In which Princess Stefanie visits the Prince's Islands and meets a Prince Charming

This morning, we lounged around debating what to do for a while.  What a great luxury to have a vacation in one city for more than 24 hours. After all of my stefonstuff.blogspot.com study abroad adventures, I got used to the 2-day city blitz, where every 30 minute block had a new museum, park, train, gelato etc... In Istanbul, we sit around, shootin' the shit over coffee and tea, debating if the sun will ever come out.

By 10:30, on the cusp of being too late to do anything at all, we got moving and decided to skip Dolmahbace Palace and head straight for Kabatas Port for a one-day vacation to Prince's Islands.

We didn't even pick an island until we were already on the boat - that's how indecisive we are.

On the way to the port, my aunt stopped to pick up some cash in an illegal drug deal JUSTKIDDING but that's what the neighborhood looked like. While she got the dough for some photography and design work, we peered through the windows of her friend Christopher's design studio and watched some men unload a catering truckload of baklava. I actually don't know what the food was, but I hope it was baklava because baklava is totally delicious, particularly in mass quantities.

We continued on, passing my aunt's yoga studio, tucked above the local Little Caesars, which my mom found quite lamentable that such an awful pizza chain would (mis)represent our nation overseas.

On this quite leisurely walk down, I bought some tights, and continued to not know any Turkish, making local transactions just impossible. Notably, the store played old school Justin Timberlake in the background (Cry Me a River), so I was even more distracted when the shopkeeper tried to talk to me.

Next, with just 35 minutes to the ferry we were planning to take, I insisted we walk to a waterfront mosque down the road, next to a gas station. Classy.

Little boy, who do you think you are,
running past the gate? And making a great picture.

This turned out to be an awesome pick - Dolmabahce Mosque, the religious space next to Ataturk's final palace, where the clock has been set to the moment of his death...in 1938. As I deshoed at the doorway and stepped up in my new signature headscarf look, a security guard grilled me with the words, "Jami! Jami!" And I wanted to say, "I dont know what you're saying!?!?" but then he wouldn't know what I was saying either, so I decided to just smile and step back and avoid doubling miscommunication. We entered the small mosque to find an incredible chandelier and a small tour group.

We booked it back to the dock and got on the boat to the islands. Just 3.50 tl (under $2) to travel to a land of beaches and palm trees, the boat ride also offers sesame bagels, which people buy to throw at an attacking flock of seagulls, for the duration of an 80 min water cruise. These long distance water taxis take you through the Golden Horn, Bosphorus, and out into the Marmara Sea and have actual destinations - much better deals than the frequently-assaulting vendors offer for 'Bosphorus Cruise, 20 euro'.

Onboard, my mom made a buddy in the next seat over, our new friend Bara'a. He's an English teacher in the southern Turkish city of Gaziantep who introduced himself as, "From Syria, unfortunately." He had gotten a degree in English Lit at University of Aleppo, the city where he grew up as one of seven children. Syria is not the place to be now - Aleppo has been destroyed by the civil war and he has not been able to talk to his family in over a year. In his endearing cross of a British and American accent, asked to tag along with us for the whole afternoon. Your mother may have taught you not to talk to strangers. My mother is the clear antithesis to that statement.

Me, my aunt, and Bara'a - and a pirate ship.

The Prince's Islands were really beautiful and it was a 60s and sunny kind of day. We sat outside and ate some borek and pide and had slightly salty seltzer, and my forehead got the bright pinkish hue some call sunburn and I call 'funburn' because it means I had a good time.

Buyukada, the biggest of the four islands, is currently in the winter season. Shuttered houses, rundown tennis courts, private beaches and horse-drawn carriages mark the hilly cobbled streets of this cross between Key West and Gibraltar. Put it on your radar for future places to buy a private but not too lonely international summer home.

Bara'a tried to buy me a flower, which was a sweet gesture but I really have nowhere to put a flower right now since I'm going to two other countries in the next four days. It reminded me of when a friend told me not to be sold to someone in exchange for a camel. To be clear, I was not sold in exchange for marriage, a flower or a camel. Bara'a is my friend.

And if you know of any American university professors who specialize in comparative literature or English and want to help him get to a great Masters program stateside, let me know - I want to help him with his dream of an advanced degree. He's a scholar and a gentleman and though our lives are worlds apart, I think we'll stay in touch (thanks, Facebook). I even invited him to my future birthday parties, so he has to come to America.

Istiklal Cadessi -
tourist trap for spenders' and people watchers' delight

Bohemia, Brooklyn, or Istanbul?

We parted ways on the return to Taksim Square, where he was excited to go to Starbucks and I was excited to pick up some boots I had reheeled in an alleyway. Thank goodness for my aunt's language and local talents. The day ended with some shopping for inexpensive souvenirs on Istiklal Cadessi, eyeing gorgeously expensive shoes, and wandering into St. Anthony's - Istanbul's most active Catholic Church, where the recently resigned pope once visited, and you can't eat a hamburger or do PDA inside (says the sign at the front).



For dinner, we stopped by my aunt's friend's cave hideaway of a restaurant, all about fresh home-cooked Turkish Meze. We ate a feast of tomatoey bulgur wheat, cucumbers and hummus, cherry-rice stuffed peppers and fried zucchini pancakes in thick yogurt. At the end of dinner, mom and I both felt stuffed well, but also suddenly seasick, though our water journey had ended nearly four hours earlier.





My mom leaves tomorrow, which is sad - I was able to really relax and rely on her like a total child should, months before she has to move out and be independent. When I was tired, I literally had her carry me, bracing my arm. When I left the camera downstairs, she went to bring it for me and helped me decide what shots to keep. And when she packed her suitcase to leave, she repacked mine a bit, too.

Twenty-two, still can't ride a bike, still need my mommy. Other than that, I'm doing alright in the world. Better than alright. I fell asleep with the smell of burnt toast and the taste of rose tea, ready for the last day of this family vacation tomorrow.

Soon, I'll be adventuring with some Austrians in Vienna with the wild Sydney Wolfson, beforing being reunited with our hodgepodge NU family. There's a great week ahead - stay tuned!