I woke up way before the rest of the city did. (Jet lag will do that, I guess.) I wandered around the old part of the Istanbul and grabbed a few Turkish coffees (because, obviously, I should.) Shopkeepers opened up, preparing for the day. And cats rose form their late-night safe spaces.

Finally, when the mosques opened, I walked in, taking off my shoes as I'd been instructed to do.

And I looked up.

The architecture of the Blue Mosque and the peace and the welcoming nature of everyone involved drew me in. And the ancient attention to ornate detail kept my eyes lifted, never wanting to move my gaze.

I moved across the open space to the Hagia Sophia, the Byzantine cathedral-turned-mosque that has captured history's attention for over 1,500 years.

I walked across the remnants of the Hippodrome, an ancient chariot-racing stadium that used to hold upwards of 100,000 people. (Now, it's a lovely cobblestone walkway with delicious street food, but the Egyptian obelisk that racers used to circle still stands.)

The Topkapi Palace captured my attention for a while. The ornate chambers and thrones seemed otherworldly, a city within a city. After looking at the royal jewels and various Muslim relics, I stood on a balcony of the old palace, my feet planted in Europe while I looked at Asia across the water.

After descending into a Roman water cistern, I caught a couple kebabs at a stand nearby, and then continued my walk through the more populated section of the downtown area. I maneuvered my way through the Grand Bazaar, drinking more coffee at a place that had served coffee and tea for centuries. And then, I kept going, searching for the famed Egyptian Bazaar (named a long time ago for its Egyptian spices, or something).

I couldn't find it.

I wove my way through this maze of shops and stands and people until I finally exited the narrow alleyways and looked back, realizing I'd been wandering through the Egyptian Bazaar the entire time. (Nice tourist move.)

I walked up another hill and entered an old mosque that resembled the Blue Mosque with less people and a panoramic view.

After getting another coffee, I stopped at a Muslim diner and ate a spicy wrap full of something really good. (No idea what I ordered, but I loved it.)

I caught a quick nap, and then went to find a nearby performance from Whirling Dervishes, a sect of Sufi Muslims who spun in circles for an hour as a form mediation.

Grabbing some late-night tea, I walked by hundreds of mopeds parked on cobblestone and climbed the stairs back to the hotel to rest before the next step on my journey, where a taxi would drive me through an ancient Roman aquaduct that had become just another piece of a city that had grown and developed and sustained wave after wave of history and change.