before the nineteen century the ships were not accosting .. the passengers and the shipment were taken from the coast to the ships by the "sandalci" rowing boats..
too many accidents happened these times..
at the begining of the nineteen century seaports were constructed..
some were constructed over barrels.. floating ports.. that's what they were.. and ships could accost..
the passengers had to wait until 1914 for the waiting halls to be constructed..
the karaköy port.. was the one we used to visit my aunts every weekend..
we were walking to the station.. took the train and than we were walking again to the port.. If we had missed the posr which was near the station.. my parents decided to walk over the galata bridge.. to the other port where there were more frequent departure schedule..
I was so small that my daddy had to pick me up.. to see the man behind the ticket window..
being authorised to place the token .. later.. running into the hall while my parents were strolling and buying the tokens in advance.. were signs of my "growing up"..
green leather covered benches.. ascending- descending windows.. always someone objecting to the open window.. brass inset ashtrays in the armrests of the benches..
when my father felt "dandy-ish" sitting at the "de-luxe" hall adorned with mirrors.. crystal door glasses.. waiters.. small individual artdeco armchairs and coffe tables placed in groups.. the waiter .. the turkish coffee smell in the air..
when the weather was nice.. sitting outside at the benches with their back to the passenger halls and facing the sea.. trying to reach the banisters with your feet.. then as one day you are proudly "big" enough to do it.. being warned.. to take them off.. being frustrated..because you waited so long for this day to come..
an the way back.. being tired and sleepy..
my father's takingme upon his shoulders and carrying me to the station.. joking .. "you can ride the "babaway" / tramcars were called tramway in turkish.. and babaway is fatherway or fathercar /..
growing up.. and being able to jump from the port to the ship in one step.. without waiting for the passage to be placed..
huge black tires tied at the port.. the water raising in green blue and white whirls between the port and the ship.. an mum's voice reminding me to be careful ..the mist of salty water all ove your face.. the smell of the sea.. of the iodine in the air.. and the cries of the seagulls..
are in my brain and at the tip of my nose..in my ears..in all my senses...
I don't have a romantic story.. much as many of Istanbul citizens.. but I remember a few.. eyeing.. shying.. then being followed upto the busstop or railway station .. when I was a teenager..
but I have too many lively memories..
being from istanbul means being in relation with the sea.. the ships..
last night there was a very strong southwest wind storm raising to 42 km/h speed.. and this historical port has sunken..
it was last restorated in 1966.. there were no life losses.. and it will be restored again.. but.. I am sure they will not pass by the opportunity of modernizing it..
I felt.. like I had lost a part of my childhood..