My first e-mail from Istanbul, sent at 5 a.m. Wednesday

Istanbul's a lot of things. Among them: cosmopolitan, crowded and full of amazing architecture. I'm a little nervous about going out tomorrow and opening a bank account, taking buses around town, getting a cell phone and buying breakfast. But it's more an excited version of nervous than anything else.

Whoa. They just started singing the morning call to prayer. It sounds...haunting... and melodic. It's weird to know that someone else is actually awake right now and it's not because of jet lag.

When I asked my roommate, Begum, yesterday about hearing the morning call to prayer she said, "Uh, I don't think I've ever been awake for it." She and her friend both paused, thought really hard for a sec, and concluded that they had never heard it. I get the impression that Turkish Muslims practice something like "Muslim Lite," similar to the Anglican version of Christianity.

Begum (bay-goom) was nice enough to pick me up from the airport yesterday. On the way into Istanbul we passed a bus stop and (sadly I didn't have my camera handy, but) there was a woman standing in a full, black chador next to a woman in her twenties wearing a mini-wifebeater and jeans that likely required her to grease her legs first. I asked Begum's boyfriend about the woman in the chador and he said she wasn't Turkish. Turkish women- if they even wear a headscarf- tie it differently. This begged the question- how many ways can you tie a scarf? But I was getting the impression that all of my questions about mosques, minarets and morning calls to prayer were freaking them out, so I shut up. (Amazingly, even I know when to shut up. Sometimes.)

My university is beautiful. It's on a hill overlooking the Bosphorus Strait with a view of Asia. My kitchen has a view of Asia too. I had to say that because I think it sounds cool. The apartment is fully furnished. Begum and her previous roommate, Feyza, said they weren't sure how to furnish it when they moved in three years ago. Then their moms showed up and "Voila! Furniture appeared." Listening to them tell that story was like hearing myself talk. Feyza is leaving to do a masters in Madrid, and I will live in her room. It has high ceilings, a floor-to-ceiling window and beautiful wood floors. I think this is -aesthetically - the nicest place I've lived in a long time. Next week, I will have my own phone line. I've got wireless. I've got a washing machine and a maid that comes on Mondays. If I told you how low my rent was, you'd want to punch me.

Ingilizce biliyor musunuz, I can't say it either.

I knew I was far from home when figuring out which button opens the front door - is it "Kapi" or maybe "Kapici" - was a big success. Never mind that I couldn't order my own food or figure out how to say "Do you speak English" (Ingilizce biliyor musunoz) in a way that people understood.

Yesterday, I said "Please" (Lütfen), "Thank You" (Teşekkür ederim) and "Bye Bye" (Güle Güle) and I felt like I solved Pi.

Today, I'm being a wimp. Instead of shopping for a cell phone, bus pass and bank account, I'm writing this blog. Don't get me wrong, I love updating all of you on my life. But I really should be, you know, attempting to enter society.

Istanbul, at a first glance, is fascinating. It's overcrowded, but not dirty. It's old, but not crumbling. It's the kind of place where you feel like you've lost your direction and then you look over and - poof!- there's the Bosphorus River and a majestic view of Asia's front door. From the sky, the city looks like a cluster of copper and ceramic roofs, dotted with dozens of minarets poking into the sky. My neighborhood, Beşiktaş, is replete with coffee shops, organic markets and ethnic restaurants.

Enough stalling. I'm off.

Güla Güla.

This is my photo ID. I told my sister I wanted to avoid looking American. She said I also managed to avoid looking like myself.