Sunrise in Istanbul (or, Lonliness)

I booked myself a 20 hour layover in Istanbul.

Why?

Why not.

I’ve been feeling lonely, and I was overdue for a good ol’ solo adventure.

Loneliness is strange. It comes in different forms.

For example, I think I’m a bit regretful that I didn’t get to spend more time with friends in New York before leaving. Again.

That, and the act of listening to “Please Please Please” ad nauseum this past week, recalling the excitement and anxious thrill of loving someone like Sabrina (supposedly) loves Barry.

Yeah. A combination of those things and wandering around a completely new city, completely alone, for hours. And hours. And hours.

It felt like Before Sunrise, but no. No enchanting stranger to be found. It was just me. Deep conversations only with myself. And there wasn’t much going on in the realm of deep thought anyways. It was mostly very quiet — both in my head and out in the world.

The silence was particularly loud during the hours of 4-6 when everything was closed and I sat in a park, then enjoyed the first light of day over the Bosphorus from the Galata Bridge, and finally, watched the sun rise over two continents from Suleymaniye Mosque.

It was beautiful.

And there’s something about a beautiful sunrise that makes a person very much aware of the present moment. Of how alone they are in our big, big world.

But I love this shit! Exploring a new city on my own is one of my favorite things in the world. I do what I want, how I want, when I want it. I truly love being with myself in this context.

But I don’t know. Something about that sunrise got me. I really wanted to share it with someone.

—

It’s said time and time again that there is a difference between being lonely, and being alone.

This is particularly poignant when it comes to traveling solo — the mere idea of which sends some into a spiral. 

Probably the question I get asked most is if I ever feel lonely.

And the answer is yes, sometimes I do. 

But it never lasts. Because I’m never really alone.

Shortly after sunrise, I wandered downhill through empty streets until I came across a börek shop, newly opened for the day, the smell of fresh pastry filling the air.

Big yes.

I ordered the spinach — ultimately a questionable choice as unlike American börek, the inclusion of cheese is not a given — but it was still some beautiful pastry. I digress.

I sat eating with a group of taxi drivers, getting ready to begin their day. The man at the table next to me was with his wife, or girlfriend. At one point, she rose from her seat to get a few napkins, sat down, and without saying a word, turned and handed me one.

We had not made eye contact until that moment. If sharing fresh pastries and tea on the street with strangers doesn’t make a girl feel a part of something… what does?

The point is that I make new friends, or at least have meaningful interactions, on a regular basis. The loneliness never lasts.

Sometimes, especially after long stints in hostels, my social battery is drained to the core and I’m dying to be alone.

(The flip side of this is something we all also know to be true. Anyone can feel lonely surrounded by people, too.)

—

I once heard that when you look in the mirror, you should see your best friend. And I’ve never felt this to be more true. Even on those days when I’m not feeling my best, I am always rooting for the girl in the mirror. 

If there is one thing I’ve learned from traveling solo (combined with two beautiful years of being single, mind you) — it is how to be my own best friend.

So beyond the friends and strangers whose paths I cross, most significant is that thing I’ve really gotten a feel for: how to keep my own company, even in solitude. How to truly be with my self.

It is not always easy. But it is a gift. 

And still. A quiet sunrise in an unfamiliar place can make a girl feel isolated, and that’s okay. We’re allowed to feel lonely.

All while remembering that the girl in the mirror is there, too.

ONWARDS,

Mag