a sky full of wings

Today we crossed greater Istanbul and made it all the way to Sarıyer in one hour— a fantastic feat, as driving anywhere near the city can be a hellish journey through traffic of the worst kind. Spring has officially arrived, and with it, the humming of bees and thousands of birds on their way back from their wintering grounds. As Sarıyer is located on one of the narrowest stretches of the Bosphorus, it is a major bottleneck for soaring birds on the Mediterranean/Black Sea Flyway.

We were prepared. Atilla the Krill Mobile (our noble, yet still slightly smelly car) was packed tightly with binoculars, folding stools, extra layers of clothes, sunscreen, bird guides, sketchbooks, and a telescope. The Dorjee thermos was full of mint tea, and our picnic basket held chocolate, oranges, cookies, and tuna sandwiches (which have become a bit of a birding tradition).



A group of three Turkish birders and a lone Englishman were scanning the sky with binoculars when we arrived at Sarıyer Keskin Viraj, a sharp curve in the road near Koç Universitesi which has some of the best views of the migratory crossing point. Pedro set up the telescope in a little clearing and I poured a cup of tea.

See all those dots in the sky?



In three hours, we saw over five hundred Lesser Spotted Eagles, 51 Short-toed Eagles, 86 Common Buzzards (including one Long-legged Buzzard), thirty Sparrowhawks, one Marsh Harrier, two Black Kites, two Booted Eagles, 116 White Storks, and the highlights: a Black Stork and one massive Imperial Eagle. How amazing is that?

At some point, while following an eagle through the trees, I noticed something that had not been there last year. Across the violet smog, something ominous was taking shape: the third Bosphorus Bridge. I understand the desperate need to alleviate the traffic situation, I do— but what will this bridge ultimately cost?

I remember Istanbul so much greener.



A third bridge, a third airport— there will be nothing left but concrete and thick air. Around two million soaring birds (pelicans, storks, raptors) pass through this point twice a year, every year. Where will they go when airplanes start claiming the sky and there's nowhere safe left to land?

heaven is

The roar of the Atlantic. The smell of wild thyme, rosemary and sea salt. Green hills dotted with violet, blue, magenta, and yellow. Cerulean skies with white wisps of clouds that form elongated fish.



The wind in your hair, the sun on your face. A loved one's laugh.



I'll say it again: Portugal is intoxicating. Now, Spring in Portugal...
My, oh my.

signs of spring

Yesterday marked the first day of Spring— and I almost believed it, as the crocuses were popping their pretty heads up through the soil, but Winter seems reluctant to loosen her hold on Istanbul. The grey persists, and the cold wind whips away evidence that pink blossoms were beginning to bud on our skeletal trees. No, I do not think I'll put away my coat just yet. I did however, see a hopeful sign in the body of a bird; a lone Alpine Swift, arcing through the dismal sky above Tarlabaşı Boulevard. Charm shall return to the city, and the days will stretch into long, warm nights, full of colour.

Today would have been my grandad's birthday.
Today, I got a work permit to teach art.
Today, I think about all the things I am thankful for, and I tell my loved ones how much they mean to me.

Spring is on its way.

the reward of spring

Spring in Istanbul is a most magical time. The hills blush with erguvan and cherry blossoms, and millions of tulips of all hues unfold with a gentle stretch across the city. The bitterness of winter fades from memory as the Bosphorus turns from grey to the deepest blue, and birds mark the sky as they return from their journeys to far-off places. 

blossoming

Sometime during my recovery from what my doctor charmingly referred to as the "goat flu" (as there can't possibly be any swine flu in Muslim countries), Spring decided to unfurl her arms around our grey city. Little green buds and pink blossoms have erupted on bare branches that stretch toward an inconsistent sky— cumulus and cirrus sweep across blues and greys, pinks and peaches. Istanbul in the springtime is a positively magical place; full of colour, birdsong and warmth— and I don't just mean the actual temperature— people's faces are softened, smiles and laughter seem to pop up everywhere, like cherry blossoms.



As my flu winds down and my workload is lightened, I look forward to stepping out in a light printed dress, the sun on my arms and the smell of flowers and sea in my head.
Happy Spring!