I don’t know any Muslims in real life and only a handful online, all of which are decent people.
My most memorable encounter with Muslim people was when a few years ago we visited Istanbul during the Ramadan. Part of the reason that Istanbul is now among my favorite cities, is its Muslim population. It’s a well known fact that Hungarians like Turks, despite the 150-year Turkish occupation in Hungary during the middle ages. The feeling is mutual; Turks also like Hungarians. Enough to learn our language, a language that’s not only difficult for people who were not born with it, but also one that few non-Hungarians speak. It’s a novelty, and a very pleasant one. People whose native language is English, Spanish, French, or German are accustomed to hear their language spoken by non-native speakers, but for Hungarians it’s a novelty. Turkish and Hungarian are not similar, though we have some loan words from Turkish, like sapka, meaning cap, as in hat and not the cap of a bottle; and bögre, meaning mug, as in coffee mug. I don’t speak Turkish, but seeing the written language often made me do a double take, because it seemed that I could almost read it. It’s mostly due to the double dot accents on their ö and ü vowels, which Hungarian also has in abundance.
The other reason Istanbul is one of my favorite cities is its history, architecture, and culture, so we stayed in the Old City and explored many of its wonders: the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the Topkapi Palace, the Grand Bazaar, the numerous restaurants that served local food. When I visit a country, I want to eat local food and not American or Hungarian. I like Middle Eastern spices, so I found the meat dishes very tasty. But the fresh salads with tomatoes that tasted like tomatoes should, the lemon and parsley dressings, the hollow sesame bread Lavas were delightful. Most everything we ate was wonderful. Except the desserts, which I found way too sweet, and no pun intended, but the Turkish Delight was less than delightful.
Last but not least it was the sheer friendliness of people that made the Istanbul visit so memorable. We spent some time (resting between visits to various attractions), at the park facing the Blue Mosque, just people watching or walking around. Several times people approached us, mostly young men, teenagers with bright smiles on their faces, just talking, asking about us and telling us about themselves, and finally asking timidly if we could shake hands. No one has ever asked permission to shake my hand before. People usually just stick out their hand out of politeness, because it’s the western way to greet a stranger. In Istanbul it went beyond formality; it was simple and earnest, just a wish to make a brief connection.