Some years ago, I lifted a quote from Degas for the opening of one of my books. “Muses never talk among themselves; each one works in their own domain, and when they aren’t working, they dance.”

I chose that observation, which I found in Gide’s Journals, because it seemed to crystallize my impression of this vast city; all these villages woven, thrown together, with their own distinct character, and yet from a distance, they achieve a desperate, joyous harmony.

Five years later, I think it was the voices of the muses themselves that attracted me – what they didn’t talk about amongst themselves, if you will. As I found myself crisscrossing the Bosporus, wandering through neighborhoods from Beyöğlu to Kadıköy, from Moda to Bebek, from Ortaköy to Üsküdar … I was on the trail of an elusive voice, or voices. What were they saying to me? Where were they going?

They certainly have taken me beyond the city walls of Istanbul, for one thing. They’ve led me to the ancient city of Troy, on the west coast near Çanakkale; they’ve led me to central Anatolia, to Cappadocia, the ancient land of beautiful horses. They’ve coaxed me to escape noisy, crowded summer Istanbul to explore the Black Sea coast. They’ve enticed me to swim in the turquoise-colored waters of the Mediterranean off the coast of Dalyan, and beckoned me to scale the heights of Uludağ, the ancient Olympos.

They’ve spoken to me of mythos, and legend, these muses and places. Degas was right, on that score again. They each had something of their own to say – different from the last – and yet in the palaces and thrift stores of the imagination they came together and danced to the sounds of the sez and tolum, as much as they did the traffic sounds of Istanbul, or the melismatic cadences of the imams.

Finally, they have led me to Özge, my love and light. Özge, which means “rare,” in Turkish. And to her surname as well. Uysal – which means “calm.” Taken together, she is my “rare calm.” Certainly that calm was needed; all my life it seems, strange, chaotic storms have blown in and out of my life, carrying me from Pittsburgh to California, overseas to Europe, to Prague; and rough-and-tumble over the Continent  to this great city.

Perhaps what those muses were telling me, trying to tell me, was that a companion was needed. Over the past couple of years, Özge has joined me, and we have taken many journeys together, most recently to Rome and Florence. And she has lived up to her name, bringing to my life something both unusual and assuring: peace.

But it hasn’t all been easy. I’m accustomed to independence, to going where the wind blows me. At times, I found myself growing uneasy, as our relationship deepened. I got to thinking back about all those persistent, whispering muses that have taken me to so many places. I wondered if, with the prospect of settling down, if they would leave me. It was a lonely thought, for the only constant companions I’ve had over the many years of traveling, has been those voices calling me to different places. It felt as if some essential part of me would suddenly vanish in the night.

But these were selfish thoughts. One thing I am learning about any relationship is that you have to stop thinking just in terms of yourself. Especially now, as Özge and I are set to embark on a new journey together: We’re getting married. This summer, we’ll travel to south Turkey to have an engagement dinner with her family and relatives, and then have the ceremony here in Istanbul in July.

After that, we’re planning a trip to America sometime next year. Özge has always longed to see New York, and having been there myself, I’d delight in being her guide. No, we’d find our own way, as we always do. Then we could meet my family and relatives in Pittsburgh. Beyond that – who knows? Maybe one day we’ll roll into the old, fabled Lost Coast.

The point is, we’ll make the journey together, wherever the muses get together and dance.

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James Tressler is a writer whose books, including “Conversations in Prague,” “Lost Coast D.A.,” and “The Trumpet Fisherman and Other Istanbul Sketches,” can be found at Lulu.com. He lives in Istanbul.