The poetic flow of the Bosphorus, Istanbul, Turkey
Later that morning in Venice, I set off for Torcello. I took the vaporetto from the pier at San Zaccaria which, so often, called to mind the pier at Beşiktaş in Istanbul: they so resemble each other because of the perpetual movement of boats. Most of all, though, it was the seagulls. One day, I encountered my Venetian seagull while walking next to the water on the Bosphorus.
Istanbul is not as good for solitary walks as Venice is – in my heart of hearts, the two cities have a mother-daughter relationship, but there are protected places in Istanbul where you can walk. Late one afternoon I was at the Ҫirağan Palace. I left the cocktaiI party I had been invited to and descended the stairs into the gardens so that I could walk next to the water. A seagull, standing on a post, kept looking my way, as if awaiting me. I approached it and it stretched out its wings and soared upwards, flying high towards the Asian side of the Bosphorus. It then executed a perfect arch and returned to the European shore without ever reducing speed, settling back on the post in the Sultan’s marble pier.
“Wow!” I thought to myself, and returned to the palace gardens.
The currents of the Bosphorus are quite dangerous, but I find their flow poetic. They separate two continents. On the other hand, the lagoon in Venice, just a dot on a world map, make me feel as if I am travelling to the ends of the Earth…
An excerpt from the book MY VENICE