It’s Christmas season again, but this time I’m not navigating the biting cold of Berlin like I dud a decade ago. Instead, I’m in Istanbul, where the weather’s not as frigid, but the rain and overcast skies are giving me some major flashbacks to that trip a decade ago. Back then, I was bundled up, dodging icy winds, and marveling at how Christmas in Berlin felt both magical and grueling. Istanbul’s gray skies are more forgiving, but just like in Berlin, we’re making the most of it—maybe even more so.

Our legs deserve a medal at this point. We walked 16,000 steps in a single day, soaking in centuries of history at Topkapi Palace, marveling at the grandeur of Hagia Sophia, and delving into the eerie beauty of the Basilica Cistern (a site graced by none other than Sean Connery in a James Bond film, by the way). The sheer scale and depth of these places remind me why I love traveling during the off-season. The lack of crowds means more time and space to truly connect—not just with the sites, but with the people around us.

Speaking of which, I somehow ended up at a government-subsidized carpet store that felt like a treasure trove. These were no ordinary rugs. These were painstakingly handcrafted by artisans from across Turkey, and I even got to watch the magic unfold: silk being drawn from the silkworm, and a master weaver methodically creating something destined to outlive us all. Naturally, I couldn’t leave without buying a piece—a reminder of the Silk Road and a beautiful marker of this trip that I know will stay with me forever. My wallet is lighter, but my soul is richer.

And that was just one day.

The next day, we ventured to the Asian side of Istanbul, defying the downpour with enthusiasm. The vibe was different—grittier, more relaxed. Coffee houses and pubs lined the streets, offering refuge from the rain. I had one of the best cocktails of my life—purple, frothy, and made with aquafaba, of all things. I didn’t know chickpea water could do that, but here we are.

As I sip my cocktail and reflect, I can’t help but think back to that Berlin trip. It wasn’t peak tourist season then, either, and there’s something about traveling in the off months that makes everything feel more intimate, more real. It’s not just about rushing from one landmark to the next; it’s about lingering, about conversations that wouldn’t happen if you were shoulder-to-shoulder with tourists. Like the unexpected chat my son and I had with a local Turk at Topkapi Palace about the harem—those are the kinds of moments that stick with you long after the trip ends.

So, while the rain might dampen our jackets, it’s not dampening our spirits. If anything, it’s adding a layer of authenticity to this adventure—reminding me that the best trips, like the best rugs, are woven together from countless unexpected moments.