A daily journal of our lives (begun in October 2010), in photos (many taken by my wife, Evie) and words, mostly from our home on Chautauqua Lake, in Western New York, where my wife Evie and I live, after my having retired from teaching English for forty-five years in Hawaii, Turkey, and Ohio. We have three children, seven grandchildren, and one great-grandson, as you will notice if you follow my blog since we often travel to visit them. Photo taken from our back porch on 12/05/2024 at 8:53 AM
Friday, October 2, 2009
Ferryboat Ride Up the Bosphorus
We caught the 9:35 ferry to Istiney in the village; it makes six stops, three on the Asia side, so it’s a lvoely way to spend a morning. It’s sunny, a bit hazy, with a nice breeze, and we ended up in Istinye around 10:15. We found a tea house right on the water, with nice shade, and this is where I am sitting as I write this, and recollect last night’s dinner with Muharrem et al. We walked into Emirgan, following the water when possible; Istinye was not much, with little charm, mostly a harbor with larger types of boats, a fish market. We the went to the Sabanci Museum in Emirgan, where we saw a exhibition of Joseph Boeey’s works, not much to our taste really, but some interesting things by his contemporaries. Lots of sketches, lithographs, and very few paintings. We did like one painting called Nightmare, of a women’s head, part of which was a stairs with figures walking up it. Unbelievabe colors, a chartreuse, I think. We spent about an hour, bought a print and are now eating at the hot spot in Emirgan, an outdoor café packed with at least a hundred people called Sutis. I am sure it’s been here for quite awhile, as I remember the location at least from the old days. I am getting my usual, a menemen, and Eive is getting lentil soup. A very modern, hip crowd, one wonders when anyone works around here. We walked up the village a bit, the main street lined with shaded restaurants and tea house for about 50 yards and then it opened up to a typical village like street, sunny and uninteresting. We then walked down the road, braving traffice in areas where there is not promendade, and have stopped at another café on the called the Oba Park Café, right on the water’s edge; we literaally on sitting at a table where we could be fishing. The area is called Bataliman . It is lovely just
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