We are back to Moscow. Nothing has changed here. This strange new season that can't decide whether it's winter or spring is still here. Judging by the weather forecast and the thick shield of clouds that we've seen from the plane, it's not going anywhere. It's raining, and it's snowing. In Istanbul, on the other hand, everything is in bloom, and the city seems like the happiest place in the world.
When I was a kid, Yalta was my Istanbul every year in March: three weeks of bliss (mixed with some tennis-related tortures). I was conceived in Yalta, too, and there're also a few drops of Mediterranean blood passed to me from both my papa and my mama - so that may explain my nearly total aversion to the northern climate.
And weather, of course, isn't the only thing I love about Istanbul - but right now it's the weather that makes the hugest difference.
Here's Marta, hanging out at a suzani shop at Grand Bazaar:
And some more stuff from the same day: