Snoring is something that people get used to but I have to say that it is difficult until that time comes. It has not yet arrived for me. If Keith snores I poke him and he rolls over and stops. The guy from Mexico City asked me what I thought the protocols were in our night time situation (in a hostel dormitory with two double bunks) and I thought of suggesting he try that remedy on behalf of us all. Instead I nobly pointed out that we might have habits that were robbing our snorer of sleep too, so best to do nothing.
We left it as late as possible to phone Yonah, our grandson, to say happy first birthday but when we called him, Kathryn said that he was out. Probably raging, we thought. We had a deadline because we were taking a boat trip up the Bosphorus and we had to be at the wharf at 10.30. We literally raced down the hill and made it by about half a minute, only to find that it really left at 11.
The Bosphorus is a narrow tract of water joining the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmaris. One side is called the European side and the other is the Asian side. The Bosphorus joins to another narrow waterway, the Golden Horn forming a Y shape, with the stem being the narrow entry to the Sea of Marmaris. Sultanahmet, where we are staying, juts into the join in the Y shape. Looking at a map of Istanbul would make following this section easier.Luckily some other passengers moved up so that we could sit down on the port side of the ferry. The Galata Bridge dominated the skyline with what looked like two tissue boxes attached to it midway along. Keith was busy with the mission of trying to record interesting sounds on my MP3 player for a Canadian who is doing a project involving sound bites from different places, all recorded on May 23rd. I had hoped we could record Yonah responding to his birthday wishes, which was not possible, but Keith had managed to capture the call to prayer. He tried unsuccessfully for the chugging of the boat and the watery swish of the waves and the wake.
The boat was closer to the European side, which we were on, most of the time. There was no commentary and it was difficult trying to locate things in the Lonely Planet Guide and actually enjoy seeing them at the same time. We generally gave up knowing what was what and just admired whatever came along. Some sections were completely built up, while others had stretches of forested hills between settlements. We sailed past extensive palaces and some beautiful houses built right on the water on stone foundations. Some had boat garages under them. At one point there was a fort, and it turned out that there was one on the Eastern side too which was built by Mehmet II, enabling him to control the Bosphorus, which was strategically very important. When Mehmet had tried to take the area, the Byzantines had put chains across the Bosphorus to prevent him. He had organised wood to be brought for rollers to allow his ships to be dragged over land and then put back in the water further up The Golden Horn. He was not called Mehmet the Conqueror for nothing.
We gave up our seats for an English couple who had been standing up until then and were rewarded for our thoughtfulness by more squashing up so that we could all sit down. Dan had been in Istanbul 40 years ago when he was a hippy and he and his wife had both been there 25 years ago. Great sections of the Asian side had not been built on when they visited previously but now Istanbul is growing at a great rate, with new residents coming from other parts of Turkey as well as from many other countries. The population is unknown but is somewhere between 15 and 20 million.
After several stops we landed at Anadolu Kavaĝı on the Asian side. There must be a legitimate village there and there is definitely a military presence, but for all intents and purposes, it appeared that the place existed only to supply fish lunches and ice-creams to the passengers disgorged from the state-operated Bosphorus boat trip. We walked a little way out of the centre and found a bakery, so we were supplied for our picnic. A snake of visitors filed up the road to the ruins of the Genoese castle on the hilltop, weaving in and out of the many restaurants that are on the path where the views start. 
The Bosporus, a beautiful blue, had boats passing up it on their way to the Black Sea, and down it on their way to Istanbul or the Sea of Marmaris. It was only when we stepped through an arch in the castle’s wall that the Black Sea vista was revealed and the excellent position of the fortifications was confirmed.
There is not much castle left, but enough for atmospheric purposes - also for romantic and privacy purposes, since the only sheltered alcove had high school students in their uniforms listening to music and having a cuddle. They seemed oblivious of us and some French people and an American family who were eating within metres of them. The Americans handed out pistachios and we shared our hazelnuts, with a very friendly little international community starting to form. The area is crying out for a little TLC – not to tame it but to clean up the rubbish and empty bins regularly and to clean out the only remaining chamber which was too gross even for young lovers to consider.
We hurried back to be in time for the return trip, only to find out that it was later than we thought. That gave us the opportunity to walk along the Bosphorus banks towards Istanbul and to have a paddle when we got too hot. The boat trip back, sitting on the Asian side, was much less interesting, since we were further from the shore. We saw some large Ottoman buildings, so I told Keith of how the author, Orhan Pamuk, and his friends used to go to fires as an entertainment in the 1960s. At that time many of the old Ottoman mansions, that would now be restored and valued, were falling into disrepair and becoming worthless liabilities. Some burnt by chance and others were assisted, with insurance money being part of the equation sometimes.
Rather than sail back to our starting point, we got off a couple of stops earlier, at Kabataş and looked around, with the intention of finding the tourist office to get a more extensive and easy to read map. We passed the ornate gates of the Dolmabahçe Palace and considered a future visit. 
We hadn’t counted on the steep streets, so the office was shut when we arrived after 5. It was in a very affluent area, where all the hotels were 5 stars and the shops tastefully displayed a few highly expensive items. We walked down to Taksim Square, which is supposed to be the heart of modern Istanbul, while the area we are staying in is the much older, more touristy area. Taksim Square has the Republic Monument in it, with inspiring sculptures of Atatürk leading the Independence War and with the political leaders of the Republic. The other sides show a soldier and some of the people whose lives will be improved – it is a moving monument. 
The other displays in the square, all of tulips (it seems that different artists were asked to contribute a tulip to the display), seem very light-hearted beside it. Tulips are very popular here in decorative motives, and were much favoured by members of the Imperial family. Two tall buildings clad in reflective glass provided interesting reflections of other buildings, which appeared to belong to ‘the little crooked man’.
The food and drink prices around the square seem inflated, probably because millions of people climb the hill to it daily and are hot and hungry when they reach it, or after a long day at work. We walked down the hill through the end of work throng, and we could have been in a Melbourne central city rush hour. 
This feeling left us as soon as we reached the Galata Bridge, examining it for correspondence to Jim’s experience of being bashed and finding it to have all the features he mentioned. His bag had been grabbed by a man just as he reached the bridge, and, since he kept it anchored to one shoulder, he was swung around into a wall. He and his assailant then went flying down a flight of steps to a landing, where Jim was kicked and eventually managed to unbalance his assailant by grabbing his foot and send him hurtling down the lower flight of steps. He then crawled up to the bridge and across it to his hotel, with a bleeding head and broken ribs. A passive watcher stood on the landing throughout. Jim ended up in hospital.It was still daylight when we crossed with plenty of benign people around and masses of tourists. A never-ending stream of traffic raced both ways and fisherman, and a couple of rare fisherwomen, lined the sides. Their long rods dropped lines with multiple baits on them past the restaurants on the tier beneath the bridge and into the water. The ‘tissue box’ structures we had seen on our ferry ride were the steps up from that level at the point where boats could pass under the bridge. Their top parts advertised the fishing regulations and housed a fisheries office. Containers of water behind the fishermen were teeming with small fish that were being hauled up with as many as eight on a line. Two dolphins frolicked in the wake of ferries around the lines. We stopped for ages, watching both the dolphins and the people, moving on a little and watching again from a different angle. Keith tried to catch on camera the elusive moment when a dolphin leapt out of the water. Simit sellers, kebab stands and corn stalls were competing with tiny pavement stalls which sold tissues, toys and lighters. Larger stalls of handbags, t-shirts, spinning tops, mobile phones, scarves, model blue mosques, jewellery and all sorts of items made walking from the bridge to the road overpass a little like traversing an easy maze, with walking speed slowed down by the crowd.
We followed the tram tracks to the park beside Aya Sofia where we joined many people sitting around a stilled fountain and ate our meal. Lots of people paraded around the fountain enjoying the last light of the day. All ages were represented and seemingly all nations and types of people. Everyone was in strolling and smiling mode. An elderly man wheeled along a tripod and set it up at various spots to take photos of Aya Sofia reflected in the water. Once he started, we all realised the potential for fantastic shots, so there was a stream of copy cats, including us. 
He told me that he is especially interested in reflections, not so much for the perfect copy that they can make (although that is one aspect), but more for the interesting distortions that occur. I told him about the reflections in the buildings at Taksim Square and he said he had tried there unsuccessfully and asked when we had visited. People have been so kind and helpful to us and I have resolved to be a lot more thoughtful and helpful in the future, so our conversation on this occasion, which I might not bothered to initiate, was a small step in that direction.I don’t know how it gets late so quickly every day, and after only a short chat with others at the hotel and a pathetic few paragraphs of the blog, I was exhausted and had to find out what was happening in my book, ‘The Story of a Small Town’.
These houses on the waterfront at Anadolu Kavaĝı have their 'garages' on the lower floor to accommodate their boats.
a dramatic revolutionary sculpture on the shore of the Bosphorus
The amount of traffic on the water in Istanbl is truly amazing. It is mostly public transport and it is very cheap and very user friendly. The city is effectively served by three major highways of water that never get congested and it's a pleasure to ride on them - at least at this time of year!
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