Long, long ago, I lived in Turkey for most of a summer as an exchange student. My host family lived in a house in an older neighborhood of Izmir, the district of Bayraklı. Three years later when I visited them they had scaled up and moved to a high rise apartment at the other end of the city.

One thing that was the same both times I was there was the custom of strolling along the wide walkway next to the sea that is called the Kordon.

On summer evenings especially it was the place to be, refreshed by the breezes off the Aegean. But at any time of day you might run into friends, or intentionally meet up with them there; it was a simple pleasure for families. Street vendors sold snacks from their carts, such as roasted corn and nuts. As the sun was setting we’d buy a cup of the pudding-like warm drink called salep.

Over the years since I have often thought about how that city had so wisely made the most of its setting for the health and prosperity of its inhabitants.

I saw in advance that Thessaloniki had a similar recreational strip, called The New Waterfront, and last night I walked there for an hour.

I learned this morning when looking for a picture of Izmir’s promenade that some people have called these two “twin cities,” because of various historical and demographic aspects they share, besides their seaside location and pleasing waterside parks. Wouldn’t it be fun to spend time in both cities for a year or two while researching and writing a book comparing the two? Hmm… I should have thought of that about twenty years ago, but I suppose I was busy with something else.

Well, it felt very strange and dreamy to wander along that walkway last night, like going back to a different life in a different place that was somehow the same place, an existence that belonged to a different person. But no, it was me, and it is me. It’s a mystery for sure.