Me- 1, Rick Steves-0

Two nights ago, Luke, Alex, and Byado waved one last goodbye to Istanbul and it's inhabitants, hopped an eastbound train to Cappadocia in central Anatolia, and closed the door on the latest chapter in their travels.

Meanwhile, two hours ago, after sharing another excellent breakfast with my gracious and entertaining hosts of the past 6 nights, Onur and Ugur, and their unbelievably nice friend Karem, I decided, just like I have every night since my three amigos left, that maybe the surreal, martian landscapes of Cappadocia- and my reunion with my fellow Americans- can wait.

For now I belong to Istanbul. At least for one more day.

I'm not sure whether its a good sign or a bad sign that after 10 full days abroad I haven't been able to pull myself away from even the first stop on our route. Maybe it's both. That said, I know my extended stay in this city will have to come to an end at some point, and probably in the next few days. It's for this reason that I find myself looking back on the checklist of things that I was supposed to do during my time in Istanbul, which I have to admit is conspicuously incomplete...

I've not marvelled at the majesty of Byzantine architecture from within the walls of the Aya Sophia.

I've not tread the footsteps of Ottoman Sultans in the grand, lush Topkapi and Dolmabahce palaces.

I've not coasted down the mighty Bosphorus at night, beneath a cascade of city lights and ancient minarets.

I haven't dropped 10 lira on a tourist-ready T-shirt embroidered with the Turkish flag. (Not that there's anything wrong with that... Byado.)

What I have done, however, I think is more significant than what I haven't: I've feasted on traditional Turkish soup and toast and stu and kebap and rice pudding, sipped Turkish Çı (tea) and coffee (not as bad as I was told, but that may have had something to do with the three sugar cubes my host put in each cup), gotten my ass handed to me in the Turkish card game Dost Kazık (roughly "Backstabber"), watched the Cannes Award winning Turkish movie Uç Maymun ("Three Monkeys"), debated Turkish politics (an unwieldly combination of Islam, the cult of Ataturk, and the quickly growing presence of socialist economic policy among the college-educated Turkish youth), mastered the Turkish metro, bobbed my head to Turkish punk rock, learned both Turkish and English swear words, learned how to be a Turkish "macho man", failed at convincing anyone that I was one, danced in a club to Turkish techno, been told by a young Turkish guy that I was dancing with his girlfriend, and drank way, way too much Raki.

It's not a complete list yet, but it's one I can live with.

In other news, I'm working on- or at least mulling over- a flurry of blogposts that will probably see the light of day in the next half a week or so. One is a tribute to my new Turkish BFF's, the aforementioned Onur and Ugur. Another is my closing thoughts on a city that I've only been in for a little over a week and which already feels more like home than Wisconsin or Iowa ever will. Finally, the third is an essay that's probably both overlong and overambitious for a single blog post, but worth writing all the same- a loveletter to the backpacker and the things that drive him.

And that's not even including the things that I have yet to experience over the next few days, which will probably warrent blog posts of their own: a trip to my old suburb, Zekirayakoy, where I used to go to school, and ride my bike with friends, and visit the local pizza place, and return home to a warm bed every night; a grand farewell to Istanbul and it's many inhabitants, probably involving yet more Raki; and a unique means of reaching my next destination, which I'm not ready to disclose because it isn't set in stone just yet.

After all that- maybe- I can close the door on Istanbul.