Galata Bridge, Istanbul Your feet in Europe, your eyes on Asia, the only border is the ocean-blue Bosporus.
just a glimpse, stay tuned for more to explore · MilesAstray unfolds in retrospect. I was living these stories full time, now I’m penning them down. Head over to the countries page for the latest places/stories.
glimpse: TRRROIA | It sounded something like “Trrroia” when my Turkish bunk bed neighbor in Istanbul gave me a travel suggestion. Our conversations were pleasant, but never made it too far past smiles and the mutual understanding of Raki and cigarettes; right now, I had no clue what he was saying, but it was evident by his incomprehension of my incomprehension that “Trrroia" was of some significance. When it dawned on me, he had rewritten history in my mind with only one unintelligible word: Troy was no longer a faint myth of the Iliad, but an actual, firm place and its ruins were just waiting for me to be their witness. I found the Hollywood horsie parked along the seafront of nearby Canakkale – maybe somebody should look that gift horse in the mouth.
glimpse: "ADVENTURE" | For many the premise of travel is “adventure”, may that be in form of “adventure” activities or by defining travel in itself as synonymous with “adventure”. Yet, maybe “adventure” is simply the most overused word in the travel industry. Cambridge defines an adventure foremost as an unusual activity, while Merriam Webster mentions unknown risks. Fair enough, I am cherry picking my favorite definition, but isn’t that the quintessence of real adventures (the ones without quotation marks)? At least to me it was since childhood days. It was exploring the unknown, without a path, a map, let alone GPS or my parents’ consent– venturing into a forest, following a little creek, roaming through corn fields and mines. This picture captures the moment I spotted a little village chiseled out of rock in the far distance, while marveling at the otherworldly landscape of Turkey’s Cappadocia region. It was right there and then that some boyish explorer instinct kicked in to shove me towards the unknown that pulled me in simultaneously. And so I ditched the map and the hiking paths with their stringent signposts and rules to set off and find my own way, my only compass being the afar village. I had no idea how far it was, whether I could overcome the looming canyons in-between and make it there before nightfall, or where I would take it from there; but isn’t that what an adventure is all about?
And then, the sun painted.
Galata Tower, Istanbul
places / stories
Cappadocia / Little Moments of Trailblazing in a Charted World
yet to be written
Istanbul / The Small Things
yet to be written
Troy / You, Here?
yet to be written
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