above, in the grey sky

after hours

At the Grand Bazaar and by the Galata Tower.

birds and powdered orchids

I always wanted to be a bird. As a child, I collected feathers in a secret wooden box, and leapt off walls and swings while vigorously flapping my arms. I took up the trapeze as an adult. As I stood atop Galata Kulesi, cold hands on the even colder railing, I marvelled at the labyrinth of Istanbul spread out below me. Red-tiled crumbling roofs, salmon-walled buildings, grey cobblestones and silvery Bosphorus, Golden Horn and Marmara beneath my feet. Seagulls and jackdaws soared and plummeted in the wintery sky, this, their daily perspective.


After wandering around Beyoğlu all morning, I hopped on a ferry to Kadıköy for a heavenly lunch at Çiya, which has got to be my most favourite restaurant in this city. The waiters and guys behind the counters were so friendly, happy to explain what was in every single dish and offer recommendations. Beet salad and cooked turnip greens, oregano salad, dolmas, something with eggplants, a spicy nut purée— oh! There was this soup with chickpeas, lamb and yoghurt that just enveloped me in warmth— a silver bowl of comfort on a perfect rainy day. Fresh herbs, bold spices and subtle sauces. Every bite was exquisite, every scent a delight.

Belly full and happy, a walk in the icy rain was in order. Fishmongers and grocers called out the names of fish and fruit, as people huddled under umbrellas splashed by.


I warmed my fingers with a paper cup of sahlep on the ferry ride back to Beşiktaş. Sahlep is a hot, sweet beverage made from the ground tubers of orchids. It's thick and delicately flavoured— a flavour hard to describe— a wonderful winter treat.


Even though the minibuses of Istanbul will terrify you with their speed and irritate you with their stuffed-in-a-can sardine feeling, I love them. I love watching people lost in thought. What are they thinking? What worlds live behind their eyes, inside their hearts? When I sketch someone, I hope to feel even the tiniest bit of what they are feeling.

galata kulesi and a few sketches

After I dropped off the illustration I had been working on for a client in Kasımpaşa, I decided that since I was near Galata Kulesi, otherwise known as the Galata tower, I'd pop on over to check it out. I've always seen it from a distance but have never actually been there. It's a landmark that is impossible to miss— a huge cylindrical structure with a cone-shaped roof watching over the Golden Horn. Built in 1348, the the tower stands 66.90 metres tall and is 35 metres above sea-level, which made it the highest structure in Constantinople. Its primary purpose during Ottoman times was watching for fires. When I was little, I believed that it was from Galata Kulesi that Icarus attempted to fly free on his wings of wax.

Before venturing into the tower, I stopped in a café at the base for a tea and tost— toast. I love the phonetic spelling in Turkish! Tost is basically what is known to Americans as grilled cheese. You can get tomatoes in your tost or a tasty spicy sausage called sucuk— which is what I got. There is a café in the tower should you wish to dine with a view, but I haven't tried it.

Climbing to the top of Galata Kulesi will give you one of the most astonishing views of the Bosphorus and Golden Horn. On a clear day, you can see the Marmara sea with all its boats waiting for entry into the strait.



On the left side of the picture below, you can see Hagia Sophia (Aya Sofya in Turkish) on the horizon and Sultanahmet, the Blue Mosque, on the right.


Upon exiting, there was a man with a sweets cart that I couldn't resist purchasing a little fried dough from. This is the Turkish version of a churro, which I am crazy for. The amount of churros I ate back in California is either impressive or embarrassing. Syrupy, doughy, delicious and only 50 kuruş— which according to today's exchange rate is 31 cents. You can't beat that. I'm not sure what this is called, but a shorter form is called tulumba.

Click on the images to see them larger.