Rosalyn D'mello: A place beyond my touristic grasp

The Golden Horn as seen from the Fatih Mosque PICRosalyn DmelloI wasnt ready to leave Istanbul possibly because I knew the sixmonth evisa offered the undeniably irresistible option of staying I hadnt had enough of the turquoise swell of the Bosphorus the narrow strait that forms a liquid boundary between the continents of Asia and Europe despite dedicating at least six hours on a boat ride past the three bridges that connect the land masses towards the Black Sea thoroughly amazed by the sheer number of Dolphin sightingsI even halfencountered my deeprooted fear of the boundlessness of the sea by clutching onto the diving ladder at the edge of our boat and immersing myself in the waters embrace not letting go but floating in a measured guarded way I know this is the final frontier for me overcoming my fear of oceanic depths my need to feel the sureness of the ground beneath my feet when not on land My presence in Istanbul was the premise for the boat rideMy friend Aslis friend Bilgen bandied together a large enough group so we could hire our own boat It was a moment of privilege being cast among a bunch of amazing people all Turkish all with a penchant towards celebration all eager to sip on roseacute white wine and every other liquor we had carried on us while posing for photoops The conversations when not intellectually stimulating were rife with laughter We even bore witness to the rare spectacle of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogans boat with its accompanying parade of coast guard vessels spewing water nonstop to ward off the paparazzi or so we imaginedBilgen whom Id met along with Roberto and Byron when theyd come over to the island of Buyukada the evening I was cooking dinner had concocted the perfect alibi for me to stay I was to open an IndoTurkish fusion bistro called Namaste Inshallah I loved the sound of it I imagine Id locate it somewhere near the Galata Tower close to my friend Mehuls apartment building just so I could drop in every other day to soak in the insanely spectacular view of the golden horn from his balconyBetween the four countries I visited in the 30day span of my trip I had given myself the most time in Istanbul and yet the city seemed beyond my touristic grasp I didnt expect to be outdone by its manylayered histories I couldnt have fathomed how much there was to see and experience Even a lifetime could prove insufficient Having said this when Bilgen Byron and I emerged from our visit to the Hagia Sophia Bilgen said something quite pertinent that even if you were to fly in to Istanbul just to have some baklava and see the Hagia Sophia it would be a worthwhile trip He was not wrong and his statement made me feel blessed about being able to see much more In fact because my coming to Istanbul was the result of an invitation by Asli whom Id met during the Khoj International Residency in Goa you could argue that I saw a different side of the city I was compelled to witness it through the lens of the other artists I encountered thanks to her Had it not been for Hera BuyshyuktaAringu00c2u009fccedilAumlplusmnyans recommendation for instance Id have probably missshyed seshyeshying the impressive mosaics at Chora Monastery outside which I met an Armenian shopkeeper who told me about the Fatih Mosque poised on the hill upon which is the historic Balat neighborhood through which I walked until I came upon the promenade of the Golden Horn and watched Turkish families delighting in early evening barbecues and itinerant fishermen plunging their rods into the water hopeful for a catchThe evening before after our boat ride when Asli and I got onto the ferry to return to Buyukada we learned about a longtime tradition called the Fish Lottery A man went from passenger to passenger with a sheet of paper and a cold storage unit full of freshly caught fish For 10 Lira you could book up to four numbers When it was time the man in question would use a deck of playing cards to draw out the winning number If you were lucky you would be handed all his fishHaving been to Istanbul I can now comprehend why Orhan Pamuk engineered the Museum of Innocence as a grand gesture to his eponymous novel Objects are things of historic import and upon their inanimate souls are imprinted the weight of collective memory Im still absorbing everything I saw and heard and ate and smelled and felt during my ten days in Istanbul I know I must find ways of returning One lifetime is not enoughDeliberating on the life and times of Everywoman Rosalyn DMello is a reputed art critic and the author of A Handbook For My Lover She tweets RosaParx Send your feedback to mailbagmiddaycom