Imagine Turkey:

Turkish evil eyes hanging on every wall and possible space: blue and yellow and white circles, black in the middle, staring down, targeting your wrong inclinations and silly thoughts. Children playing with little regard to the world around them, recognizing the fun and playful elements but none of the bad. Houses aligned along the hillside, packed together so tightly they look like steps heading up the steep formation of earth. Fish smell. Mosques, with their pointy grey towers, remaining visible from every location in the city, seeming uncountable. Deep blue water, rich with color, lines the banks of both Europe and Asia. Smile exchanges. Pigeons, seagulls, stray cats and dogs (and wanting to take home the kittens). Calls and odd attention from salesmen, peddling the latest perfume, cowboy hats, corn. Restaurant workers inviting you in. Merhaba! Hello! The Grand Bazaar, flooded with people and colors, gifts, delights, teen boys recruiting you to be their next stunning American customer. Being ripped off because, oh yeah, I don’t know better. Turkish tea, served in those little Turkish tea glasses with womanly curves, two sugar cubes and a tiny spoon. Mint hookah and the way the thick smoke lifts out of my mouth. Smooth raki with the taste of earth-like licorice, one part water, letting it sit in my mouth as I convince myself to swallow it. Cobblestone pathways. Flags, translucent in the sun, blowing proud in the wind. 5 AM call to prayer. A delightful Turkish hum in crowded places. Finding restaurants, not eateries. Smiling. Loving.