Heritage Homecoming

ISTANBUL, April 9, 2025 – After the Bosphorus cruise, our driver suggested starting at Galata Tower before meeting him later at Taksim Square. He dropped us off a block from Viyana Kahvesi, a charming cafe near the tower.

Mom and my brother Hameed exchanged a knowing look as we settled at our table. “You have to try the San Sebastian cheesecake,” Hameed insisted after we ordered coffee. I later discovered, after creating social media accounts for this travel blog, that this Basque style burnt cheesecake had gone viral online. My mom and brother were unknowingly on trend.

The cafe’s second floor offered a perfect view of Galata Tower while we savored the cheesecake. The rich, creamy interior contrasted with its caramelized top, but what made it extraordinary was the generous layer of chocolate ganache draped over the entire slice. Amazing for the first few bites, but almost overwhelmingly rich as I continued. Still, that chocolate layer kept calling to me, and I found myself enjoying small tastes of it long after abandoning the cake.

Mom and Hameed decided to rest at the café while Nat and I headed to the tower. The wind picked up as we exited, making the already cold day even more biting. With it came the fragrant aroma of roasting chestnuts from a nearby street vendor’s portable cart.

The scent unlocked a vivid childhood memory I hadn’t recalled in years. Suddenly I was transported to 1990s winter evenings in my grandmother’s Jordan home, where we’d gather around her kerosine heater that often doubled as chestnut roaster. It’s remarkable how scents bypass conscious thought, reaching directly into emotional memories that photographs or stories sometimes fail to summon.

“We have to get some,” I told Nat, digging for lira. The vendor handed over a paper cone filled with hot chestnuts.

I split one open with practiced movements, muscle memory from childhood taking over. As I popped a warm piece into my mouth, I closed my eyes, savoring the warm, earthy, slightly sweet flavor.

“Roasted chestnuts, like the Christmas song,” Nat remarked as I chewed. “I never had one like this,” he added. “I thought it was just an old song thing.” I realized I had heard the song multiple times but to me, roasted chestnuts had nothing to do with Christmas.

I ran back to the café to hand my mom the rest of the chestnuts before joining the line for the tower. While waiting in the cold, we read the historical plaque explaining that the medieval stone tower has stood over this part of Istanbul since 1348, originally built as part of the Genoese colony’s defenses. The line moved quickly despite the tower’s popularity.

After a short elevator ride up, we stepped onto the observation deck where Istanbul spread before us in all directions: the historic peninsula with its mosque domes and minarets to the south, the Bosphorus flowing between continents, and the Golden Horn curving northward. Worth every minute of the chilly wait.

“That’s where we just were,” I said, pointing to Dolmabahçe Palace along the Bosphorus shore. From this vantage point, we could trace our entire morning journey.

What the exterior didn’t reveal was the adventure awaiting us for the descent. We were told we had to take the stairs down, though oddly we found ourselves alone in the stairwell. The narrow, tightly spiraling steps made for a confusing but memorable journey. This structure has stood through earthquakes and fires, yet its interior remained unchanged, a vertigo inducing relic from medieval times.

Stay tuned for the final chapter of our first day in Istanbul, where we’ll walk the famous Istiklal Avenue to Taksim Square and have a conversation that reveals fascinating local insights about Turkey’s political landscape from our driver’s perspective.