Visiting the Princes of the Marmara

Sounds pretty swanky, right? There weren't actually any princes involved; it just sounded majestic. Anyway. In our tentative planning, we'd decided to take Sunday to explore the Princes' Islands, which are a chain of ferry-accessible islands off the western coast of Istanbul (on the Asian side!!). Our guide book had described them as a good escape from the in-yo'-face hustle 'n' bustle of the city, and as most other places of interest were closed on the Day of Suns AND as there had been much Sun forecasted on this Day, 'twas just the thing! We'd also decided that HEY IT'S VACATION so we slept in a bit. Of course, that meant that by the time we'd awoken (and enjoyed the pretty roses outside of our window - see above), breakfasted, found a grocery store for lunchings, and made our way to the ferry, we only really had time for one island adventure. Out of the four various island stops, we decided to hit the greenest and least touristified of the bunch - the Isle of Heybeliada. Thanks to Sarah's sneaky snaking ferry stealth, we secured seats near the top deck that were open to the sea air and settled in for the about-two-hour journey to the second-to-last island halt.

It was a beautiful day to bounce along one of Istanbul's many shores and we saw many a grand landmark as we made our way east. The Galata Tower, one of the city's many braggabley historical histories, looked very... round and pointy... as it towered over its section of city.

The Topkapi Palace, Hagia Sophia, and Blue Mosque also made their presence known as they dominated the Sultanahmet hill.

The sun played peek-a-boo along the way and we enjoyed watching the sailboats playing on the blue blue blue blue green blue waters of the Marmara Sea.

It started getting chilly after a while, so we were very content when the ferry deposited us on the docks of Heybeliada. We got to exploring immediately. The islands are special in that no automobiles are allowed on them (except for service vehicles and the like). Therefore, one gets around by foot, bike, horse 'n' buggy taksi, or by donkey. I, for one, really wanted a donkey ride, but alas, there were no donkeys to be found. This island in particular was supposedly the greenest of the bunch with a large park covering part of the island. Many of the other islands had disappeared under fancy schmancy houses, yachts, and other rich-people-thangs. In contrast to the over-developed tourist "escapes," some of the other islands actually have unpleasant histories. For example, someone Back in the Day thought it would be a good idea to round up all the stray dogs in Istanbul and stick them out on one tiny uninhabited island to die out. Not a nice idea, actually. We didn't go to that island. Instead, we made our way along the pier and into the park where we picnicked and enjoyed the sunny beams.

I love this one.

There were many locals about who were also taking advantage of the nice weather. They were biking, picnicking, playing volleyball, and feeding the large number of horrifically gigantic seagulls who were just as adept at begging as your typical Fido or Spot under the table. We watched lots of different groups of people walk out to this abandoned tower from where we were schmoozing, so we eventually decided to check it out, too.

I love this one, too.

There wasn't much to the tower, but there was a little path beyond it that led down to the water.

It was getting pretty windy by the water, so we didn't stay long. After successfully using the hole-in-the-ground public bathroom facilities, we headed back to town to wander around there a bit before catching the ferry home. I was surprised by all the wooden houses after having gotten so used to city bricks. It was a nice change. Walking the streets of this town, I was reminded of being in East Germany in the way that many of the homes and buildings had been abandoned or had fallen into disrepair, which caused a sharp contrast when directly next to other buildings that were still in good shape. For example:



We didn't want to miss our ferry as there was only one every couple hours, so we headed back towards the pier, finding some ice cream along the way. We secured window seats again this time, but out of the wind, meaning that we could watch all the caged crowds at further ferry stops pour out of the newly opened gates like sand in an hour glass, each person racing their neighbor to the boat.

The late afternoon sky was glorious and I had such fun watching the big flock of gulls soar alongside our boat. They were much less menacing when there was glass between us and I could relax and enjoy them joyfully playing on the air currents.





We were very sleepy by the time we'd reached the city, but as it was still too early to return to the hostel, we picked up some Turkish fast food (döner für Sarah und fisch für mich) and walked our way back to Sultanahmet where we camped out on the benches in front of the Blue Mosque and waited for the sunset prayer call. A stray cat immediately detected my marine dinner and refused to leave my side, which caused great amusement for some Turkish guys sitting a couple benches away from us. Another cute sight was this little girls who was hopping benches with her mum's help.

The prayer call finally came and we quietly enjoyed the strangely tuned words drenching the city with their magic. It wasn't eerie as much as it was fascinating, what with all the other sounds of the city competing for attention. No, it wasn't eerie until the sunrise call shortly before 5am that crept into my dream before awakening me one morning. One lone voice, shaking and almost wailing in the silent dawn, masterfully controlled and with intonations that my ears were not accustomed to. It sounds quite dramatic, does it not?