By Galatta Bridge

By Galatta Bridge.

You could get down to the old Galatta bridge through Gulhani Park. The main gates being at the bottom of Soak Cesme Yokusu, - cold fountain street. Where the Coskuns had their Bazaar and home built into the old city walls.

The park is basically a thoroughfare with a small zoo and wide sweep of grass and trees running parallel with Topkapi Palace situated on top of the overlooking hill.

During the summer there used to be many various stalls and beer gardens – fun activities for all the family, that came alive at night. I don't believe it happens there any-more.

It was a joyous place, even if the fici beer was watered down, opening out at the other end directly onto the Bhosphorus where all the local ferry boats seemed to begin.

A lovely place to walk through at any-time.

You could get a ferry to many relatively local places, just put a relatively inexpensive jeton into the slot at the entrance gate and rode with the rest. We used them a lot.

Often having a sahlip en route, milk with cinnamon.

Or even a thin crispy doughnut shaped simit.

Once I was on a ferry where someone fell overboard and every body consequently crowded 

to one side what was happening. A scary moment and they certainly weren't small boats.

All around, the views of Istanbul were breathtaking.

It seemed that all life were represented within that craft and I never came across any trouble or witnessed any aggravation on board.

Indeed, Istanbul seemed to be almost crime-free, at least burglary wise. But in shops anyone was fair game.

So, it was pretty well promenade all the way to the old bridge and beyond, again, with all kinds of stuff happening there.

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In between the parked ferries were small fishing boats selling fresh fish and grilled fish in bread sticks.

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In between the fishing boats were blokes fishing – but they didn't compare with the fishing activity that went on, on top of the bridge itself. They filled the side of the road, side by side, hunting for their dinners.

Unfortunately, I don't have the painting these images were heading toward. I gave them to a fellow degenerate who fell out with me as I wouldn't share one of the two bottles of beer I was taking home to drink all by myself.

Poor sod got knifed in the stomach for standing up to a hardened thug outside a night club. (it didn't kill him).

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Underneath the bridge were loads of fish restaurants, which could be a real pain, just to get by, due to the “come on in” hustle. Although, they somehow seemed to know if you had eaten somewhere else, even if it was on the other side of the bridge.

And,

there were the very cheap bars, where people sat round on two foot high wood and hemp stools. A souvenir I always meant to bring back with me, (very practical for down to earth jobs)

The old bridge was clogging up the waterways – I suppose the small arches couldn't cope with contemporary rubbish which used to build up underneath.

All the restaurants moved to the other side of Kumkapi. - - turning right as you hit the water as oppose to left.

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