M-whY

Joining me was Warren, a Malaysian dude I met in my dorm last night. Together, we walked down to the city ferry terminals. It always seems to be busy around here. Scores of Istanbulites rely on water transport everyday, and consequently, numerous food carts selling everything from roasted chestnuts to doner kebabs to fresh fruit set up shop to provide them with quick eats. Later in the day, fish grilling vendors would appear, making fish sandwiches for whoever could find two lira worth of coins in their pockets. The water today was a lovely shade of turquoise. From terminal three, we bought a pair of tickets and climbed aboard our ferry.

Warren and I took seats in an open air section towards the front of the ship. "It might get cold out here," I noted, but for the first half of the cruise, it wouldn't be that bad. Accompanied by seagulls, we sailed northwards, Europe to our left, Asia to our right. Waterfront property looked rich and luxurious, some of the showing off green, carefully manicured lawns.

"So if our boat sunk, on which continent would the survivors be buried?"

"I don't know, Asia?" guessed Warren.

"No, you don't bury survivors," I responded, and prepared to dodge tomatos.

The strait connecting the Marmara and Black seas measures 30km in length, and is spanned by several towering bridges. Including several stops along the way, the cruise took about two hours one way. The last call was on the Asian side, at a town named Anadolu Kavagi, and here, we had about two hours to explore. Most everyone headed straight up to the Byzantine fortress overlooking the outlet into the Black Sea. Tens of thousands of cargo ships, ocean liners, and tankers pass through the Bosphorous each year, and I found watching them drift by and disappear in the distance inexplicably relaxing.

Sampling fish from the cluster of seafood restaurants near the dock appeared to be the thing to do. Proprietors were out trying to herd tourists into their cafes, and though only a bright neon sign flashing 'Tourist trap' would've been more obvious, I excuse myself for falling for them by reasoning that when it comes down to it, I am a tourist.

"So where do you want to eat? They all look about the same to me."

"They'll probably all be about the same price anyways," agreed Warren, and we picked one with a good view from the terrace. Warren had a woefully meager serving of calamari and mussels - bread crumbs would've been more filling. My sea bass was a bit better, but add to the bill an unexpected charges for bread and service, and I was wishing I had packed a picnic to eat on the fortress instead.

"It's kind of nice to just sit and do nothing sometimes," Warren said as we watched the procession of ships slip by. The ferry stayed docked until 3:00pm, when everyone piled back on board. The heated indoor sections were more attractive on the return trip. The sun disappeared over the Asian horizon by the time we were dropped back off in Europe.

"I think I'm in the mood for one of those fish sandwiches tonight," announced Warren, and so we returned to the ferry terminals later that evening, when the fishing boats returned from sea. "Have you had them before?"

"Yeah. I've eaten like ten of them already." Four lira and half an hour later, that figure now stands at an even dozen!

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