Following my trusty Former’s travel guide, I decided to try one of the recommended restaurants: Nu Teras. Described as nothing beyond casual-dining, I thought it would be best to bring my laptop and do some typing. However, where I’m sitting now is FAR from the solo-dining, emailing writing, restaurant I was expecting.

I should have picked up earlier that there was something special about this place. It seemed everyone I spoke to knew exactly where this place was, and they all showed a sign of surprise when I – the sweat-drenched, back packing, student – asked for directions.

I’m now sitting on a sixth story terrace, overlooking the spectacularly lit up Istanbul. Not a cloud in sight, sharp lights glow, allowing the unique Middle Eastern culture to illuminate the night’s sky. In the near-distance, beyond a body of water, a historic Mosque stands. On the other side, an equally narrow line of water separates the Europe from Asia, where the famous Blue Mosque lies.

In the restaurant, I am surrounded by glittering tops, shinning shirts, styled hair and over-priced watches. To accompany the formal attire, pelicans circulate the tables ensuring all glasses are filled. (Oddly enough, I had to ask for my water to be refilled - perhaps a reflection of my poor choice in clothing).

I had just finished my semi-sweet vegetarian pizza, when a strange event occurred. There’s a group of ten sitting next to me; evenly partnered, formally dressed twenty year olds. Although I can’t understand their words, their body language speaks loud enough. There is clear tension between the girls; one sitting in the distance (near her boy friend), three on the other end of the table and a fifth sitting by herself opposite the three. This uneven distribution was the result of a recent picture-taking, where a centre (bitchy) girl demanded one of them remain on the outskirts. I’ve been observing their interaction the entire meal, taking clear note of their insincere smiles and competing laughter, and then – just to confirm my judgment – a surprise arrived!

Moments earlier, at a table behind me (with a similar size crowd), there was a loud roar as everyone cheered happy birthday with an arriving cake. Just now, a similar cake arrived at my neighbors table…except this time, there was silence. No surprise, no good wishes, no singing, no cheers. A glitch with the candle lighting didn’t even ignite enthusiasm amongst the crowd. It was the most awkward experience I had ever seen…so much so, that I felt compelled to cheer for the birthday girl (which I regret not doing now).

It’s strange though. I sit in this contradictory setting (dressed for Brunswick: dining in Toorak), surrounded by a foreign language and unfamiliar music: yet it’s the moments like these I travel for. The moments where I sit by a tranquil backdrop of a new territory, and despite the universal body language of those around, I know I don’t belong. Perhaps it is this knowing that allows me to appreciate this place I’m in.

Here is Istanbul: here is holiday: here is me.

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