Istanbul: this story is not about...
This story is not about how I stayed, in three different houses of local people during 8 days without paying (I used the social network Hospitality Club, there was still no Airbnb).
This story is not about how in the third house that I stayed, I did not get to know the owner. He was traveling but he left me the keys to his house.
This story is not about how my last night in Istanbul, I ended up dancing salsa in the middle of a class in front of 50 people, just 3 hours before leaving to the airport.
This story is not about how while taking pictures at the entrance of a mosque, a woman in her burka winked at me (I had a feeling of surprise, laughter, and fright).
This story is not about me eating the most incredible durum made with a filling of 21 spices and mint. (Spectacular and really spicy). And tasting the great mint tea.
Nor this story is about how Istanbul really is the city that never sleeps (2 am, barbershops working and exterior markets too).
This story is not about how I found in the spice bazaar, a cheese very similar to my favorite cheese from my country (Honduras). A cheese that I haven’t found anywhere else: The “quesillo“.This story is not about keep reading