to the haunted. House numbers seemed to remain intact.

The wall of a car park outlined the shape of where a staircase used to be. The skeleton of a building kept pigeons for tenants and reminded me of one of Dali’s surreal micro worlds, the combination of life and decay.

I'll never forget the subtle beauty of that afternoon and the dream state consciousness it inspired. Nor will I forget opening my computer yesterday and finding this writing scholarship! I will never forget how my heart raced, my mind ahead of itself already in Berlin... how far I have travelled in my dreams since then!