by Dr Rahim Said
Ever since my childhood, the name Constantinople — later Istanbul — has stirred my imagination. Through the pages of history books, novels, and age-old legends, I followed the city’s rise and fall, its empires built and lost.
I often dreamed of standing where East meets West, gazing across the Bosphorus. In my old age, that longing never left me. I imagined myself one day sitting at a café overlooking those fabled waters, sipping my favourite coffee.
And today — beyond my wildest dreams — here I am. A cup of rich, dark Turkish coffee in hand, staring out across the shimmering blue waters toward the Asian side of Istanbul. I silently thank my lucky stars that life has allowed me this moment: to live a childhood fantasy I once believed would remain on the pages of history books.
I have to pinch my arm now and then, half-expecting to wake and find the mesmerising view — of minarets, domes, and bustling ferries — vanished like a half-remembered dream. But it’s all still there.
Of course, visiting The Seven Hills Café wouldn’t be complete without a feast of traditional Turkish delights. A platter arrives: creamy hummus, tangy stuffed vine leaves, a fiery tomato dip, cool purslane with yoghurt, smoky patlıcan soslu (grilled aubergine in tomato sauce), and generous baskets of fresh bread. Every bite is a reminder of this city’s rich culinary heritage.
As twilight descends, the café staff invite me to the rooftop for a charming ritual: feeding the seagulls.
The moment I lift a forkful of soft white cheese, a flurry of wings fills the air as seagulls swoop gracefully to claim their prize.
Behind them stands the magnificent Blue Mosque, an enduring testament to Ottoman splendour, while just opposite, the grand Hagia Sophia — once a Byzantine basilica, later an imperial mosque, and now a museum — watches silently over the centuries.
It’s a night, a view, and a memory I will carry with me forever. A small victory for the child who never stopped dreaming of Istanbul.
WE