The Bosphorus Canal and the Golden Horn cut up Istanbul into distinct sections. Frequent ferries connect the European side with the Asian side, and if I had had more time I would have spent an afternoon just riding the boat back and forth, enjoying the smell of the sea and the sound of the seagulls chasing us.
We Are Wolves – Blue
Tennis – Cape Dory
Walking across the Galata Bridge, which spans the Golden Horn, brings the somewhat less invigorating smell of fish. Every day men lined up along the entire length of the bridge with fishing rods and radios and buckets of bait. While walking underneath the bridge one day, I stopped to take a picture from below of someone reeling in a small fish. I stood at the railing, and just as I was taking the picture, someone above me abruptly pulled up their reel and I was smacked with a large piece of mushy bread that got all over my leg and shoes. A group of young Turkish men found it funny, but they were kind enough to not laugh until they saw me doing so, too.
Warpaint – Undertow