I sat lounging cosily at the table, having just finished a mezze lunch opposite the husstle and bustle of the market traders.
Chat comes easily in this temperate spring. The cafe is one of many on this street. Each Al-Fresco clientele overflows into the street, limiting the car-traffic to an indignant crawl.
Taxi-drivers verbally battle their slow progress along the cobbled space with locals and tourists alike threading dangerously all around them. The din is magical.
In a place where the eastern extreme of Europe meets the western end of Asia; Where the calls to prayer mix naturally with the insistent chatter of lightly clad tourists, the world seems more alive somehow.
From the corner of my eye I noticed our young waiter look down and smile embarrassingly.
Following his distracted eyes I see an equally shy scarf attired, girl waiting tables at the restaurant across the road but one, throw secretive doe-eyed, flashing looks at the boy.
Isn’t love just grand!