Universal Traveler

It smells like Orientalism, as Edward Said would say. Incense, myrrh and camels. Spices. Mosques and the reminiscence of old legends, bazaars, travellers and silk merchants. Europe meets Asia; and this bridge…Galata, separates and, at the same time, puts together, the old continents. East and West. Where Islam meets Christianity. Will religion tear us apart? Joy Division comes to my mind. Too much beauty for Ian Curtis.
Istanbul, the smell of morning, foul wasted air and sleep sealed eyes. It is my first time in Turkey. Silence and the smell of tea and tobacco. The smoky breeze, made of wool, ethereal gauze. Teardrops of history and centuries of stories behind it. Their story, our history.
I write, and I draw and I get lost. Overwhelmed. I would need an eternity to understand the complexity of this magical place. Aya Sofia and the Galata tower dominate the city. The cities.
Kohl and the weight of tradition. Fingernails coloured by henna and the blessings of the prophet. A new word in my notebook: hammam. Water absorbing the sin rays and still that bridge. Standing. Galata bridge. Fishermen mix with tourists with a Reflex camera, trying to capture the moment, the lights. Oh, that light. Impossible. Even the best camera cannot capture the magnificent twilight.
I put my headphones on and listen to Caribbean Blue by Enya. But it is not Caribbean. It is Mediterranean, Aegean, Marmara; and it is not blue is Black. The Black Sea on the other side. It reminds me of Gibraltar Strait, in Spain, my country. The Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. Two worlds, Africa and Europe. Too different, and too similar at the same time. In Istanbul, two seas, and a bridge that divides two different worlds. But we are all humans, right?