Last night, I dreamed I was on the Istiklal again. Istiklal, short for Istiklal Caddesi (Iz-tee-klal je-de-suh), is the main street of Istanbul’s Beyoglu district in the European side of the city.
In my dream I was walking with thousands of other pedestrians on this vehicle-free runway, walking with the men with their pushcarts carrying produce to nearby neighborhoods and vendors selling roasted chestnuts, borek and bagels on the streets.
Musicians played and young girls were looking for shoes at Nine West. Great bookstores still line the Iztiklal, and if you go further west, there begins a neighborhood where nothing but musical instruments are sold. The air was filled with smoke and fresh breeze from the Bosphorus. Families, students, people on their way to and from work: the street was bustling, determined and peaceful.
I embraced Istanbul, a 2,700 year old city whose culture and contributions are deeply imbedded in the history of European and Asian civilizations. It’s a crossroads city, with a variety of people, tastes, ideas, love of knowledge and traditions that with time and tolerance has mellowed into an empire that has faded but never died. But of all the foods, customs, ideas and concepts that were native to Istanbul and all of Turkey there was one idea, one concept that seemed to wind its way around the city, layer itself deep into its heart and ultimately touch mine. The concept was imece.