Returning to Turkey, especially at night, was like returning to the west. From a ragged, barely two-lane road in Bulgaria (which I’m convinced cannot be the main road to Turkey) we crossed the border and spent the next few hours on a beautifully smooth six-lane highway, filled with long-haul trucks carrying everything a first world country needs, from Sony products to biodiesel. In the dark, you can’t see the details of houses, only the shapes of neighborhoods, and we passed a few suburbs that could have been lifted straight out of Canada. The highrises, too, are not the blocky, cramped looking Soviet constructions of the Balkans; they sport big glass balcony doors, often illuminated by large flat-panel TVs.

Walking down the main pedestrian drag from Taksim to the hostel only strengthened the impression of western modernity. Less kebap than Starbucks, and not a Turkish beat to be heard. I already miss the Balkans, but am excited to adventure outside of cities for a while.