Sometimes, to understand a city, you need to observe the daily life of its people rather than its museums. Because what makes cities unforgettable are often the details that are never shown on maps.
THE UNSEEN SIDE OF THE CITY
How many days does it take to truly get to know a city? Is it enough to visit its most famous museum, see its most beautiful view, or dine at its most popular restaurant? Or does the soul of a city only become visible when we can touch the daily lives of the people who live there? Of course, I wasn't thinking about any of this as I set off for London. Ahead of me were just four days to enjoy myself.
Despite waking up at 4 AM, I land in the city after a calm and productive flight during which I finished a book. I am greeted by a rain that makes me forget I had opened the summer and sea season on the magnificent shores of the Aegean just last week. I'm so glad I brought that sweatshirt with me. And if I can find an umbrella, there will be nothing left to stop me from enjoying the city. After a rather exhausting few months, my expectations for this trip are quite high.
Meeting up with my university friend, we explore the British pubs on her list. While we live just 5 km apart in Istanbul and can never manage to meet, we experience the justified pride of doing so in London. We are not in Hampton, but rather feel like we are in the Asmalımescit of the 2010s, and of course, we don't care about the cold weather. We even find a nice excuse called "typical London weather." As the clock strikes 7 PM, we turn our direction toward the Novello Theatre. We take out the tickets we bought months in advance for the Mamma Mia musical and get in line. The stage opens, songs everyone knows by heart, a colorful atmosphere... But strangely, I can't fully get into it. Maybe the fatigue of the day, maybe the pace of the evening... Or maybe it was at that exact moment that I accepted for the first time that every experience doesn't have to be as grand as expected.
The show ends, and it's still early. Actually, not really when you consider the time difference, but we don't want to sacrifice our limited hours to sleep. We make our way through Soho. Perhaps due to the effect of the cold weather, the streets aren't very lively. I think to myself that summer energy hasn't visited these parts. Actually, this is the city's normal.
THE REAL STORY BEGINS HERE...
The next day, my friend who has been living here for seven years joins us. Our route this time is Brighton. Brighton—which my colleagues insisted I must set aside a weekend for, which I am familiar with from business conferences, and where my expectations were consequently quite high—is a place my friend has never visited despite spending seven years in England. Nor has she felt its absence. After a one-hour train journey spent mostly gossiping, we are greeted by a windy, sunny, and activist Brighton. We find ourselves in the middle of protests with my friend's one-year-old daughter. I am a bit bewildered; there are no riot water cannons, the police are smiling, and there is even an officer posing for photos with a citizen. A little further ahead, we see a magnificent orchestra playing street music. I think to myself, "It could be otherwise." Perhaps right at that moment, my friend is thinking to herself what a right step she took in moving to England for her daughter's future. The feeling of feeling safe is a very fundamental and very deep matter. I don't remember how long it has been since I lost this feeling in my own country, a feeling we try to catch for just a few days during European travels.
With the Royal Pavilion Museum, Brighton Pier, and so on, the must-visit list runs out rather quickly. We can't help but wonder if there's a place we missed, but then we realize that Brighton basically consists of spending a few hours by the beach drinking something accompanied by seafood for tourists like us. For the locals, of course, it is much more.
Brighton seems attractive because of the option to swim in the sea just an hour away from London, but the reason goes deeper. We are actually talking about a city dominated by leftist thought, inhabited by quite open-minded people, and considered one of the LGBT capitals of Europe. Later, when our English friend Jon, who joined us later, talks about his desire to move here and rising property prices, his Japanese wife Emi and Indian friend Shruthi recount between the lines how the discrimination they have been subjected to over the years has changed shape. They talk about how peer bullying they experienced in elementary school due to their appearance turned into indirect bullying as they grew up—and how none of this happens in Brighton. It is precisely with this inclusive spirit that Brighton draws people in. At that moment, I realize that the charm of a city is not formed solely by the number of sights to see. The social climate, sense of security, and daily life culture offered by a city produce an invisible value at least as much as its history. Perhaps this is precisely what cities compete over today.
RETURNING HOME
My Brighton experience, which started as a disappointment due to the story my mind had already written, shows me that this city is much more than pleasant hours spent by the sea on a sunny day and its famous fish & chips. What clarifies my feelings and thoughts is realizing something just a week after this trip, while hosting Shruthi in Istanbul.
We want to squeeze a Bosphorus tour into her limited time. Coming off a flight between London and Mumbai with a layover in Istanbul, my friend arrives exhausted, tired, and almost regretting not booking a direct flight. Despite this, her reaction the moment she first sees the turquoise color of the Bosphorus is still before my eyes. At the end of an hour spent on our boat departing from Galataport, she is completely rejuvenated, has shaken off her fatigue, and is already starting to make plans for her second and long trip to Istanbul. When I casually mention Istanbul residents who live on one side and work on the other, her reaction seems to prove how accustomed we are to ignoring what we have:
"How lucky they are to experience this everyday."
I smile.
The grass is always greener on the other side. The conversation inevitably turns to our home countries. As she forces herself to finish the Turkish coffee, which she finds quite harsh, she adds:
"Yes, we have hundreds of years of history and beauties that leave tourists speechless, but other things are needed to make it feel like home."
I send Shruthi off to the airport with apple tea and double-roasted pistachio Turkish delight thrown into her suitcase. On the way back, I try to weigh what's on my mind.
LOOKING AT THE SAME CITY, WATER, AND STREET WITH FRESH EYES
The true value of a city is not hidden in what we can see as tourists, but in the life that those who live there experience every day.
I am already quite used to hearing from every visitor how special the city I live in is. I don't remember a single moment when I crossed the bridge, turned my head, and wasn't impressed by the unique magnificence of this city by day and night. But Brighton makes me rethink that what makes a city valuable is not just its scenery. That beloved quote comes to mind again: Man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it. Looking at the same city, the same water, and the same street this time with fresh eyes.
This content has been translated using artificial intelligence technology.