The poetic flow of the Bosphorus, Istanbul, Turkey

The poetic flow of the Bosphorus, 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 cocktail party I had been invited to and descended the stairs into the gardens so that I could walk next to the water. 

The marble pier at the Ҫirağan Palace, Istanbul.

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.

 Travel memoirs from the book: My Venice