Istanbul is a noisy city, and nowhere is it noisier than on its docks. Our hotel, the Hayim, is a short block from the harbor. After breakfast we’re drawn there by a ship’s shrill whistle, each blast a romantic flashback to some sea-going novel of our youth. On the pier we’re swept along by armies of suburban workers surging of ferries and onto waiting trucks. As they disembark, boarding crowds shove past them for the return run across the Bosporus. We’re almost caught up in the sweep.
Separating European Turkey from Asia Minor Turkey, the Bosporus Strait connects the Sea of Marmara with the Black Sea. On that stretch of the Bosporus known as the Golden Horn—so-called because of the Ottoman Empire’s one-time lucrative sea trade—lies Istanbul. Today’s sea trade depends heavily on visiting navies, international tankers, and luxury cruisers, each vessel with its distinct screech of arrival and departure. Dockside trade is limited to fishing off the quay and peddling country produce on the wharf. Kayiks (dinghies) anchored off the pier combine fishing with a fast food operation; freshly-caught fish is floured, fried and flipped into a bun, then passed up to the waiting customer. Noisy as the dock is, the sizzle of oil in the wok and the slap of the sea against the pilings make their own distinct statement: these are the best fishburgers we’ve ever eaten.
The roar of traffic follows us all the way to the Archeological Museum. Inside, tour guides compete with each other and their charges as everyone jockeys for position before one marble sarcophagus or another. The din of English, French, German, Japanese and languages we can only guess at is earsplitting, but the art is classic, the history ancient. Here lie the leaders of Byzantium, their lives etched in battles, hunts, processions; their symbols, sphinxes and griffons. A guide points to one perfectly preserved tomb and shouts: "Alexander! Alexander the Great!" We demand evidence. "See for yourself scenes from his life in marble," says the guide. The battles look authentic to us.
