Rain pounds on the fiberglass roof of the Masal restaurant’s outdoor terrace. As I watch rivers of water pool and rush down the brick alley of the Sultanamet district, I rub my hands together to generate warmth. A booming clap of thunder drowns out the afternoon call to prayer.

Why does the last day of my adventure have to feature more rain than most winter days in Vancouver? By the end of the day, I will need to wring out my socks and hang my soaked to the knee jeans up to dry. Tomorrow’s forecast does not look much better, which makes me feel less depressed about saying goodbye to this dynamic city.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to see the real Istanbul. My new friend Bahattin had the afternoon off, so he offered to show me around. First we took the tram to the neighbourhood of Hesiki where locals instead of tourists dominated the streets. He led me around gigantic puddles and through crowded alleyways to his favourite Kebab place.

Inside, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. I got more than one stare as we walked upstairs to eat lunch under photos of the president of Turkey and the country’s bright red flag. Bahattin ordered the biggest combination plate of meat and stuffed vegetables I have ever seen. I deferred to him and ate everything he suggested, including (I found out later) lamb liver. As I gorged myself, he asked me if I liked Ayran. I thought he said Iran. I didn’t know where the conversation would go, but I nodded. Then, the Turkish speaking server placed a gigantic tin mug of a salty yogurt drink in front of me and smiled. I took a tentative sip and then grinned back.

Next, he thought I should see Taksim Square and he asked if I wanted to take the Metro or the Bus. I asked him to choose and said a quick prayer that I wouldn’t end up regretting my decision to trust him. He opted for the Metro. I followed him back through the patchwork of alleys, over a crowded street to a bus stop and craned my neck. I did not see any sign of a Metro and a little knot of fear began to gather in my stomach.

Luckily, a yellow mini van (a Metro Taxi) pulled up and he motioned for me to dash with him through 2 lanes of traffic to jump in. The doors hadn’t even closed when the driver pulled back into the mess of converging traffic. As he navigated through the complex grid to get over a crowded bridge, I tried to keep my small town wonder in check. Everywhere I looked, I saw urban sprawl and I began to fully appreciate that Istanbul is the 5th most populated city in the world.

We walked from the Taksim Square down Istiklal Street and a jostling crowd of tourists and locals instantly swallowed us up.  Although most people come here to shop, the lashing rain and my overwhelmed senses prevented me from joining them.

Bahattin led me into a crowded building and up three flights of stairs to a café overrun by locals. We sat overlooking the street and he introduced me to Turkish coffee, which made my hair stand on end and then the much more palatable Turkish tea. I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I had to use the washroom. As I crouched over a whole in the ground for the third time in a week, I missed my toilet at home.

When I returned, I couldn’t help but stare at the Roman warrior sitting across from me. His stocky build, beautiful curly black hair, jaunty soul patch, five o’clock shadow, olive skin, and piercing hazel eyes could easily have made me weak in the knees. He wanted to know if I would come back to Turkey to see him before he has to join the army for his mandatory 15 months of service next August? Or, maybe I would come watch his football match tonight? Maybe go clubbing with him afterwards where he would drink orange juice and I could have wine?

I smiled politely and although I am sure he captivates many tourist women with his sweet nature and quick laugh, I had no desire to move beyond friendship with this 25 year old Turkish boy.

He didn’t take offence and happily led me through the slippery streets of the ‘New District’ where we passed the 650-year-old Galata Tower and then went through an underground electronics Bazaar on our way to the Galata Bridge. As we battled wind and rain, I wished the sun had come out so I could have cruised the Bosporus. I guess I can add that to my list of reasons to return.

Even though the weather continues to unleash its fury and I have limited time left, I feel fortunate to have experienced the real city. As I reflect on my adventures of the past 3 ½ weeks, I feel overwhelming grateful for this opportunity and am already trying to figure out how to fund my next adventure.