ISTANBUL.

Istanbul: A Leica Q-P Odyssey through Chaos, Carpets, and Call to Prayer

There are places in the world that challenge your every preconception, shake you by the collar, and demand you reconsider your worldview. Istanbul, my friends, is one of them. Sixteen million souls cram into this ancient metropolis, a glorious contradiction wrapped in the scent of roasting chestnuts and diesel fumes. And yes, we arrived just as Turkey decided to, shall we say, "reorganize" certain parts of Syria. Timing, as they say, is everything.

Getting into Turkey requires a visa—handy if you want to avoid an extended stay in a small, windowless room at the airport. Visa sorted, we breezed through passport control, only to emerge into a swirling vortex of humanity. Hundreds of smokers loitered just outside the airport doors, puffing away as if their lives depended on it, and we negotiated our way to a cab with the finesse of Olympic hurdling.

From there, we hurtled toward the Bosporus in a manner that can only be described as *terrifyingly efficient*. Istanbul’s suburbs were a dazzling revelation: glass skyscrapers lit up like they were auditioning for a role in Vegas, outlet malls stretching as far as the eye could see, and every global hotel chain you could think of. I half expected to see Mickey Mouse waving from a Starbucks.

Our Airbnb, just a stone’s throw from the Galata Tower, offered a breathtaking introduction to the city. The tower itself, a proud sentinel on the European side, gazes across the Bosporus at Asia. That’s Istanbul for you: a city split between continents, cultures, and about five thousand carpet shops. Our host, Jamil, welcomed us warmly, gave us the lay of the land, and assured us that Istanbul was “much quieter this time of year.” Spoiler: it wasn’t.

Of Mosques and Minarets

The next morning, after a Turkish coffee so strong it could have woken the dead, we flagged down a cab to the Blue Mosque. My trusty Leica Q-P hung from my shoulder, its 28mm lens ready to capture Istanbul in all its technicolor glory. And oh, the Blue Mosque did not disappoint. The interiors were a symphony of blues, greens, and golds, shimmering like a kaleidoscope in the morning light. The Leica Q-P’s color science handled it beautifully, rendering the scene with such vibrancy that I could almost hear the whispers of history in my photos.

From there, we ambled over to the Hagia Sophia, an architectural marvel that defies belief. As we wandered through its cavernous halls, the Leica Q-P once again rose to the occasion, capturing the interplay of light and shadow on ancient mosaics. It’s the kind of place where you forget to breathe, let alone take notes for a blog post.

Of course, no visit would be complete without running the gauntlet of carpet salesmen. They appeared from nowhere, grinning like Cheshire cats and plying us with tea while explaining, at great length, their tenuous connections to Canada. I swear, every single one of them claimed to have visited Halifax or had a cousin in British Columbia. I briefly considered claiming to be Icelandic just to see if they’d switch to Reykjavik.

A Grand Bazaar Adventure

After surviving the mosques, we ventured into the Grand Bazaar, a kaleidoscopic assault on the senses. Picture the world’s oldest shopping mall crammed with trinkets, treasures, and the occasional knockoff Rolex (or as the sign charmingly misspelled it, “Bolex”). The Leica Q-P was in its element here, its sharp lens capturing the bustling energy and vibrant colors of the market stalls. The camera’s compact size made it easy to navigate the crowds without attracting too much attention—a godsend in a place where everything is for sale, including your soul.

We eventually found ourselves at the Egyptian Spice Bazaar, where the smells of saffron, cumin, and something unidentifiably fishy mingled in the air. The Leica Q-P’s sensor practically begged to capture the riot of colors: vivid reds, deep yellows, and every shade of green imaginable. I obliged, snapping away while marveling at the chaos.

Istanbul: A Place That Changes You

By the time we collapsed near the river to rest our weary feet, Istanbul had thoroughly bewitched us. This city, with its contradictions and complexities, had forced me to reconsider everything I thought I knew about Turkey. It’s not the destitute, war-torn place Western media might have you believe. On the contrary, Istanbul is thriving—vibrant, modern, and steeped in history.

And the Leica Q-P, the best travel camera of it’s time?

It captured every nuance, from the dazzling mosaics of the Blue Mosque to the kaleidoscopic chaos of the Grand Bazaar. It’s a camera that doesn’t just take pictures—it tells stories. And Istanbul, as I’ve learned, has no shortage of those.

So, come to Istanbul. Bring an open mind, a healthy appetite for adventure, and if you’re lucky enough, a Leica Q-P. You’ll leave with photos that speak volumes and a new appreciation for a city that defies description. For me, the best travel camera of it’s time

Live well!

M.

All images captured with the Leica Q-P