Ortaköy
We had lattes at a cafe facing the Asian side of Istanbul. Next door, beyond the tiny square with a fluttering fountain, was a mosque, its minarets poking the sky so that all the yellows and pinks oozed through.
On one of my last days in Istanbul, I visited my old boss Çem in his hideout at Ortaköy. It's the modern Istanbul that Turkey doesn't sell often enough.
Why should they? Stick all the tourists in one place, better to manage all those carpet shops, apple tea cafes and perfectly planned potted plants.
Ok – I'll stop about the tourist traps. It's really lovely, actually – sorta like getting heady with an intoxicant – you know you're in for a ride outside of your control, but at least it's a pleasant one.. perhaps with negative side effects (loss of brain cells : lighter wallet) but so what?
Took the metro to Eminonöu wharf. Then the ferry up. Transfer. And another ferry up to Ortaköy. Or take a winding bus. Or. Taxi it.
We had lattes at a cafe facing the Asian side of Istanbul. Next door, beyond the tiny square with a fluttering fountain, was a mosque, its minarets poking the sky so that all the yellows and pinks oozed through. Fishing boats flapped against the plaza. Blue waves slapped against the fishing boats. Men (in those beguiling trilbies and Gatsbies again) sat on benches and puffed on their pipes. A couple of kids tottered and ran across the cobblestone, scattering the flock of flying rats – I mean pigeons – into a rush of coo-coo's.
Upstairs, the waiters were laying the tables for a haute Italian restaurant. Downstairs, a sushi restaurant (or so we were told) was getting ready.
Our fellow coffee-enthusiasts were all well-to-do Turks – no tourists in sight – who embellished their rapid-staccatoed dialogues with quick verbal jabs into omni-present cell-phones.
And Çem, after a couple of hours, had to take a conference call as the sun finally dipped into the azurite blankets.
We took a walk around – and discovered: balconies that dripped with roses, fences that hid branches heavy with peaches, and voila (!) 'mussel with pilaf' stands! I got a picture taken with the mussel guy who thrust morsels one after another into my mouth. He demanded a picture with Yuppie Nomad too, before sending us off with: Konichiwa! Sayonora!
In the end, we had a dinner of eggplant and tomato mezzes at a small little restaurant decked out entirely in Ikea furnishings. Seriously, it was the sea-themed catalog, page 7 or 9.
A glimpse into Yuppie Turkey? Just a bit.