3 Days in Istanbul: Notes from My Journey
Written by Elena Martin — Spain | 15 September 2025
I had three days in Istanbul on this visit. It was not enough to know the whole city, but it gave me memories I still associate with its streets: a coffee cup bought after a conversation, tea on a ferry and the colours above Galata Bridge. These are notes from my own journey.
Day 1: Sultanahmet, the Grand Bazaar and Galata
I reached Sultanahmet Square early, while there were still only a few visitors. I paused outside Hagia Sophia before entering. The dim light and mosaics held my attention; for a few minutes I closed my eyes and let the room settle around me. Across the square, I removed my shoes at the Blue Mosque and watched sunlight fall on the blue tiles. They reminded me of the palaces in childhood stories.
At the Grand Bazaar, silk shawls, copper coffee pots and voices drew me through the narrow lanes. A shopkeeper told me that his father had owned the shop and that he had grown up there. I bought a small coffee cup to remember our conversation. Later, over Turkish coffee in a tucked-away café, I watched an older man with his nargile and children playing nearby.
I walked towards Galata through streets of cafés and musicians. By the time I reached the tower, the sun was setting. I did not go up: sitting nearby beneath the circling gulls and watching the gold and red sky was enough.
Dinner was in a small fish restaurant in Karaköy. Two students at the next table were discussing their first Istanbul trip. I ordered fish, salad and a cold beer, watching the busy street through the window. Back at the hotel, I was tired, but the day’s light, smells and conversations stayed with me.
Day 2: Across the Bosphorus and back
In Eminönü I bought a warm simit and tea before boarding the ferry to Üsküdar. Gulls followed the boat and caught the pieces I tossed towards them. The horn, salt air and steam from my tea made up my morning. In Üsküdar I sat by the water with the Maiden’s Tower in view, watching fishermen and walkers against the European shore.
I continued on foot to Kuzguncuk. Its coloured wooden houses, climbing plants and small cafés felt different from the places I had visited the day before. An older woman smiled and told me that the neighbourhood had changed but was still peaceful. Lunch was in a garden shaded by fig trees: olive-oil dishes, warm bread and fresh lemonade, with children and neighbours talking around me.
After Kuzguncuk I crossed back to Beşiktaş and visited Dolmabahçe Palace. Crystal chandeliers, gilded ceilings and large halls made a striking contrast with lunch in the garden. Through the windows, the Bosphorus shone in the afternoon light.
In Ortaköy I bought kumpir, a baked potato filled with toppings, and ate it by the water with the bridge in view. The mosque stood beside the busy square, and nearby young people played guitar and sang.
I finished the evening around Taksim and İstiklal, then stepped into a small meyhane. Meze covered the wooden tables and old Turkish songs played in the background. When I left after midnight, simit and flower sellers were still out. I returned to the hotel smiling through my tiredness.
Day 3: Nişantaşı, contemporary art and Balat
My last morning began in a Nişantaşı café with quiet jazz, orange juice and a warm croissant. A couple worked on laptops at the next table and laughed with the waiter. Watching people pass outside, I enjoyed this different pace of city life.
At Istanbul Modern, large canvases, digital installations and photography gave me another view of Istanbul. Inside was art; beyond the windows, the Bosphorus. I found a welcome moment of calm there.
In Balat, I walked among coloured houses, steps where children played and laundry hanging from balconies. A café owner brought Turkish coffee with lokum and told me that to understand Balat, I needed to sit and listen rather than only photograph it. The voices around me made his point.
Later I returned to Eminönü, passing fishermen and sellers of chestnuts and corn. Cinnamon, cloves and saffron scented the Spice Bazaar. I bought spices and Turkish delight; the little bag of saffron became another reminder of the journey.
At sunset I crossed Galata Bridge once more. The sky was orange and purple behind the mosque silhouettes, and the fishermen were still there. I stopped to listen to gulls, people and water. Three days had not shown me everything. They had given me plenty of reasons to return.
