Dimly lit street in Taksim
Breakfast in the greenhouse of the Beylerbeyi Palace
Beylerbeyi Palace entrance
 
Gate to the waterfront in Beylerbeyi Palace
The main room of the reception area
Splendour of Beylerbeyi Palace
Lovely houses along the Bosphorus
 
Breakfast by the Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge
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As I fly in above Turkey, I see the full moon glitter on the dark mass of land, barely illuminated by a few patches of bright city lights clustered along paths of life slithering in this immensity. I am quick to leave the crowd and meet my friend Rusen, who is quietly waiting away from the crowd, leaning against the wall in a typical posture. Inside me, a joy has arisen throughout the flight - now it begins to appear despite my struggle to fully awaken. We meet Rusen's friend Esin, who drives us into the city at a fast and fluid pace. Rusen is pivotal in a conversation that switches from Turkish to English. My memories from Easter 2003 come back to me as we pass along the Sea of Marmara and reach the Sultanahmet area, the heart of the old Istanbul. The lights of the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sofia, and Topkapi Palace shine along the road, unmistakable landmarks of a city that has lived and grown through the ages. We whisk across the Golden Horn, and make our way up along the Bosphorus. I am amazed by how lively the streets are at nearly 3 am. The city is young, the city seems joyful. Along the bank, many bars, restaurants and clubs are still teeming with crowds. My eyes are wide open, as I take in the atmosphere, capture Rusen's words and live the moment. Later, we have returned to Taksim, which I recognise as I see a gloomy tall building in a narrow street. We take a lift to a last floor and end up on a roof terrace club where Istanbul's youth are drinking and dancing away. Across the road, another place is vibrating to the flashing light of a stroboscope. We move on to a bar, half an hour before it closes at 4am. They let us in but will not serve us, so Esin speaks her mind, as someone starts randomly chatting to me in an excellent French. The city is striking. The night has been short. Is it the city bustle that drives my senses to awaken, or my own thirst to see Istanbul arise? I could only compare it to Rome last year, and feel I know why again: Rome was the only city I felt I could prefer to my own Paris. As I contemplate the view, the grey mist is all that appears from between the healthy leaves of a tall tree. Yet I come to realise that is the colour of the Bosphorus, as I see the ripples propagated by the ferryboats joining the two continents. My eyes move up in search for the bank, where they find distant grey buildings and the unmistakable vertical lines of the minarets. To the south, they rest on the admiration of the Süleymaniye Camii, so perfect in its design that it appears to be the hill itself rather than an inspired construction. The greatest structure in Istanbul by Sinan continues to strike me by its magnificence. And still, the distant tooting of the boats blows in the light, fresh wind, and echoes amidst the occasional sounds of traffic. Yes, Istanbul never truly sleeps, but its morning looks sluggish today! We do get on the move and meet up with Nuray to go to breakfast on the Asian side, along the Bosphorus. At the foot of an impressive bridge stretching tall across the Bosphorus, the Beylerbeyi Sarayi was the summer palace of the sultan since the mid-nineteenth century. We eat with a few other friends of Rusen before joining a guided tour of this sumptuous residence. Divided into two parts, the official reception and the private harem, it seems certainly meant to impress any visitor more than to be a comfortable place to escape to and live in. The high waters lick the stone peer gently, and offer a sumptuous setting. Most of the rooms provide a great view, even if the interior is too heavy and baroque for my own liking. The mix of European and Turkish styles announces the decay of the Ottoman Empire, one that was so strong and creative, a fusion of traditions. We move on along the Asian bank to have another snack by the water (Konlica), in a charming area that housed summer residences and retains a quieter atmosphere. Passing showers move us close to passionate backgammon players. Their skill, good humour and experience captivate me - I can only wonder how long they have been playing together. Tariq calls to let us know he has arrived, and we greet him in Taksim. A last glimpse at the Süleymaniye Camii from the top of Nuray's terrace and a few local purchases set us off on our journey.
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Istanbul 