Through the plane window, one of the first things that I noticed was the amount of mosques — one every two blocks. The minarets were all sticking out into the sky, making it the most prominent feature of the villages we flew over. Walking in to the airport doesn’t feel any different from, say, Miami or Paris. There are ads for cozy hotels and luxury fashion items being marketed by the same ads of scantily clad women you’d find anywhere; quite a contrast from the group of niqab-donning women walking around. They were from Jordan.

I am picked up by a short friendly-looking man at the airport, catching sight of my name scribbled on a sign among a multitude of others at the arrivals exit. I read somewhere that the Turkish are the most social group of people, and my driver confirms this as he keeps trying to talk to me in Turkish although I clearly have no idea what he’s saying. My driver announces every town we drive through and seems to be particularly fond of Sisli (pronounced Shishli), a town which looks like a shopping and entertainment hub. He says “Las Vegas, Paris, no..Istanbul!” as he glances back to grin at me with a thumbs up. I agree with him so far.

Everything seems to be quite nice, which makes Istanbul one of the few countries that has given me a good impression upon first arriving. There are long baskets of pink and white flowers lining the highways, and iron gates shaped like hearts. It all seems so clean. Every few seconds, the driver says a word in Turkish and has me repeat it as if he’s teaching me a few things. Some things I get, some I definitely do not. Luckily I had played a language learning game for fifteen minutes on the plane, and recognized a few of his phrases.

We pass by the Bosphorus, driving through seaside town with phenomenal views of the coastline which have that infectious Mediterranean holiday town feel. Sahan, I think was his name, slows the car down when he sees me taking pictures so I could take ” a really super one”. Closer to the university, we need to climb up some steep mountain roads, small and windy, kind of like Costa Rica. There are several houses on the mountain and at one point we pass a guy with some goats nibbling on plants by the road. The cars behind us pass because Sahan has slowed down so I can take in the scenery.

Koc University from the outside looks like a castle…or maybe just one of those pretentious gated communities in Fort Lauderdale or West Palm. They ask for my passport at the entrance and then we’re in.

Campus is a ghost town so far, as I’m the only one in my room and hence have time to write this. I’m intrigued by everything and excited to see who I meet and how this turns out.