I have a habit of wandering, of stepping into places I hadn’t initially planned on visiting, and this time, Eyupsultan in Istanbul became my latest happy accident. I didn’t know much about the district, but as soon as I found myself there, I knew I had stumbled upon something special. The energy, the history, the layers of stories embedded in every corner—it was the kind of serendipity that makes travel feel like a discovery of not just places but pieces of life you hadn’t known you were missing.

The cemetery in Eyupsultan instantly caught my attention. I have an affinity for cemeteries—Barbados, New Orleans, and other trips have often led me to wander among the tombstones, reading the final words and admiring the sculptures that honor the dead. Cemeteries tell stories, not just of individuals but of the collective soul of a place. This one, with its intricate designs and centuries of history, was no different. It was hauntingly beautiful, and like always, I found peace in the quiet contemplation that comes from walking among graves.

And then there was the cable car ride—short, yes, but an unexpected treat. It lifted me above the city, a fleeting moment to see Eyupsultan from above. The view was expansive, peaceful, and framed by the rooftops and the cemeteries below, where centuries of history rested beneath our feet.

But what truly struck me was a reminder of a moment in time I had once only heard in passing: a car on display from the July 2015 attempted coup, referred to as a terrorist attack by locals. This event, a piece of history I had barely grasped in the headlines, seems deeply woven into the fabric of Istanbul’s present. The conversations around it, the stories people shared about that day, felt as though it’s a chapter of collective memory that refuses to fade. It gave me pause—to think how we often brush past such critical moments in places we don’t call home, not realizing the profound impact they leave on a city’s people.

It wasn’t just the coup, though. The locals had so much more to tell. Stories about other ethnic groups who had lived in the area in the past, whispered histories that were both personal and political. I listened with fascination, the way a student listens to a lecture that changes the way they see the world. That’s what travel does—it fills the gaps in your understanding, adds texture to the blur of headlines, and gives you the gift of other people’s perspectives.

Of course, I didn’t leave without a souvenir. I came across a quirky, rainbow-colored Russian-style hat, all furry and fabulous. It became my crown for the day, a reminder that travel is about delight as much as it is about discovery.

Eyupsultan was unexpected, but it felt like a perfect encapsulation of why I wander. To hear new stories. To see the world from new angles. To step into places that surprise you and to leave them with a deeper appreciation of the people and the history that make them what they are. Sometimes, the best moments are the ones you don’t plan for.