Terror in Istanbul Can’t Be Real


It’s been less than a month since I left Istanbul, the city that these days is probably considered as one of the most dangerous civilized places to be.

I was hich-hiking in my safe home country Estonia with my best friend when a male voice from the radio announced about the horror. We exchanged looks and the news immediately got me thinking how I’m here, sitting in a car with decent driver, travel around, surrounded by peaceful nature, and know nothing about accidents taking place further away.

However, thinking about my own experience in that busy city, it doesn’t matter if or what I know, it’s still difficult to believe that this place is hiding such terror. As if every TV channel, radio station and news programme were led by an evil corruption that’s aiming to make negative influence.

Istanbul throuh my eyes is completely different from that bowelless monster that appears again with striking news every now and then. But I know that it ain’t fair to think that the fact that I have no problem doesn’t mean that there is non.

Two days after my flight from Istanbul happened another terror attac. Back at home I unpacked my guardian angels that must have felt tight following me throughout the journey. I remember walking along Istiklal street where four innocent souls were sacrificed in March.

“Could these stones under my feet have been covered with blood?” I thought.

I was staring around and admired at corpulent capitalism behind the windows. It was like a meeting point for traders from different corners of the world. I tend to think that the caravans that passed Istanbul centuries ago never really left, bringing all kinds of cultures together. Due that, Istanbul gives an impression of the centre of the universe.

Where ever I ended up, I couldn’t avoid drawing parallels with different countries and continents. I sensed Japan in old water storage Yerebatan. Experienced French tavern in an underground wine cellar near Galata tower. And recognised Telliskivi food district (Estonia) in Kadıköy’s cafes.

Istanbul has a surprise after every turn – no need to search for magic, it comes to you itself.

I wonder how many dead bodies does it take to start praying for places like Istanbul. The kind of places that so desperately want to shock people with its’ history, richness, details and beauty, but now have the smell of fear. I will be avare of the dark side, watch out for dangerous devils, but choose to carry the magical memories of Istanbul. So let’s pray for Turkey, pray for the world.


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