My house in Kanlica (July 13, 2023)

I am as excited as a toddler presented with a wrapped gift.  Nedim Bey, the subdivision caretaker, just took out the glass patio table and chairs from the basement and placed them in the back yard. His wife, a devout Muslim who wears a headscarf, shined the marble counters. She vacuumed the ornate rugs. Although faded from use, they still serve as jewelry for the hardwood floors. Today,

Alev and her American husband Lawrence will return for their summer visit.  They will throw open the windows and doors to banish the musty odors.

Let me introduce myself.

When you walk into my living room, you will gasp, because the floor-to-ceiling windows gaze onto the Bosphorus, a slithering snake which slices Europe from Asia. Across the mile-and-a-half wide waters, you will spot the village of Arnavutkoy. Boats ferry Istanbullus back and forth.

I sit on a precipice on the Asian side of Istanbul, the city that Sultan Mehmet II conquered against all odds from the Byzantines in 1453. At the age of 21, his canon exploded the walls of Theodosius, which had protected Constantinople from marauders for centuries. Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge, also known as the Second Bridge, crosses the Bosphorus near here.

Step closer, swing open the doors, and walk onto the patio like a secret djinn. Ignore the broken slabs of marble, like you did in Ephesus. Remember, Ottoman cayiks once swept through these waters as gracefully as concubines entertaining the Padishah.

A field of blue revives you and you notice the strong current.  Seven boys swim in the brackish water, their heads bobbing to the left. They say the top layer flows to the Marmara Sea and the lower one flows north to the Black Sea.  An enormous rusty tanker and a ferry honk their horns, perhaps to warn the boys, perhaps to say hello. The freighter heads out to the mysteries of the Black Sea.

These are the sights I notice through the summer heat, which sizzles like a broiling steak. If you sit on the metal chair under the overhanging, full magnolia tree, you will feel refreshed by the sea air. The negative ions act as antidepressants. Soon, the call to prayer will drift through here, mesmerizing as a pendulum. Feel the breeze wafting past you and listen to the spirits of the ages.

I am only 37 years old, having been built in the 1980s, but I look much older.  Yes, I have good bones, air-conditioning, and sea views, but look closer and you’ll see the chewed-up wood frames, the glass leaning precariously in the front portico, the stuck wooden shutters. The house next door also has an atrium, but it protects several plants and a desk from the elements. My portico is empty except for the industrious spiders that spin their webs on the walls.

Recently, a radiator repair in the living room resulted in the wall of mirrors cracking in the corner.  In the entry, another mirror wall is askew, and my owners worry that it will fall. Time to call the aynaci, the mirror person, but there’s no agreement.  Who will pay?  Which owner?  They have

bickered since my original masters passed away more than seven years ago. Ay! And yet, I am still a magical place, with front row seats to the cruise boats whose occupants sing loudly until 2 or 3 in the morning. Upstairs, the master bedroom faces the strait, and I can hear the revelers celebrating life.  In my country, joy is more important than work.

Guests stay on the second floor in one of two rooms.  The sofa bed in the den, covered in blue velvet print like the bar-stools downstairs, provides rest for some.  Dusty books line the shelves along the bottom of the windows.  In the bookcase, you will find at least two Ph.D. theses. If you open the tiny built-in desk, you will note blueprints from my incipience.

The other guest room glows from its hardwood floors and a balcony overseeing the guvenlik, the green security building. Nedim Bey and his staff stand there to open the electric gate for cars or pedestrians who live here in Hekimler Sitesi, the city of doctors. Lately, Bosphorus fishermen have been leaving their cars along Hekimler SitesiStreet while they throw their lines into the waters. I

store a fishing pole in the entryway closet, but nobody takes it out anymore.

My people come for three weeks at a time. Nedim Bey oversaw the installation of a new gas stove, but they argued over gas or electric. The brothers refuse to pay for gas. They don’t want an electric stove, either, preferring an induction hot plate. The sisters buy the stove, and the brothers send meaningless cease and desist letters, out of spite. Nedim Bey quotes the Koran and says the delinquent brothers should know that “there is a heaven, but there is also a hell.”  The sisters take some comfort in that saying.

They all appreciate me, but soon they return to their faraway homes, like Bedouins who must wander. Let them go. It’s quieter here when they leave.                                                                                                                

Off the beaten track

Here are some little-known Turkish delights which might tempt you to come to Istanbul. Be warned that 16 million people live here, and a few days are not enough to fathom its riches, despite what the tour operators tell you. Beyond the Blue Mosque, the Aya Sofia, the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market, these places will help you taste the flavors of the sultans: 

Kucuksu Kasri (Little Waters Pavilion) on the Asian side

         Visitors pass through crunchy white gravel to get to the sweeping staircase fit for a sultan. This romantic 19^thcentury neo-baroque building served as a lodge where the sovereign’s retinue prepared to hunt. Built for Sultan Abdulmecid in 1856, the station is a small palace with exquisite carvings and a white filigreed gate which stays closed to the public.  Inside, magnificent rugs cover the floors, each room draped in vivid colors. It’s hard to imagine anyone sitting on the delicate brocade- covered chairs. The material appears fresh, as if almost two hundred years had not passed. Each room has a purpose: there’s a meeting room with a desk in the middle, a parlor, and two large, tiled toilets that feel like a hammam, or Turkish bath.

         An idyllic garden surrounds the pavilion, and when you come, you will see women and children lolling on the grass, smelling the fragrant flowers. Next door, the city has built a café with good views and reasonable prices.

Further down the same street, the Sabanci Ogretmen Evi, a pension for teachers on vacation, offers an outdoor restaurant serving time-honored Turkish favorites like sis kebab and mezes, or hors d’oeuvres.

Right on the Bosphorus, the restaurant has the exquisite views of Rumeli Hisar, the Roman fortress. The waiters call guests “hoca,” or teacher, but the public is welcome here. We had Kofte, little meatballs, as well as chicken sis, watching the children play. One man sitting right up to the glass wall dangled his boy upside down, tempting fate.

Yeni Lokanti (means New Restaurant )

Near the famed Istiklal Caddesi(Republic Street), Yeni’s address is Kumbarci Yokusu, or Piggybank Ramp. The street starts at an almost 90-degree slope, making pedestrians look comical as they walk diagonally, like Wimpy in Popeye.  Once inside the tiled building, choose from a Michelin-starred menu.  Order a seven-course tasting menu or eat a la carte. The ambience is low-key, but beware the street noise, which causes at least one couple to move closer to the kitchen while we are there. 

Yenilokanti

“Step closer, swing open the doors”