This week’s #ForTheLoveOfTravel essay arrives from the bustling shores of Istanbul, written as a letter to our Editor-in-Chief, Milo, by Adrijana Husić. A city suspended between continents, Istanbul has long occupied a special place in her heart, drawing her back time and again over the past fourteen years. In this deeply personal reflection, ferries, seagulls, hidden cafés, and Bosphorus sunsets become markers of memory, while the city’s celebrated chaos reveals an unexpected sense of huzur, calm, presence, and belonging. Part love letter, part travel guide, and part meditation on returning, her words invite us to experience Istanbul not as a destination to be checked off a list, but as a living story that continues to unfold with every visit.

Voice Message from Istanbul – How Chaos Can Bring Huzur

I tried to call, but it didn’t go through. So here is another text, which we both know was supposed to be a voice message. But again, you are not listening to it.

And you know what the shame is? You are missing the sound of the ferries and the seagulls. You are missing that specific sound of a teaspoon hitting the glass cup. And you are missing the smell of the fresh Iced Americano that I am holding in my hand right now.

Could you guess the location I am calling from? You’re right. I’m in Istanbul. And this one comes directly from KARABATAK coffee shop — the one you discovered for me back in 2015, was it? I don’t know which visit to Istanbul this is. I did ask my customs officer, but aside from being shocked, she wasn’t very invested in my love affair with Istanbul. It started in 2012 and shows no sign of stopping. I stopped counting arrivals and departures a long time ago. And sighs.

There are cities you visit. And then there are cities that keep returning as if they have never left you. Istanbul is the second kind, for me. In all these years, I have not met a single person left indifferent by it. It is either a great love or a great incomprehension of chaos.

And yes, Istanbul is chaos. But it is also home. The sounds of ships on the Bosphorus, seagulls, whispers and footsteps on cobbled streets, the scent of fresh tea or salep, depending on the season, on every corner. Chestnuts roasting on the street, pomegranates and oranges piled everywhere, spices arranged like mosaics of colour and scent. Simit on every corner. My favourite meal of the day — breakfast lasts all day. And what a feast it is.

This time I arrived during Eid — and if one wants to understand what Istanbul feels like at its most itself, it is during a holiday. The city takes on a specific atmosphere that I cannot fully describe except to say that the chaos becomes ceremonial. Everything is still moving at full speed, but with a different kind of intention.

This trip was also different for another reason. I came with my sister and her son, which meant I became a tour guide in a city I now know by heart and can even surprise taxi drivers. Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, Dolmabahçe Palace, Basilica Cistern, Galata Tower and Istiklal strolling down from Taksim — the full circuit of must-see places that I do not revisit that often when I come alone. And seeing it all again through their eyes reminded me of something I had forgotten. How overwhelming it is. How much does it demand of you before it gives anything back? Suddenly, I was a tourist again. It was humbling and wonderful at the same time but also tiring.

What all these years of visits have given me is the ability to be neither a tourist nor a local — somewhere in between, which is the best place to be in Istanbul. I know where I am going. I know what I am returning to. My Turkish is good enough to navigate, good enough to surprise people, but never enough to feel fluent — thus another reason, as if I needed one, to return repeatedly. And every time I do, locals look at me with this expression — somewhere between amusement and genuine surprise. How much do you know this city? they often ask. Quite a bit, I would say. And even after fourteen years, Istanbul manages to surprise me and discover something new.

I was laughing with my nephew, who complained about oceans of people, as he put it. But these oceans of people, alongside the fact that it is the only city on two continents and our beloved Bosphorus, are precisely what make this city unique. Istanbul is generous, but it is not patient. If you arrive without a plan, it will swallow you whole. And this is why proper planning is essential, which was not the easiest thing to explain to a child, and sometimes also to friends who believe they can do everything in five days.

I know you know this city well, Milo — perhaps better than most. But would you agree with me that this kind of itinerary would show the beauty of Istanbul to a stranger and leave them with an open invitation to come again? European side first — the old European side of Istanbul and its heart: Sultanahmet, Hagia Sophia, Grand Bazaar, Spice Bazaar, contrasted perfectly with Four Seasons Sultanahmet for snacks and drinks just before lunch at Oden 1772 in the heart of Sirkeci, a restaurant that takes you straight back to the Orient Express era. Nothing beats the colourful houses and energy of Balat and Fener in the afternoon, and it leaves you just enough energy to climb up to one of Istanbul’s seven hills — Pierre Loti — for sunset views over the Golden Horn.

Walking the Galata Bridge and moving from the old European side to the new always has something magical about it. It is fascinating to watch all those people moving from one side to the other — from Eminönü Square to a tram or a new ferry, or simply observing the fishermen who seem to have all the patience in the world. Once on the new European side, the energy changes. From Karaköy, which still preserves Istanbul’s old charm, to the recently opened Galataport, breathing modern life into the Bosphorus shore — it all sits comfortably together.

The Peninsula Istanbul, whether for a stay or an afternoon break, gives you that much-needed moment to take a deep breath of Bosphorus air and decide on the next steps. I still love to wander around the Pera area and peek into Pera Palas Hotel — home of the first electric elevator in Constantinople at that time, and a building that carries the soul of the Orient Express in every corridor, as most passengers would stay here, Agatha Christie among them. Around Pera, Galata Tower, and up to Taksim through Istiklal Street is probably the most nostalgic Istanbul you will find.

I do escape often from here, as crowds do not amuse me. But you know what does? Peaceful Bebek, a stroll to Sarıyer and a ride to Tarabya. I would rarely skip a walk around Ortaköy and drinks at Banyan Restaurant. I remember my first time stepping off the ferry onto Asian shores — you will feel like you are in a completely different city. Slower. Calmer. More real. Istanbul is not whole without it. Kadıköy, Moda, Üsküdar, and Kuzguncuk each have their own charms and stories to tell. Whether a newcomer or a repeat visitor, I would always leave at least a day for the Asian side. Especially now that you can cross from one continent to the other not only by ferry but through the Marmaray — the underwater metro running beneath the Bosphorus. Europe to Asia, underground, in minutes.

A small miracle that most visitors completely miss. Looking for museums and bookshops is my passion, and Istanbul Modern never fails to impress. But so many new galleries have opened, and so many small villas and köşks now offer various exhibitions. There is a place I need to take you — Borusan Contemporary, also known as Perili Köşk. It is small, but we could spend a day there contemplating life. I am always reminded there that life is truly the biggest gift we have. And the Bosphorus remains the Bosphorus.

That, I think, is the real reason I keep coming back. You can feel the grandeur of Istanbul from many places — Çamlıca Hill and Otağtepe Park on the Asian side, from the Süleymaniye Mosque terrace, from Büyük Valide Han, or from any of the rooftops in Levent. But you can only truly perceive it from the water itself. Because the Bosphorus has its own life, entirely separate from the life on either shore.

All those boats, all those people crossing from one continent to another — for work, for love, for the simple pleasure of crossing. The ferries, the tankers, the fishing boats, the private vessels — all of them moving to their own rules, their own rhythm.

When you are out there, and you turn back towards the city, you see layer upon layer of life between and beneath the bridges. All this is chaotic, I know. Even my voice sounds like that now because I am tired of all the steps I have taken. And yet — Istanbul is huzur.

Calm and presence at the same time. Strange as it sounds. Orhan Pamuk wrote it better than I ever could — “Sometimes I think life cannot be so terrible. Despite everything, in the end, one can always go out for a walk along the Bosphorus.” I think about that every time I’m here. And every time, it is still true. Milo, if you wonder — the cats are still running the city, the seagulls are still negotiating, and the simit is still on every corner.

I think it’s time we meet again in Istanbul. I still remember how you discovered Maçka Park for me, and the small streets of Karaköy that you sold better to me than anyone else. It was January 2015, freezing cold and snowing — and yet we had an amazing Bağdat Caddesi stroll. You know me — put some festive lights, and you can sell me anything.

You missed my voice message and the sounds of the ferry, the seagulls and the buzz of the Istanbul streets, but put on Ilhan Ersahin’s Istanbul Sessions. I discovered him back in 2012 — he was a special guest at the Red Hot Chili Peppers concert, the one that brought me back to Istanbul that September.

Did I Let You Know has been one of my favourite songs ever since. I hope it brings Istanbul to you and convinces you to book that airplane ticket to Istanbul so we can check out the islands — Adalar — this autumn. There are a few things I want to show you there.