We went furniture shopping and it was a surprisingly pleasant experience, though we didn’t actually find anything we urgently need (a small dining table, a bed, a fold-out bed, a wardrobe, a comfortable chair). We were going to a warehousey sort of place that does up old furniture and provides to film and TV sets, up in Maslak. There was no straightforward way to get there, but then we realised that a ferry, leaving every hour, would go up the Bosphorus and take an hour to get to within a 20 minute walk. So we took that rather beautiful ferry ride. The boat hugged the European side, so you got splendid views of Dolmabahce and Rumeli Hisari, etc, but also a lovely view across to the waterside mansions on the Asian side, and of immense container ships passing through to the Black Sea. We disembarked at Istinye, a tiny port and then walked up to Yenikoy, one of the seaside neighbourhoods where we’d decided to go to a brunch restaurant I must have pinned at some point in the past.
This turned out to not be a brunch place at all, but a really excellent casual fine dining sort of place. So we had our second high end meal in a row, but this time in a fairly casual setup, no men in business suits or coiffeured blondes, and the food was superb. Where the place last night felt to me it was good but wasn’t taking any risks, this one had a way with bringing together flavours that felt fresh and perfectly judged. Really superb and one to return to. I must say, these two meals have made me feel like a freshly watered plant.
Feeling the day was already a great success – a beautiful boat ride and a good meal – we walked on to the furniture shop. It was about 25 minutes away, over some hills, past steep graveyards and though quiet residential streets, also extremely pleasant. Then we descended from the short steep hills that line the Bosphorus to cross a big road and enter the shopping plaza – the kind with immense warehousey shops – where the furniture emporium was located. Here, we found generally a very pleasant sort of shop, with several things we liked, though few that we liked well enough and that would fit in our spaces. Eventually we bought a small coffee table, a floor lamp and one of those ladders you can use as as a towel rack. Then the difficulty of bringing them home, as it was dark by now and every taxi driver asked where we were going and refused to take us to Galata. So we arranged for a delivery and then walked out in the night to find a taxi. Eventually we did, and it was a blessedly simple, professional interaction. He took us to the metro station, without refusing to turn on the meter or taking an unusually circuitous route. We gave him a good tip. And done. An unusually smooth transaction with the taxi drivers of Istanbul, who are amongst the least loved people in this country these days.