Day 20, GO HOME DAY!

 

May 6 — Go Home Day

Go home day.

Last shot of Grand Bazaar from yesterday

Tim and I enjoy our last cup of tea at the Niles Rooftop bar, with the Adriatic in the background

I woke up to a text from Marcus asking, “What continent are you on now?” I answered, “Two.” Istanbul really is one of the few places in the world that spans two continents, Europe and Asia. By the end of the day, I’d add a third continent back into the mix as I returned home to North America.

0430 pickup with Rick. Still dark as we crossed the Bosphorus one final time on the way to the airport. Two continents indeed. There was something fitting about leaving a city that literally bridges worlds.

Limo taxi to IST, arriving more than three hours early only to stand in a long baggage check line anyway. International travel always finds a way to humble even seasoned travelers.

Grabbed a breakfast sandwich in Istanbul airport and nearly laughed when it came out to about $15. A fast-food breakfast sandwich. Meanwhile people love to criticize low-cost carriers, but British Airways seemed ready to charge for absolutely everything — Wi-Fi, coffee, probably oxygen if they could meter it. Thankfully, a couple friendly flight attendants took care of an old captain in uniform with a few cups of black coffee. Otherwise it would’ve been £3 each. Funny how people slam Southwest for “no frills,” yet the legacy carriers are right there doing the same thing with a fancier accent.

Today’s transition back to “reality” would happen across nine time zones:

IST–LHR–ORD–MCO.

Security at London Heathrow was completely uptight. Scanning, searching, questioning — and being a crew member had essentially zero impact on any of it. Heathrow was determined to make sure nobody slipped through casually.

While waiting, I happened to meet a British Airways captain headed to Narita. After asking where I was going and hearing “Chicago,” he texted a buddy flying my flight. I’m pretty sure that connection is what got me upgraded from economy to the premium cabin for the 8½-hour flight across the Atlantic. Not a bad break at all.

At one point we took the tram out to a remote stand to board the jet, and I briefly wondered if the same captain might somehow get me all the way up front. No such luck — but the “uniform upgrade” to the better seat was already a huge win. Comfort Plus, Premium Economy, or whatever British Airways calls it, felt pretty luxurious after days of moving nonstop across the Balkans and Turkey.

I kept a running timer all day from Istanbul to Yawl Drive. Travel days like this almost become their own endurance event — airport lines, security, trams, boarding calls, customs, jet lag, and trying to remember what local time even means anymore.

But walking back into a U.S. airport and clearing customs felt oddly comforting. The familiar signs. The familiar procedures. Known Crew Member. The rhythms of the aviation world I’ve spent a lifetime in. After weeks of incredible experiences overseas, there was something reassuring about stepping back into the familiarity of my own “workplace.”

Glad to be home.

Day 19 Balkans: Final day in Istanbul

 Istanbul – Final Day

Even before the sun had fully settled into the skyline this morning, the city was already in motion. Vendors lined the narrow streets, unloading deliveries and setting the stage for another day of commerce. In Istanbul, it seems everyone is selling something, and every corner hums with energy. The street hawkers are of a most aggressive kind. On our walk toward the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, we wandered again, alongside the wonderful bazaar—shops spilling into alleyways, voices calling out, and the constant throng of pedestrians and traffic. Crossing the street felt like a calculated risk; trams glide through without much regard for crossing zones, leaving you to wonder how often close calls turn into something worse.

Reaching the Blue Mosque, officially completed in 1617 under an Ottoman sultan, we paused at the nearby information center for a presentation on Islam. It was surprisingly insightful—touching on the idea of Istanbul as a city spanning two continents, with us firmly planted on the European side. The mosque itself, built to hold around 6,000 worshippers, stands as both a spiritual and architectural centerpiece of the city.

Outside, we noticed the foot-washing stations—an essential part of Islamic practice before prayer. Inside, with our own shoes off, we stepped into a space that was both vast and intricately detailed. The beauty is undeniable: sweeping domes, cascading light, and the signature blue tiles that give the mosque its nickname. The minarets, once climbed by individuals to issue the call to prayer, now carry speakers—a modern evolution of a centuries-old tradition we’d been hearing echo across the city at 5:45 in the morning and again late in the evening.

It was impossible not to reflect on the nearby Hagia Sophia, which we had visited the day before—a structure that has shifted between Christian cathedral and mosque over centuries. Even now, its layered identity is visible, with mosaics of Mary and Jesus respectfully covered during Muslim prayer times.

Inside the Blue Mosque, we struck up a conversation with some friendly British tourists, sharing impressions and travel stories. It was one of those small, unexpected connections that seem to define travel just as much as the landmarks themselves.

Later, we made our way to the Spice Bazaar, which felt more local than the Grand Bazaar—less polished, perhaps, but more authentic. Still, it carried that same chaotic charm: a maze of stalls, vibrant colors, and the constant buzz of negotiation. We drifted deeper into the surrounding bazaar streets, soaking in the atmosphere and picking up a few gifts along the way.

Turkish Street Food outside Grand Bazaar 

In a moment that felt almost scripted, after trying unsuccessfully to reach a local purse shop vendor via WhatsApp, we happened to spot him leaving his shop as he was wrapping up for the day. Tim and I seized the opportunity and finally secured the purses we’d been hunting for—“nice price,” as he assured us—ironically, directly across from our hotel.

The day wound down with a final dinner alongside my fellow travelers at a spot just down the very narrow road, as characterized in Old City Istanbul.  More kebabs, of course—because how could it be anything else? There was a sense of closure in the air, the kind that comes with shared meals and the quiet acknowledgment that a journey is ending.

It would be a short night. A 4:00 a.m. wake-up loomed ahead. But as Istanbul continued to buzz outside, it felt like we were leaving just as we had arrived—caught somewhere between motion, history, and the constant rhythm of a city that never really slows down.

Day 18 Istanbul May 4

 

May 4 – Istanbul

I woke up with a classic case of carb-induced brain fog—courtesy of last night’s pastries—but being the first one up had its rewards. The rooftop restaurant was quiet, almost still, and the view over the Bosporus was spectacular. Merchant ships dotted the channel, queued like patient giants waiting for their turn north into the Black Sea. With a large cup of strong, filtered coffee in hand—my first one in Europe—I eased into the day watching the city come alive.

Our first stop was the Basilica Cistern, an underground marvel that felt equal parts ancient engineering feat and modern-day crowd experiment. Built in the 3rd century, it’s undeniably impressive—rows of columns rising from shallow water in dim, moody light—but it was packed with tourists shoulder to shoulder. The narrow grated walkways turned into a slow shuffle, interrupted every few feet by someone stopping for the perfect selfie. Beautiful, yes—but also a bit of a cattle call.

Next up was the iconic Hagia Sophia.  Trying to enter, we hit a bit of a snag—security delays compounded by a power outage left us stuck outside the security screener longer than expected. Not all bad, though. I ended up chatting with a local tour guide, which turned into one of those unexpectedly interesting travel moments that you don’t plan for but end up remembering.

From there, it was on to the sprawling Grand Bazaar. “A lot” is the simplest way to describe it. Endless corridors, shops overflowing with goods—especially purses—and a clear divide between the local feel outside and the heavily tourist-driven energy inside. It’s massive, a bit overwhelming, but undeniably part of the Istanbul experience.

Greatest news of the day, Rick was able to get his passport reissued in Albania at the Consulate.  He scrambled to get his passport photos taken and get the reissued "emergency" passport, change his flight and meet us in Istanbul.   Being his birthday, it was a great day for all!

We wrapped the day with a high note—dinner at Fine Dine Istanbul, perched atop the Arcadia Hotel. The twilight view over the city was stunning especially the Blue Mosque illuminated with lights and the Bosphouous in the background. It was the perfect setting to celebrate Rick’s birthday—and, in a way, our arrival in Istanbul and clean escape from Albania.

Day 17 Balkans Trip Istanbul

 Istanbul – Tokara Palace & a Rain-Soaked Day in the Old City

The morning began with a climb—five tight flights up a circular staircase inside the vintage charm of the Niles Hotel. Each turn of the stairwell felt like stepping deeper into another era, the walls wrapped in classic Turkish patterns and late Ottoman design touches that made the effort worthwhile. At the top, the rooftop breakfast room opened up to a gray, rain-heavy sky over old Istanbul.

Breakfast itself was a spread of Turkish staples, familiar in ingredients but different in spirit. Thick, tangy yogurt sat alongside fried dough drizzled with tahini, briny olives, and other small plates that felt both rustic and carefully prepared. The surprise win was a simple pot of filtered coffee served in a normal-sized cup—an appreciated change from the high-octane punch of traditional Turkish coffee, typically delivered in thimble-sized portions that demand your full attention.

Stepping outside, the weather made its presence known immediately. Cold, steady rain turned the cobblestone streets slick and reflective. Raincoats and umbrellas weren’t optional—they were survival gear. The old city market area, usually buzzing with color and energy, felt muted under the downpour—still alive, just quieter, like the city had taken a slower breath.

The visit to Topkapi Palace carried that same subdued intensity. Once the seat of Ottoman power, it’s hard not to reflect on the long arc of history shaped here—the sultanate system itself endured for roughly six centuries, from the late 1200s until its abolition in 1922. Walking through the Harem, the stories grow heavier: eunuchs guarding the inner sanctum, concubines navigating palace life, and a system built on strict hierarchy and control.

Inside the Holy Relics room, the atmosphere shifted again—quieter, reverent. Among the artifacts are strands believed to be from the beard of the Prophet Muhammad, a detail that gives the space a deep spiritual weight, regardless of one’s background.

Even on a cold, rainy day, the crowds were thick—a slow-moving “cattle call” through narrow passageways and exhibit rooms. It’s hard to imagine what this place must feel like in peak season under blue skies.

Later, we ducked into the legendary Lale Restaurant (Pudding Shop) for gyros. Warm, soft bread wrapped around flavorful meat—simple, satisfying, and exactly what was needed after hours in the cold.

The day took a personal turn in the afternoon. Kurt’s cousin Ollie met us at the Niles Hotel, and we piled into a cab for the long ride across the city and over to the Asian side. Istanbul traffic did its usual thing—stretching time—but eventually we arrived at Kurt’s aunt’s home. What followed was a generous and memorable spread: pastry upon pastry, followed by baklava and tea. The language barrier presented its moments, but hospitality doesn’t need translation. His family was warm, welcoming, and clearly happy to have us.

The return trip was its own adventure—this time through the tunnel beneath the Bosphorus. Our driver approached traffic laws more as suggestions than rules, including a few bold red-light decisions. Somehow, without incident, we made it back to the hotel intact—cold, tired, and with a story or two richer from the day.

Day 16 Balkans Trip May 2

 May 2 — From Tirana to Istanbul: A Travel Day of Contrasts

The morning started abruptly—no lingering over coffee, no breakfast buffet—just a quick wake-up and a cab ride to Tirana International Airport Nënë Tereza. It felt like we were leaving Albania as quickly as we had come to appreciate it.

I once again donned my airline “uniform”—what Tricia Tezel has affectionately dubbed my “cute little outfit.” Jokes aside, it continues to work like a charm. There’s a subtle but noticeable shift in how airline staff interact—just enough to smooth the edges of travel day friction.

We left Rick behind, unfortunately, trusting he’d be able to secure an emergency passport and catch up soon. Not the kind of split you plan for, but travel has a way of writing its own script.

Our flight on AJet was short—just about an hour and twenty-five minutes—but the descent into Istanbul made it feel monumental. As we approached Sabiha Gökçen International Airport (SAW), the sheer scale of the city came into view. Massive shipping ports stretched along the water, packed with vessels, while clusters of red-tiled rooftops filled the landscape inland. It’s a place that doesn’t just hint at history—it radiates it, layered over thousands of years.

Before takeoff, there was a brief bit of airport drama—a passenger trying to board the bus to the plane ran into ticketing issues, causing a small commotion. It was resolved, but added a little unexpected tension to an otherwise smooth departure.

Thanks again to the “uniform,”  I ended up in the front row, extended legroom with Kurt —a small but meaningful win on a travel day.

Arrival in Turkey brought another moment of suspense. I went through the standard passport line, but the border agent paused, looked at my passport then me in uniform, and then made a call. A few seconds stretched longer than usual—then came that unmistakable, satisfying thump of the entry stamp. Cleared. Seems like there is a different line for “Crew” and it momentarily confused this officer.  

Waiting for us just beyond arrivals were Kurt’s cousin and her husband, along with a black limo van that felt like a significant upgrade from our earlier taxi. From the airport, we made our way into the historic heart of the city—the old town of Istanbul.

The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Narrow cobblestone streets, tightly packed buildings, and traffic that seemed to operate on negotiation rather than rules. At one point, we found ourselves nose-to-nose with another car on a one-lane street—someone had to back up, and it wasn’t entirely clear who would blink first.

The weather carried a cool spring edge—borderline cold—but perfect for walking. As we explored, the city revealed itself through its skyline of mosques, their minarets rising above everything else. The call to prayer echoed across the streets, broadcast throughout the city in a way that felt both ancient and alive.

We checked into the Nile Hotel, dropped our bags, and headed straight out again. First stop: the bustling Grand Bazaar, a maze of color, texture, and energy. From there, we found a local kebab spot—simple, satisfying, and exactly what we needed after a long day of movement.

We wrapped up the evening with strong Turkish coffee and wandered the old city streets as night settled in. The day closed quietly, back at the hotel lobby, with a piece of baklava in hand—sweet, rich, and well-earned.

From missed breakfasts to midnight pastries, it was a travel day that delivered exactly what it should: movement, moments, and a memorable arrival into a city that already feels larger than life.

Day 15 Balkans May 1

 May 1

Tirana, Albania — A Day Between Shadows and Renewal

The day began early, as most good travel days do. I slipped into the hotel gym for a quick workout—“quick” being the operative word, given the modest selection of equipment. Still, it did the job. What the gym lacked, the breakfast buffet more than made up for. It was one of those spreads that reminds you Europe takes its mornings seriously: fresh breads, fruit, eggs, bacon and strong coffee—the kind of start that sets the tone for a full day ahead.

Just a couple of blocks from the Wagner Hotel stood our first destination: the striking and unusual Pyramid of Tirana. Recently renovated, the structure now feels more like a symbol of transformation than of its origins. It was originally built as a mausoleum for Albania’s authoritarian leader, Enver Hoxha—a man whose regime left deep scars across the country. The pyramid itself had been damaged during the rebellion that followed the collapse of his rule, making its modern rebirth all the more symbolic of a country reshaping its identity.

From there, we descended—both physically and historically—into Bunk’Art 2. This museum is housed in one of the staggering 170,000 bunkers constructed during Hoxha’s regime. Walking through it felt less like a museum visit and more like stepping into the psyche of a nation gripped by paranoia. The tunnels and rooms told the story of a government obsessed with control, where fear of external enemies justified internal oppression. Surveillance was constant, carried out by a secret police force reminiscent of the Stasi of East Berlin—and in some ways, even more pervasive. Albania’s version of communism was uniquely harsh, isolated even from the Soviet sphere, and brutally enforced.

Later in the afternoon, the tone shifted as we wandered into a local bike shop and met its owner, Dennis. His story—and those of others we met—brought the history we’d just learned into sharp, human focus. Dennis had learned English by listening to rap music. Others told us they picked it up through Netflix. These weren’t just anecdotes—they were reminders of how recently Albania opened to the world. Dennis mentioned he hadn’t even seen a banana until 1992. It’s hard to process that kind of isolation in today’s hyper-connected world.

After lunch, we set out on a bike tour with our guide, Stevie—named, fittingly, after Stevie Wonder. Following the fall of Hoxha’s regime, many Albanian parents gave their children names inspired by American culture, a small but telling sign of newfound openness and aspiration.

The ride lasted about three and a half hours and offered a deeper look at Tirana than we’d seen the day before. We cycled through the city’s vibrant streets and out toward the peaceful expanse of the Grand Park of Tirana, circling the lake that serves as a kind of communal heartbeat for the city. Along the way, one thing became clear: Tirana takes pride in its architecture. From bold, colorful buildings to stark remnants of its past, the city tells its story visually and unapologetically.

After dinner, however, the day took an unexpected turn. Our travel companion Rick realized his passport was missing—lost or possibly stolen. What followed was a scramble that shifted us from sightseeing to problem-solving. Fortunately, help wasn’t far away. The Embassy of the United States, Tirana and a nearby police station became our next stops, thanks in large part to a hotel attendant who went above and beyond, personally driving us to get the process started.

In a strange twist of coincidence, the attendant’s last name was Hoxha—a name tied so heavily to the country’s past, now helping us navigate a very modern travel mishap.

It was a chaotic end to a day that had otherwise been reflective, educational, and surprisingly uplifting. Albania is a place where history isn’t just remembered—it’s lived, discussed, and, increasingly, transformed.

Day 14 Balkans Trip Tiranë, Albania Food Tour

 April 30 – Tiranë, Albania

The day began under a blanket of gray—low, heavy clouds hinting at what was to come. Springlike temperatures made it feel inviting enough, but the air carried that unmistakable promise of rain. And sure enough, it didn’t take long before the skies delivered.

After the familiar comfort of a hotel buffet breakfast, and a quick weight workout, we set out into the city, stepping into what quickly revealed itself as an architectural surprise. Tiranë doesn’t ease you in—it contrasts itself boldly. Our first stop was the striking Pyramid of Tirana, a relic of a different era that still feels oddly futuristic. Once a monument to a repressive regime, it now stands reimagined—part ruin, part symbol of reinvention.

From there, it became clear: this is a modern city… mostly. The layers are impossible to ignore. Ottoman influences, stark communist blocks, and sleek contemporary designs all compete—and somehow coexist—within the same skyline.

And then, the rain finally came . Ponchos went on, umbrellas popped open, and the adventure continued. We met our guide, Markel, near the Twin Towers of Tirana, kicking off a food tour that would turn out to be as much about history as it was about flavor.

Markel didn’t sugarcoat Albania’s past. Under the rule of Enver Hoxha, the country was often dubbed the “North Korea of Europe.” It was a time of deep isolation and fear—where attempting to leave the country could mean death, and even possessing certain foreign or religious items could carry severe consequences. No prayers or religion was allowed in this Aethist only country.Buildings from that era, often limited in height and stark in design, still stand as reminders of that controlled, closed-off world.

And yet, resilience defines this place. Between 1991 and 1993, nearly half the country’s men left Albania in search of work abroad, sending money home and helping rebuild the nation from the outside in. That legacy still echoes in today’s economy and culture.

We wandered through bustling markets filled with everything from fresh fruit and nuts—sampled on this food tour—to rows of knockoff goods that gave the area a gritty, entrepreneurial edge. The city itself felt alive with color, from painted apartment blocks to unexpected artistic flourishes,  the result of an artist turned mayor!

Another architectural standout rose above the skyline—impossible to ignore and even harder to forget. The Skanderbeg Tower isn’t just a modern high-rise; it’s a piece of storytelling built in glass and concrete. Its undulating, wave-like balconies aren’t merely stylistic—they’re deliberate. From the right vantage point, the building forms the unmistakable side profile of Gjergj Kastrioti Skanderbeg.

What looks at first like fluid, contemporary design reveals itself as something far more symbolic. The contours of the façade trace his helmeted head and facial features, turning the entire structure into a quiet but powerful tribute. It’s not an added feature or decorative façade—it’s embedded in the architecture itself.

The food told its own story. We were introduced to byrek, Albania’s beloved savory pastry—flaky, rich, and filled with anything from cheese to spinach or meat. It’s not just eaten; it’s a daily ritual, often grabbed on the go, folded into paper, and enjoyed as a quick, satisfying bite.

Later, at a traditional restaurant, we sampled a slow-cooked dish known as tavë—a hearty, clay-baked meal that felt like the Albanian answer to comfort food. Simple ingredients, deeply flavorful, and clearly rooted in tradition.

And then there was raki. Served in a small, unassuming bar, it’s Albania’s version of homemade moonshine—strong, sharp, and deeply personal. Markel spoke proudly of helping his grandfather make it, a reminder that in Albania, even the drinks carry family history.

The day wrapped much like it began—back at the market, this time with a bit more energy and confidence. A little bargaining, a few laughs, and some well-earned souvenirs rounded out the experience.

By the end of the day, the rain had stopped, and our tummies were full, Tiranë revealed itself not just as a city, but as a story—layered, resilient, and unapologetically itself.