It is not possible to get acquainted with Istanbul -which renews its texture every day- through short journeys. This is true as Istanbul has for centuries remained hidden behind cypresses, judas, magnolias and water lilies; or perhaps in the shadows of a Byzantine mosaics master or an Ottoman calligrapher. In fact, Istanbul -coy in nature- brews in the grand slumber of its details. Each gate of the city opens first into a huge tunnel and then to a half dark storage room smelling of mould. "
"Istanbul is in these rooms. Shaping the mystery of Istanbul under the blue light slipping through the iron bars of the small crennels, in a way depends on your able hands. But that blue light on the other hand, has its guardians. They are the seagulls."
These words are written on the back cover of the book "Istanbul of the Seagulls". Here is another excerpt from the forward of the same book: "Water is eternity. When human beeings rid their fears and moved down from mountainsides down to the valleys, water fronts, they were mesmerised by the taste and charm of deep waters. Water is a story, a fairy tale, utterances of love and dreams. Cities which put up their royal tents on the waterfront, would find themselves tangled in a mess; their nights and days would turn up-side-down. If there were no wars, recorders of history would not know what to write. The history of Istanbul, the city of waters, has been written. A little bit of envy and a a certain dose of fear of the emperor or the sultan have led the recorders of history to pack up and join the war and meanwhile write on Istanbul. But Istanbul without a hesitation, will open its gates to mastery of nature who can't record her own history and to the fate of human beeings who record their history. That's why the sparrows will perch on cypresses of death as well as on joys and excitements."
In fact, almost any city in this world have sparrows. The sparrow and the dove of a city is no different to the sparrow and the dove of another city. So what is the difference?
I guess it's the enviromental conditions of a city that make them different. For example, the sparrow which lands on, (and the doves and seagulls which fly drawing curves between) the minarets of Architect Sinan's Süleymaniye Mosque, loads other meanings to it. That's why "Everyone has an Istanbul of their own and everyone weaves their own, on their own loom" .
Beyond its positioning on a waterfront, what makes Istanbul so habitable is its hosting of two great empires. That's why Istanbul of both Byzantine and Ottoman eras is open to interpretations. Doves, pidgeons, seagulls and sparrows serve Istanbul of both the Christians and the Moslems. In reality they have no interest in the spritual world but those who claim to possess them won't let them alone. So the doves, pidgeons, seagulls and sparrows carry on living ignoring this dilemma of mankind.
Chaos is what is seen the most in daily life of Istanbul. Whereever may be, one feels the crowds on his shoulder or his back along with the flow of vehicles in all directions!.. Age is of no importance; on the roads and streets you will meet people ranging from shrouded

babies, kids with dummies in their mouths, mothers dragging their children along, to youth and elderlies.
At a most unexpected place, a horse drawn cart will go past you with the smack sound of lips and the crack of a whip. On top, you might find yourself jumping to safety as someone shouts to warn: "Mind the wet paint".
You live in close touch with a slight zest of Byzantium, and plenty of Ottoman and republican Turkey.That's why those who take to the roads with refreshed blood in the mornings, say "It's getting too late to live in a coastal town in peace" when they safely reach home in the evenings. This is an escape that urban folk yearn for.But a weird migration flows

away like reels of a film: While those with their packs and bundles of rations arrive at Istanbul, those with their summer clothes, packs of cigarettes, nescafe stocks and books, rush away to the blue and green in convoys.
Of those who have done the first migration; I have no way of telling if they are happy or not. But the geography of Istanbul made of ample land, is changing its identity. For them, the experience and the qualities of the land they migrate to is of no importance.
There are no rules which they would learn, abide or protect. This is a siege, a siege aiming to destroy. If you want to deviate the subject and think of "citisens' rights and rules" you can't put no bars and land belongs to nobody.
But let's never forget one subject: For centuries, those who have conquered have protected the cultures of that land; as civilisation is not living without rules but seeking conformity with the land you conquer. Especially if the city in question is Istanbul.
Most of them take up their position in the current issues under the heading of "our coop villas, our complex of summer houses". They cut down the olive trees to set up "Olive Villas", destroy bays and set up "Golden Beach Complex". I have one doubt though: Could they be the earlier migrants?
This is not to run down or insult anybody. Whoever they may be, for thousands of years every society has made pace throuhg changing places. Those who survived have gained fame with their monuments. They were named and known as Bergama, Dö?emealt›, Karap›nar, Yörük in their kilims. Karahisari, Lovni, Karamemi, Mercan have all made their mark on Istanbul's clouds as masters. Here is the reality that has kept Istanbul on its feet: "Istanbul is a dining table. If you have a passion for food and attach importance to your palate while drinking, you will inevitably end up n the Mısırçarşısı or the Spice Bazaar. No need to rush. First go to the Yeni Camii mosque and scatter a fistful of barley at the pigeons. Draw a world for yourself with the pidgeons. From between the wings of the pidgeons gaze at the Galata Tower and not the new bridge. Watch the ferries rush up and down the Bhosphorus, their smokes fading out.
Istanbul is not a city to be rushed. You'll find a thousand tastes even in its details. You may not like it overall, and hate journeys which turn your fatique into a misery. Istanbul won't relieve itsself so easily. It will take its clothes off with stubbernness and patiance and rid them at a most unexpected moment; unlike the Godess of Beauty, Aphrodites. But like lilies which it had grown in its own waters. "Mısırçarşısı, is in fact where migrations meet each other. Same goes for the Grand Bazaar! But what kind of an migration?
Linen seed oil comes from Egypt, wax from Balkan's, fabrics from London, Venice Austria, Holland, Paris, Marseille and Persia, fur from Russia… Some more examples; food and drinks this time: Honey from the Varna, spices from Egypt, Arabia and West Indies, sugar from Egypt and coffee from Egypt and Yemen.
But then where does Istanbul come from?
I think it would be right to say "from thousands and thousand years ago". For it has digested and recreated everything it had eaten, drank and seen.

Excerpts from: Martıların Istanbul'u, published by Türkiye İş Bankası, 1999