The night of our 23rd anniversary, I leaned very close to Ken and whispered…,

You tried to kill me.

Ken had been plotting something for the past several weeks, but I had no idea it involved attempted homicide.

He surprised me one day and told me that we were taking a trip — just the two of us, and he wanted to keep the destination a secret. That’s hard to do in a world of emailed receipts and credit card purchase notifications. After the fourth email confirming our ‘upcoming trip to Istanbul’ I confessed that I knew where we would be going. But Ken kept the rest of his plans mum until we arrived in the city.

New York City has a population of 8.4 million people. Istanbul has nearly double that number. The city spans two continents and is naturally divided by waterways into three huge sections — the New City and the Old City on the European side, and the industrial and residential Asian Side.

The city, mostly as a home to the Hagia Sophia and the seat of Constantine’s Roman Empire, has been on my list of places to see, but I did nothing to prepare other than check the weather and learn the Turkish words for hello, yes, no, please, and thank you.

The map below doesn’t give you a very accurate picture of what to expect. First of all, Istanbul in November rain is not that vibrant. Second, the red flags indicating tourist attractions should be replaced with Turkish flags the size of football fields, visible everywhere in Istanbul. Third and fourth, neither topography nor stray animals are represented on this map. Thick-needled pine trees grew in rolling hills, and quarry operations exposed sheer faces of faded pink, brown, and tan soil. Roadsigns warned motorists of cattle and dogs on the roadway. And there, in spaces between the entrance ramp and the highway, dairy cows grazed while guard dogs calmly surveilled them.

It took about an hour to travel from the airport to our hotel, located near Topkapi Palace in the Old City. Three lanes of fast-moving traffic suddenly snarled to a crawl as lanes twisted away and disappeared. We drove past blocks of canopied storefronts overflowing with wire cabling, yellow power tools, and hardware. Enormous modern glass chandeliers gleamed from decorators’ stores for a city block. Industrial-sized copper coffee urns and brass tea samovars filled display shelves in the next block. Fishermen packed along the rails of Galata Bridge, hoping to catch dinner or earn a few Turkish liras.

As the workday wound to an end, we ambled along the Old City waterfront from the Golden Horn clockwise to the Marmara Sea. We passed through Sirkeci Station, the southern terminus of the Orient Express, and discussed the following days’ itineraries.

Day One: Meander at will, and get a feel for the city.

Day Two: A guided tour of the Hagia Sophia, The Blue Mosque, Topkapi Palace, and the Grand Bazar.

Day Three: Free time most of the day, followed by a sunset cruise up the Bosphorus to celebrate our 23rd anniversary.

Day Four: Souvenir hunting and evening flight to Belgrade.

The first night, we walked the perimeter walls along the Marmara Sea until the sun had set completely. Over our shoulders, the minarets of the Hagia Sophia could be seen, so we headed that way.

From the Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque was only steps away.

Not quite ready to call it a night, we walked through Gulhane Park. It was a place we returned to every day of our visit.

Day Two was enthralling and exhausting. The Roman Hippodrome, complete with Delphic bronze column, Egyptian obelisk, and Turkish minarets:

My first trip inside a mosque – The Sultanahmet Mosque (the Blue Mosque), under repair following an earthquake:

Aya Sophia adorned with a wooly cottonball cloud:

Beautiful Topkapi Palace:

A million miles of wool yarn on the way to the Grand Bazaar:

A weirdly delicious dessert, called kunafa, made with spun pastry, filled with a mild melting cheese, then drenched in a sugar syrup and dusted with pistachios. We ate this in the Spice Market, next to two women in black hijabs who traded conspiratorial smiles with me – the kind your best friend gives you before she says, “you have to try this!”

Day Three – Ken and Erinn’s 23rd Anniversary: We decided to put our feet in the water on the Asian side of the Bosphorus. The commuter ferry whisked us across the water to the residential district of Istanbul. A sunny esplanade and a tidy park welcomed us.

We dipped our toes in the water, took care not to tangle with the jellyfish floating near shore, then rode the ferry back. We grabbed a less than delightful lunch and sped through the Islamic and Turkish Arts Museum, then back to the hotel in time for our sunset cruise.

This, my friends, is where kismet meets kinetosis. My brother can bob around in a tin can on the ocean for hours. My mother can read Rebecca through the winding hills of North Georgia. I get sick on playground swings. It is my lot in life. My kismet.

Off we went, up the Bosphorus in a giant speedboat with a deep-V hull. The ferries passed in front and around us, churning the water into Sea State 5 while the boat rolled and wallowed. I sought refuge and fresh air on the upper deck, but the villains who staff the boat appeared, rolled down the thick plastic windscreens and started bringing plates of salty cheese, olive tapenade, and vinegary wine to our tables.

I really did think I could make it. Until I didn’t.

This is my last pleasant view of the Old City from the Bosphorus. The patient boat captain sat offshore for a good 10 minutes while passengers captured their final Instagram showpieces. The darkness and the cool breeze finally drove them inside.

Then it was just the sea, the sky, me, and my plastic bag.