The Prince’s Islands

The Juicer Man

“It’s Show Time!” A captive audience; we were crammed on the open, upper deck of a ferry, about 100 of us: we’d sailed out of Kabatas at 8:30 on a cool, sunny morning, when our performer appeared with a bag of brightly coloured objects.

It turns out they were small plastic cylinders that you screwed into an orange to help you squeeze out the juice. No one was interested and they turned their heads away. But he was a large man, full of life, and with a well practiced spiel. He swept across the deck, picking unsuspecting patrons to try his device, exaggerating its magic. Gradually, people started to chuckle, then laugh, then shift to face him. By the end, as he made sales, the audience was clapping and cheering; the day felt a little warmer.

Friendly Phaeton Driver

We were heading to Heybeli (Saddlebag), one of the nine Prince’s Islands, a lazy haven from the crush of the big city. Motorized traffic is forbidden on these islands, once a retreat of the elite, so it’s walk, cycle, or take a phaeton (horse and carriage). Only a handful of us got off the ferry and there was a long line of waiting phaetons, so we clambered in one and headed off around the island. The wagon meandered up to the cliffs, through the woods and back to the town, stopping here and there to smell the flowers, or the horse… It was a delight.

Stopping for lunch at the Deniz (Sea) Café, the owner lavished us with food and tales of the sea. As Carol tucked into her fish a motley collection of cats, dogs and seagulls moved in, jostling for position. I was glad I’d chosen the grilled cheese…

It was hard not to stop and take in the afternoon sun as we ambled around the town. Built on a gentle rise up from the docks, the narrow streets boast wooden colonial-style houses; like sad dowagers, their cracked walls sprouting bougainvillea and an occasional lush garden of tulips and crocuses. And, always a cat or two draped nearby. Despite the silence of the island you couldn’t hear them purr.

 We took a short ferry ride across to the much busier Buyukada (Big) Island. The town crowds the dock here with cafés and gift shops vying for attention - we grabbed an ice cream and another phaeton ride as we escaped the tourists.

We ended our visit boarding the ferry home. A large throng waited to embark, surging forward when the gate opened waving their tickets, as if this was the last boat home. We were carried along to the deck where we managed to find seats. The sense of community continued; the guy next to me cracked open a pack of chocolate cookies and immediately offered me one – we hadn’t even spoken. Two young guys next to Carol bought three packs of chips, handing one to her.

I waited for the show to start but there were no juicers this time, only the waiter with cups of coffee and tea… So, I grabbed a tea and stood out on the deck to watch the late afternoon sun over Istanbul.

Entering Istanbul Harbour with Blue Mosque (left) and Hagia Sophia silhouetted