The fare was only a couple of coins, but they carried me to a whole other continent. Behind me, just a memory, were the famous spires and domes of Topkapi Palace and Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, packed to the gunnels with tourists. But here on the Asian side—called Anatolia, by locals—was a little more mystery. Walking off the ferry and onto the dock under a massive Turkish flag that was flapping mightily in the winds off the water, I was carried by the crush of people, mostly Anatolians, into the warren of back lanes and streets and squares that comprise this district, Kadikoy. Soon enough, I was lost—and happily so. As I entered a tiny food shop to ask for directions, the owner seemed surprised to see a tourist. Pulling up a stool for me to rest my legs, he asked, in good English, where I was from, …