People I’ve met along the way

Travelling alone and in no hurry at all. We sat in the courtyard until the call to prayer, and she asked better questions than most groups do.

They arrived looking for the Istanbul they had seen in photographs. By the end of the day they were asking about the Istanbul that people here actually live in.

We started early, before the coaches, and finished with tea on a step because neither of them wanted to sit down properly yet.

A rainy afternoon in Istanbul. We took the public ferry anyway and had most of the deck to ourselves.

A morning with no monument on the list at all. We walked the hills of Balat, stopped twice for tea, and they photographed more doorways than anything else.

A long layover turned into a whole day on Büyükada, which is the best accident a traveller can have here. No cars, one hill, and a ferry home at dusk.

Three generations, one market, and a grandmother who wanted the Turkish name of every single thing on every single stall. We did not finish the street.

The balloons did not fly — the wind says no about one morning in five, and no guide can promise otherwise. So we walked the Ihlara valley instead, along the river, and nobody minded.

They had been reading about the Library of Celsus for twenty years. It is smaller than the photographs and better than them, which is the usual way with Ephesus.