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?

grey, grey, grey

To say that winter is bleak in Istanbul, is an understatement. It is downright depressing. The sky is grey, the city is grey, the people are grey. I used to find a poetry in the mournfulness, in the huzun, but currently, I am in a terrible state of unrest. My toes can't seem to warm, there's a rattle in my chest, and the grumpiness of the people on the street is souring my mood. A few days ago, it was nearly spring weather— so warm in fact, that crocuses popped up their heads towards the pale sun. We have since descended back into that wet, bone-chilling gloom, and there is an inexplicable amount of mud.



What else can you do but wait?
Wait, and have another çay.

a winged escort

on last month's trip to Büyükada.

revenge

It was the perfect day for sketching— the sky was a deep cerulean, the sun was warm, and the little çaybahçe across the street from Dolmabahçe Palace had a wide array of empty tables near its free-range fat chickens. As I was about to make my move to order some kahve from the guy in the window, a stern foreigner cut in front of me. I threw up my hands in a gesture of disbelief, then had an idea.

I could draw a revenge portrait.

Pedro was in favour of this idea, and so we selected a table uncomfortably near the rude line-cutter. Giggling, we pulled out our sketchbooks and various utensils, and set to work with a glare. It wasn't long before we were discovered by our victim, whose girlfriend was eyeing us. After attempting to dissuade us with futile stares, the line-cutter shifted his body, pointing his back at us. Several minutes later, his girlfriend boldly confronted us on her way to the bathroom.

"Did you draw any others?" She asked.
"No, only him."
"Why?"
"This is a revenge drawing— you see, he cut in line in front of us."

Inspecting our sketches, she pointed out that Pedro's portrait looked more accurate, and that mine was marked with more anger. I explained in laughter that it was an exaggeration.

"Don't show it to him!"

a wonderful week

I've got the left and Pedro, the right.
Gulls photo by PeF.

marmara's mouth

Running some errands in Asia today.

from asia to europe

Crossing the Bosphorus Bridge during the 33rd Intercontinental Eurasian Marathon.

lovely day

A çay on the ferry to Asia.

A feast of cherry kebap, aubergine stew, lamb intestines stuffed with barley and a mysterious kebap with pomegranate sauce at Çiya.

Fishermen on the Galata bridge catch something unexpected.

water and sky

the things i saw today

Having been cooped up indoors for far too long, a simple walk becomes a sensory explosion— the heavy, dull smell of burning coal, the soft scent of snow in the clouds, the brine of the sea... My childhood comes flooding back into the forefront of my brain as these scents and that green, green of the Bosphorus melt into a blur of synaesthesia.

Life has carried on in my absence— always a bit shocking but never disappointing; the yellow house is now tragically white, and the blue barrels are now on the right-hand side of the road. Boats with different names bob silently in the green waves. I feel like I've been reunited with a long-lost love— forgotten contours and fuzzy details now clear.

As I feel the comfort of cold cobblestone beneath my thin sole, I can't help but spread a wide grin across my winter-stung face.

It feels so good.

city of grey

by the sea