Istanbul was immediate sensory overload. The humid air of the city hangs heavy with a myriad of tastes, smells and textures. After settling in and orienting myself in the oldest part of the city, the Sultanahmet, I set off for the Spice Bazaar. Located adjacent to the New Mosque, it is a bustling neighborhood of locals mingling and shopping. The colors and scents of the spices was intoxicating.
The culture of tea in Istanbul seems essential to their way of life. The traditional black tea is very strong, so it is served in small, tulip shaped glasses. Throughout the city, both Old and New, Eastern and Western, there are tea runners, serving tea to shoppers, business owners, and anyone else just hanging out. Some runners carried the tea on trays, cups already poured, and the deftly navigated the busy streets, other times, I saw boys running between the pedestrians carrying huge, steaming Samovars, to take refills to patrons. Generally it was always men drinking the tea. They sat together, squatting in a doorway, sipping, gossiping and just taking a break from the day. But everywhere I went, there were little cups and saucers left for the runners to collect, delicate glass and porcelain left among the millions of feet on the ancient pavement.
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