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#2: Meeting Mr. Ramazan and the best views of Ayasofya

By 2:23 p.m.

The funniest and most memorable situations happen mostly thanks to coincidences. As what occured to me on the next best travel moment of this list.

#2 goes to meeting Mr. Ramazan at the Valide Sultan Hotel in Istanbul's Historic Peninsula. To explain you how this happened, I must go back to when I asked Altuğ (the hostel owner) about places where I could see the most splendid views of Ayasofya and the Blue Mosque.

I told him I had heard and read about pictures taken from the rooftops of the Grand Bazaar with lovely views of the minarets and domes of Nuruosmaniye mosque, but he quickly suggested I should visit an old friend whom he met while working in a hotel in Sultanahmet. He wrote down the name of the place and the name of his friend on my map and told me I should definitely pay a visit to him.

It was almost 4 o'clock and we had already seen so much during that day: we spent the whole morning exploring Çukurcuma, then we went to Galata, and last but not least, the Cistern Basilica in Sultanahmet, close to Ayasofya and the Blue Mosque.

Since we were already in the neighbourhood, I started looking for the hotel without even knowing the exact address.

After 20 minutes of walking around, we finally found the Valide Sultan right where Altuğ said it would be. The wooden edifice was strategically located on a corner with impressive views of the Bosphorus and Ayasofya, and I supposed it was very visited because of its location within Istanbul's most touristic area.

When we entered the lobby, there was just a boy at the reception who didn't seem to notice us, the new guests in the house. He kept doing his thing without raising his sight, so we immediately took the lift after saying Merhaba.

The restaurant on the last floor was deserted: no one was at the bar and there was no waiter to be seen. But the minute I walked out and saw the view from the balcony, I knew I wanted to stay. We waited for someone to come. However, no one appeared. So we stood up and decided to leave the hotel. We were actually so thirsty that we didn't want to wait for a long time.

On our way to the stairs, an old man came out of nowhere and took the lift with us. He seemed very busy and was carrying a kitchen cloth on one of his shoulders. The three of us entered the lift and I don't know how or why, but the following just happened.
"Are you by any chance Mr. Ramazan?", I asked.
He smiled and seemed very surprised.
"Yes, that's me. How do you know me?".
"We have a friend in common", I said.

We sat at a table on the terrace of the ground floor with him. He took care of our thirst by serving us  turkish coffee and tea. We also got to say hi to the hotel owners, who were sitting at the table next to ours.

During our conversation, I told him about how I wanted to come to the hotel and take some pictures of Ayasofya. Ramazan immediately took our cups upstairs to the restaurant and he again sat down with us and we engaged in a nice conversation with the best of views.

Turkish coffee with the best view ever!

 After several cups of coffee and tea, he told us about his origins and the reason why he decided to come to Istanbul. Born in a town on the Black Sea, he came to this city to make more money for his son. He also confessed that he was longing to go back to his hometown.

I wanted to give him something for the coffee and the tea, but he refused to take it.

It is during these moments that you learn more about a city and its people, rather than reading it somewhere.

In his wrinkled and peaceful face, I saw the face of men and women who have left their homes in order to improve their living conditions. But I also saw in his eyes that no matter where you go, you always take the love for your home and your family in your heart.

 It wasn't the view at all, it was his company what made this moment so unforgettable...


Ramazan and me.
The countdown is almost over! Check out SpiegelEye travel blog tomorrow for the best travel moment of this year!

Astrid.

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Contact: astrid_14893@hotmail.com
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