ISTANBUL Prince Islands OCTOBER 2014
We have arrived on the serene and adorable Burgaz island. My friend Aytul and I walk from the dock up the hill for 1/2 km to the Teachers' guest house making use of an old 3-story mansion built on the first landing of the cliff commanding the Marmara sea gently but surely. Since government workers' salary is much less compared to private business owners in Turkey, all government workers enjoy a benefit that the government provides: Homes are purchased especially in locations that government workers with professional training such as teachers, doctors, military personnel frequent by the government. They are then arranged as mini hotels offering affordable prices for government workers to stay at during their travels. Aytul and I will share a room with Sukruye, who is an attorney. We are pleasant with our simple but clean room, which has a view of the Marmara!
The group in front of Ogretmenevi (Teacher's house) on Burgaz...
The group is ecstatic to be meeting at the second story restaurant spreading on a terrace with full view of the sea. Hugs and kisses, strolling arm in arm or sitting hand in hand are clear indications of how much they care about each other. I know how quickly catch-up is done in groups with such strong bonds to update one another on the happenings of the past year(s). Once that is done, they will continue as if that distance in time never existed just as I did the week before with my best friends of 25-55 years.
Burgaz island and its ruler: unforgettable seagulls...
There are engineers, attorneys, physicians, teachers, business women, architects, public health professionals, university faculty among them. Guler is one of the several painters in the group, painting water-color paintings; impressionistic style. She will paint multiple scenes from the island throughout the weekend. Canan is another artist in the group, who is one of the founders of the Ankara Women Painters' Association.
One of Guler's paintings of Burgazada
Through this association, they have been able to hold exhibitions both nationally and internationally. Whoever I talk to turns out to be a very successful woman, who are all a remarkable testimony to what Ataturk, the founder of the modern Turkish Republic allowed and encouraged us, women of Turkiye to become. I can't help thinking what religious fundamentalism, as mild as they present themselves to the world stage to be has in its agenda for such free thinking, liberal women, who choose and are able to stand as strong as their men in the society... 
Bright, liberal women of Turkey are enjoying a weekend get together...When, we have a phenomenally fun evening over our dinner-prolonge, singing and dancing in-between dishes, I wonder what Tayyip Erdogan and his followers would make of us: Would they simply smile just as some people at the restaurant will do and even join us, would they send our way frowning looks and say silently "May God resurrect you!", would they grudgingly murmur to themselves "Wait, it won't be too long that you will never be able to sin like this in public when we have full control of this sinful society!" or would one of them be even more aggressive than that and tell us "Don't you have any shame and honor, cut it out and go home" calling us even some names. Unfortunately, all shades of such reactions are taking place in Turkey as we speak, depending on the location.
Flat island from Kalpazankaya recrational area on Burgaz..
Once we are all established at the guesthouse, we all decide to go to Kalpazankaya. Kalpazankaya, I learn is a recreational area at the northwest corner of the island. It is indeed beautiful, well preserved, with arugula gardens in which the staff has been growing various greens. As I explore the premise, I notice an elderly man sprinkling ash from the wood burning stove used for cooking over the borders of the veggie gardens. I discover when I ask him whether this is to fertilize the veggies, that he is doing this to keep the snails away from arugula! Here is organic gardening for us all, who would know? The gardener's name is Hakki, he tells me he has worked at this facility, owned by an Istanbulite family for the last generations. He is proud to have worked for the grandfather, the father and the son, the latter of which is the current owner. I hope this means his employers have been good to him all along, over 40 years, he tells me.
We settle down to start enjoying Turkish coffee while savoring the layers of vistas: the first layer is the cliff sharply dropping to the mini-cove right below us. The second to our left is the Yassiada and Sharp Island. The third is the Kinaliada to our right. Finally, south end of the Asian bank of the Bosphorus and Istanbul skyline in the distance.... We decide to have our lunch at Kalpazankaya as well. Before lunch, I go to the map at the entrance of the gardens and draw a copy of it on a piece of paper knowing there will be no island maps available to visitors, no visitor's center, either.
By the time I come back to where my friends are, they have already started ordering a veggie-fish platter. Our combo platters include roasted/mashed local eggplants, fava patte made of fava beans, dill, green onions, and "rock sour", a wild green that staff forages off the rocks down below on the beach! In addition to these vegetable mezes (tapas), we are served three fish based mezes: Each one made of different fish in different cooking style. One is pickled, the other smoked, and the last one salted. Veggies were great, fish was OK, however, I am pretty prejudiced when it comes to fish: Grilled, baked, or fried with only olive oil and lemon, not much else... My friends enjoyed it all.
Our fish platter...
After lunch, I decide to explore the path to the namesake cave of the recreational facility I see on the map I studied. I ask our waiters where the trailhead starts. Although they are helpful, there is also an expression of bewilderment on their faces. The first reaction from each is a blunt "You can't do it!" My response is a mellow "...and why is that?" A variety of "It is too difficult", "It is too far away", "the path is too narrow". I am not convinced that I can't do it. But I don't want to dismiss them, either. "That's OK, tell me where the path is, I'll try, if it is too dangerous, I won't take risks, don't worry". With a frustrated shrug, they point to the beach.
Turkish style fundemetalism: Even under burka is a woman posing for her fiancee, unacceptable in other Islamic countries...
As I keep thinking about their reaction, it dawns on me: It is my white hair! In their eyes, I am an old woman. Each one of them is in their 20s to 30s. Furthermore they clearly come from the southeast of Turkey with their unique accent. I bet their grandmothers are younger than I. Southeast of Turkey has one of the most conservative gender role designations in Turkey. Thus, in these young men's eyes, a woman with white hair, in their 50s at least, being a grandmother for years if not decades belong to their homes getting ready for their death, not roaming the world like I do, not at all, climbing up on rocks! Of course to them "Is this old auntie out of her mind? She'll fall and break her neck!"
When I share my interpretation of the waiters' fear about my hike, my friend Aytul and I have a good chuckle...
I smile and head down the cliff. Yes the path meanders along the coast sometimes over the boulders sometimes on a gravel trail. And yes, in certain parts, the trail has eroded to non-existence. I end up climbing down the rocks to the very shore before climbing back up to the trail when it reappears. At some point, I catch a glimpse of four black birds with tall bodies perched over a boulder in the water, one of many different kinds of birds I will see on the islands in the next few days. I decide to sit on the rocks to savor multiple sensory stimuli the nature is pouring over me:
They look like the great blue heron of North America, except they are black...
The birds are sitting as still as statues on the boulder without any reaction to me or to the boats passing by. In that stillness there is both an elegance but also art... The Marmara is playful today under the northern sun. Instead of the harsh roar that I have seen her come onto both the shores of Istanbul and the Buyukada with, today, she is very benevolent and mellow. I hear her almost sing a romantic tune in her embrace of the rocks all around me. The sun is soothing, I feel her warmth almost in my bones. At the end of October, what a pleasant feeling...
On my way to the Cave on Burgaz...
As I come up the hill to turn around a corner, I am surprised with a concrete armchair clearly made by pouring concrete onto the rocks naturally part of the beach. Somebody has carved "In honor of Toprak Dede - Grandpa Earth". I am somewhat confused: Earth has been used as a male name for the last half century. Is this structure truly in honor of a man, who might have come here with some regularity to enjoy the beauty of the Marmara? Or is it a tribute to our ailing earth. In two days, I will ask our waiter this with no clarifying answer.
Concrete chair on the beach, dedicated to Toprak Dede...
Once I turn around the corner, I see the cave. This is southwestern-most corner of the island. It took only 20 minutes of a hike. Its dark, hollow mouth clearly allows the sea thrust into its depth since the cave entrance is crowded with plastic debris, bottles, residues of various paraphernalia. I am saddened with the view, decide not to go down all the way to the entrance. Instead, I head back, taking numerous pictures of the magic before my eyes; the rocks, the waves, the plants, the birds, the Flat island, where several political prisoners spent some days under lock at certain points in time in Turkish history.
THE Cave on Burgaz...
When I arrive on the beach below Kalpazankaya facility, my friends have also found their way down to the beach. Aytul, my friend of 25 years is foraging for rock sour, which we have just eaten, a gourmet dish of late in Turkish cuisine. I join in and find unexpectedly wild fennel, too! Wild fennel is another gourmet dish in Cretan cuisine, which is a rarity since the plant grows under thorny bushes and around rocky terrain. I never thought, one could find it on the rocks of a shore. Never say never. I climb over the vertical boulder between the beach and the sea using the convenient indentations on its face that serve as steps. High up again, away from the crowd, I listen to the waves, watch the clouds hurry away toward Kinaliada, savor the way sun shines over the most urban skyline in the country, bringing a more benevolent feel to this city, with which somehow I have never been at peace with despite all its beauty... Istanbul is just 15 minutes away from where I am right now.
Istanbul so far away yet so very close...
I turn my attention to where I am and murmur to myself "I could easily live on an island like this after retirement, where there is no cars, movement is either on foot or by bikes or horse carriages, where people talk to one another readily and generously in different languages, accents, where all religions and no religion can coexist side by side. The beauty is to be able to access urban life, get re-energized when I need to touch city life. I could easily live in a place like this."
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| Burgazada at dusk, benevolent, romantic, inviting... |
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