Tuesday, February 10, 2009
To leave Istanbul one has many choices. There is the train right from beneath the streets of Sirkeci at the nexus between the Golden Horn and Bosporus. Reminiscences of the Orient Express are of course excused and thoroughly justified. Then there is the soulless and practical option of taking an international flight but the real beauty comes in the form of the divers choice of ferries to all imaginable destinations in the Bosporus and beyond in the Med and Black Sea. I like how Kara Deniz sounds ... But then Istanbul is so big that like in NY one has the option to turn around, regret, hesitate for a long, long time as the city stretches all over the shores for miles. It is all Istanbul, bridges, ships, shores, waves, hills, lights, mosques and minarets, red flags, shops. All alive and bustling with Istanbulus always erratic, always busy, always away ... traveling in their own city. And us ... coming and going. Returning is not an option is a disease.