Finding the Spirit of Istanbul

The eerie calls of the muezzins echo off elegant Ottoman style buildings, their voices bouncing off one another, bringing me, a non-believer, to close my eyes in awe at the beauty of their prayer. I want to stand still in the middle of Istiklal Caddesi and soak in each unearthly voice but I would be jostled to the ground by the throngs of Istanbullus on this wide and bustling avenue.
The call reminds me that it’s late and I’m hungry so I dip in and out between mustachioed men linking arms and ghostly women floating down the street in black burqas. I squeeze through a group of girls in boldly colored hijab laughing with their western dressed friends and I emerge on a brightly lit side street.
The smiling maître d’s are a chorus of yes please! yes please! like dark haired birds fighting over me. The pungent odor of fresh, raw sea food assaults my nostrils. A rainbow of fish is doused with ice water by an aproned shopkeeper. I am fascinated by the bulging, glossy eyeballs of these dead sea creatures, yet repelled by their stink, so I move quickly away past pyramids of vividly colored spices. I desire to run my fingertips through each grainy pile leaving skinny trails and to let handfuls of nuts and seeds slither and clack against each other in my palms.
I finally reach my destination as the last words of the adhan linger on the crisp night breeze. I push through the dingy door of the dürüm shop and inhale the spicy smells of skewered lamb, onions, peppers, chilies.
After I devour my savory street food, I digest with a warmly proffered traditional Turkish çay. In the rosy liquid, sweetened with sugar cubes, I can taste the layers of the city; the tumultuous history, the infinite landscape, the beauty of the ancient towering over the modern. After I swallow the last drop, the once twirling and dancing tea leaves in my tulip shaped glass lay melancholy at the bottom and the hüzün of this astonishing city settles over me.