I’m in Istanbul again. I was last here for a couple of days in January on my way back from Russia to the UK. On that occasion, I saw some of the sites, notably the Basilica Cistern built in the sixth century by the Emperor Justinian I, and the Blue Mosque, (17th century, Ottoman).

This time it feels a little more real. I am staying in an AirBnB flat. The flat is located in an authentic quarter of Istanbul, on the Asian side, but quite central, in Bostan region. In French, one could say it is a quartier très typique. There are a lot of little cafés, also workshops – cars, joinery and so on. I’ve only walked around a couple of the local streets and, during the day, they are full of life. People are shopping, working, chatting with friends on the pavements. Some young people put up a sound system and were dancing, at the end of the alley were my AirBnB is situated. There are a lot of mopeds; usually with two people. Helmets seem to be optional. One father was taking his two children somewhere on his moped, one in front of him, one behind. There are stray cats everywhere. And, at regular intervals the stirring call to prayer from the mosque.

The main problem is that I speak no Turkish. Not even “hello”. I feel bad; I don’t like being in a country and not being able to speak at least some of their language. I get the impression that there are plenty of foreigners in Istanbul, though, so it will be nothing unusual for anyone. So far, I have met nothing but tolerance. In the Starbucks the young woman serving spoke English; but in the more local cafés I think it will be a different matter.

While I was in Starbucks a boy came in selling bottles of water. This seems to be a thing in Istanbul; boys selling small items at a markup. A previous time I was here, I was staying in a grand hotel, and while sitting in the café I noticed a boy outside trying to sell packets of tissues. The rich, bored people vaping at the tables outside ignored him. The boy looked wretched and miserable. I felt bad that I didn’t go outside and buy one of his packets of tissues. So, I quickly dismissed my reflex action today to drive this one away, and I let him provide me with two bottles of water. I only had a 200 lira note on me, about $4.00 – far too much for a small bottle of water, so I got two. Still far too much. He was very grateful and went outside and told his friends, two of whom came in also trying to unload their wares, but I had to show them that my pockets were empty, and I had no more money.

It is 9.30 in the evening now and there is plenty of life still going on in the street. I have the feeling this is not going to be a very quiet month.