A Scene


The air is thick like tomato soup. As you exit the airport, you are hit with the fanfare of taxi drivers whistling and pressing on their horn as they try to grab your custom. In the early hours of the morning, the exterior of the airport is still very much alive but the unlucky tourist who decides to take the train to his hotel is in for a nasty surprise when he sees the shutters coming down at exactly 12 am.

The air is thick like tomato soup. As you exit the airport, you are hit with the fanfare of taxi drivers whistling and pressing on their horn as they try to grab your custom. In the early hours of the morning, the exterior of the airport is still very much alive but the unlucky tourist who decides to take the train to his hotel is in for a nasty surprise when he sees the shutters coming down at exactly 12 am.

It is at this moment that he must use his bargaining skills for the first time in his journey as he haggles with taxi drivers over who will rip him off for the least amount. The humidity at night is a blanket of warm uncomfortable air, providing a taste of what is to come when the sun rises the next morning. Jeans are a waste of time in this place, as are any other types of tight clothing. The sky gleams a deep purple and if one looks closely, a layer of fog or pollution can be determined just above. Whereas the stars were so crystal clear during the flight to the city, now they are all hidden by the millions of glowing lamps of Istanbul.

Istanbul. A city brimming with immense history. That is where I find myself today.

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10 thoughts on “A Scene

  1. This post was perfect; the description boasted…(yay I get to use my favourite word here πŸ˜€ ) elegance.
    Best line was the very first sentence, methinks. πŸ™‚

    Like

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