At a bus stop while I tried to locate the way to the modern art museum, a businessman slowly and carefully explained the route. In Turkish.

Having no clue what he said, Angie and I murmured our thanks and hopped the next street tram.

Our luck held, and we were soon being greeted by friendly submachine gun-toting art museum entrance guards manning the metal detectors. I nervously went through, not yet realizing that practically all major sites were like this in Istanbul.

Even the tiny Istiklal Street movie theater had guards with guns. The cinema turned out to be cavernous inside. Movie previews were mostly replaced by product ads: beer, breath strips, coffee and detergent.

Halfway through the matinee of Ocean's Thirteen, the lights came on and several people filed out. ("Smoke break," our guide laughed later when I explained my bewilderment.)

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