The GF woke earlier this morning than usual, and it was a sunny day and I had little work. So after a quick bite to eat, we took the ferry to the Princes’ Islands, a suburb of Istanbul in the Marmara sea. It was a sunny, though slightly hazy morning, and very beautiful, and we were surprised and delighted to see dolphins leaping from the water. I hadn’t known there were dolphins here, leave alone as many as we saw, but further investigation suggests they are fairly common, at least when there is less traffic in the water.
We decided to go to Heybeliada instead of the more usual destination for visitors, Büyükada, as it felt about the right sort of size for a nice day’s stroll. It was very quiet and empty when we arrived: the rows of restaurants also the waterfront were all barred up, and only handful of people were to be seen, fishing or walking dogs. We peeped into one of the restaurants along the way and saw, in the darkest corner, some locals sitting and surreptitiously eating lunch, out of view of the authorities during the lockdown. Then off we went, first through residential streets with mostly-empty houses and up one of the two hills, till we reached some terraced fields and gnarled figtrees with a rather lovely view of the sea and the Asian mainland. Further up, though, and over the peak of the hill, it became really very beautiful, as now the view was towards the sea and other islands, and instead of pretty streets we were in a quiet Mediterranean pine forest. It’s only when one leaves the city one realises how one lives in a background hum of sound. Here, even in the town, there are almost no vehicles, just small electric rickshaws.
This side of the island, facing away from the mainland, was quiet and largely empty. On the paths through the trees we passed only one other couple, though a cat attached itself to us, hoping to be fed. The GF, rashly, paid it some attention and after that it followed us for a good 15 minutes or so, moving between the GF and me, as I carried a bag containing borek. Eventually I gave the borek to the GF, so after that it just followed him.
Further down, there was a nearly circular bay, which looked like there should be pirates or smugglers hiding in it, and eventually a stunted beach with a handful of people. We passed a few old churches and decaying grave monuments – this island was once an important Greek settlement – and on top of the other hill is what was once an important theological school.
We looped around this lobe of the island to return to the settled bit, and streets of (mostly) white-painted wooden Ottoman mansions. Then a faster loop around the other lobe, through a park, and back to the water front to catch the ferry.
We caught a different ferry this time, which stopped at Büyükada and then at Bostanci. The GF, who had woken earlier than is his wont, listened to a podcast and napped a little, while I stared out onto the water and the boats. There was a long stop at Bostanci but finally the ferry took off again, and then I realised it had stopped in the middle of the marina. I turned around and jumped to see it was completely empty, we were the only people on the boat. There seemed to be no one around at all, and it was rather disconcerting as we had just been talking of the Sandman story in which a man wanders into the dream of a city, and perhaps the ferry was moored here for the night.
Luckily, eventually, a young man appeared, holding a glass of tea. He said something in Turkish but, happily, did not seem too annoyed, and the ferry took us back to the shore where it deposited us, feeling quite sheepish, in Bostanci. From here we took a metro and then a tram to Cihangir to get groceries – including some very nice soups and a tiramisu each – and then returned.
There was one final jolt as the tiramisu blew cocoa powder all over my beautiful dressing gown, but happily it was very dry and brushed off completely.
My book continues to be a delight. The protagonist has been sent to a psychoanalyst who has prescribed him a different dream.