Traveling Solo in Istanbul

As the plane taxis down the runway, blanketed in the dying light of early evening, I feel acutely aware that I am traveling alone. This simple fact hits me harder than I expected, filling me with nerves I haven’t had to contend with in a long time.

I sit with the unease, letting my mind wander until it settles on the reminder that I am comfortable traveling alone, confident even, in my ability to figure things out and enjoy myself in the process.

There is still the fact that I’m a young Black woman traveling on her own, so I’ll have to turn up my situational awareness: double-check that I’m sharing my location with a loved one, keep my ears open, and stay alert in my Uber. But I’m not concerned about my safety, or I wouldn’t be here at all.

The seat belt sign goes off, and people fill the aisles, even though many of them will be standing for minutes before it’s their turn to disembark. I turn on my phone to pass the time and see a message notification from my friend Salem. I tap it open to respond, telling her I’ve landed in Istanbul. “One night in Turkey just feels romantic…” she writes back. And the one-liner makes me smile, because 1) I appreciate her dreamier perspective, and 2) that’s exactly how I want to feel.

Streetlights and silvery skyscrapers twinkle against the black of night as we speed down the freeway toward Bayrampasa on the European side of the city. My face is pressed to the window, and I keep it there the entire drive, wanting to notice as much as I can. There’s an openness I feel when I’m in a new place — a willingness to learn what I don’t know, a curiosity about how it will make me feel, and about what I will remember.

I’m still in a whimsical mood when I arrive at the Wishmore Hotel, so I think I’ll take myself out to dinner along the Bosphorus, the strait that splits Istanbul into two continents; part-Europe, part-Asia. But by the time I reach my room, I’m fighting to keep my eyes open. So I opt for a quick bite near the hotel and hurry back for a hot shower before bed.

The next morning, I wake up before my alarm, opening my eyes to a pale, overcast sky streaked with orange. A muezzin call echoes from a nearby mosque, interrupting the silence. I lie still for a moment, listening, and then whisper a prayer before peeling myself out of bed.

When I arrive at the breakfast buffet, the spread is extensive: Turkish coffee, strong and dark; eggs three ways; an array of Greek yoghurt options; six different cheeses; three kinds of olives; a bakery’s worth of breads and pastries; and honey, still dripping from the comb. I gather a smorgasbord of bites at my table and people-watch as daylight breaks over the city.

My Uber driver arrives in a yellow taxi to take me toward Sultanahmet Square. Here, the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque sit across from each other in a lush green park with a circular stone fountain at its center.

My intention is a quiet stroll through the square before the attractions open. But a man I’d noticed approaching, one I didn’t expect to stop, falls into step beside me. I bristle, then recover, not wanting to look scared to a stranger. “Don’t worry, I’m not a guide,” he says, either noticing my discomfort or rattling off a script. “I just want to sell you a carpet.”

I exhale. He’s just a salesman. This I can handle. I politely decline, walking away to make my point, but he’s not the only one; others seem to appear out of nowhere, as if summoned to my exact location. I have to say no to three of these men, all repeating the same script, until I lose them through the doors of the Hagia Sophia.

Inside, footsteps shuffle quietly around me, and guides speak in hushed tones to huddled groups, narrating the history behind the thousand-year-old gilded walls and peeling mosaics that cover the vaulted ceilings. The sheer scale of it is overwhelming. What did it cost to build this, I wonder. And I’m not only thinking in money.

The exit leads me back out to Sultanahmet Square, now brimming with people sitting around the water fountain, buying breakfast from bright red food carts dotted around the perimeter, and likely being approached by more carpet merchants.

I cross the plaza to visit the Blue Mosque, drawn in by the striking blue domes that give it its name and the triangle-tipped minarets rising from its corners. The line to get in is just shy of discouraging, but it moves quickly, and soon I’m at the entrance, taking off my shoes to walk into the main prayer room.

It’s beautiful here: airy and softly lit by daylight filtering through stained glass windows and hundreds of tiny lightbulbs hanging from metal bars suspended from the ceiling. I spin around in a slow circle, admiring the patterns on the walls and domed ceiling; swirling painted shapes in deep reds and blues, alternating with clusters of golden calligraphy, a stunning blend of art and architecture.

My final stop for the day is at the Spice Bazaar in Eminönü, a sprawling marketplace packed with vendors displaying their offerings in an array of colors outside their stalls: loose-leaf teas promising both romantic and health benefits, Turkish candies and coffees, printed scarves, and painted ceramics.

“This is the store you’re looking for.” “Good morning, lady.” “Let me show you something.” The onslaught of requests is par for the course in a place like this, so I smile and shake my head “no” as I make my way through the length of the building, mostly window shopping. I pick up some loose-leaf tea and a set of scarves, one for me and one for my sister. Even as I turn to walk back the same way, vendors call out to me again, hoping for a sale, and I laugh to myself, wondering where I’d even put it all if I bought something from everyone who asked.

Good to Know

How I got there: Turkish Airlines operates a direct flight from San Francisco to Istanbul.

Accommodation: I stayed at the Wishmore Bayrampasa, courtesy of Turkish Airlines via the TourIstanbul/Stopover Istanbul program. If you have a long layover (12+hrs), you’re offered a covered stay.

Getting Around: I walked and took Ubers. All my Ubers were classic yellow taxi cabs.

Food: Turkish food is delicious. I didn’t get to experience as much as I wanted to, but what I did have was memorable — from Turkish coffee to döner kebab to the breads, soft cheeses and desserts.

Things that stressed me out: Carpet Salesmen: I’m usually okay with people soliciting business, because I can say no and shake them off, but these men were adamant. And as a woman traveling alone, I found it uncomfortable to have that many men approach me. Cigarette Smoke: The number of times I found myself walking through clouds of cigarette smoke was truly culture shock for me.

For more solo travel diaries, you can read my stories from Laos starting here.

As always,

Thank you for reading!

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Same Footprints, Different Sands