Imagine Istanbul

After lunch, the little boy of Istanbul and I had taken a small, yellow taxi to reach Örtaköy, a charming little village of cobblestone streets along the shores of the Bosphorus. Cafés, shops, restaurants, tall wooden houses and markets full of brightly colored things adorn the neighborhood. There sits gracefully along the edge of the water a beautiful mosque, its walls and decorations carved elaborately like the icing of a fairy tale wedding cake.

The people of Istanbul live close to the water of the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn. The sea plays a prominent part of their lives. The constant flow of traffic of the ships and tankers from the Black Sea on their way to the Sea of Marmara, the Aegean and the Mediterranean never ceases. Ferries and cruise ships, sailboats and the noble wooden boats known “goulettes” glide along the waters. Along the banks of the Bosphorus, along Galata Bridge, from every pier and dock, men can be seen fishing for their supper. And the cats of Istanbul are waiting eagerly like hungry beggars for their supper to be tossed to them. They too know, there is nothing more satisfying than a meal of freshly caught fish.

There is nothing more pleasant than evening walks or Sunday strolls of families or secret lovers or tourists along the boardwalk of the Bosphorus. Children play by the sea. Even jellyfish like ghostly blobs, bobbing up and down near the surface, swim in its waters. Restaurants, houses and cafés are built upon the water. The people of Istanbul are never far from the sea that surrounds their lives.

There is always the gentle lapping of the waters of the sea, soothing and enveloping the memories of Istanbul.

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