Kınalıada or Henna Island is one of the Princes' Islands and is part of the Adalar district of İstanbul. Ada means island, adalar islands, and Kınalıada's name comes from the color of the land there which is rich in iron and copper.
B. and I had been planning a trip there - or perhaps we'd go to Burgazada, another of the islands, but then settled on Kınalıada. Monday was a sunny day and perfect weather for our trip, so I grabbed the ferry at Kabataş and watched the seagulls fly by (I know they were looking for pieces of bread or simit - I only had teeny, tiny sandwiches - more about them in another post - and those were off limits. The man from Saudi Arabia wanted them to eat bread from his hand. I told him they wouldn't and they didn't. But here they are flying.)
We stopped in Kadıköy and B. joined me. She brought simit which we ate (sorry, seagulls.) I drank coffee and she had an ice tea and after 25 minutes we arrived in Kınalıada.
Which way should we go? Let's go right, B. suggested. Sounded good to me and off we went. I don't know what it is. I love dilapidated old houses. I just love them. I am not sure if the love comes from my deep love of real estate or my deep love of stories. I can tell you, this house had a lot of both.
For the past year or so I have been obsessed with Miss Havisham from Great Expectations. Mrs. Clennam in Little Dorrit also lives in a dilapidated old house, but Miss Havisham in infinitely more fascinating. After being swindled and left at the altar, Miss Havisham sits in her decaying mansion wearing one shoe and her wedding dress. You can understand why she's gone mad and what an amazing symbol of inertia she is. So, that being said, what is it with Dickens and women in old dilapidated houses - there's an academic paper just asking to be written (if it hasn't already been written to death.) And what is it with me and dilapidated old houses?
Here's the front view.
And here's a majestic island house in all her glory.
B. and I walked and talked. We caught up on a lot of things. I stopped to take photos of flowers.
Kittens sleeping in flowers.
I wanted to take a teeny, tiny one home. But then thought, no. Step away from the kitten, B. said. I stepped away. Though this was my first step at looking at my commitment issues. Today I bought a bamboo plant. I'll start slow.
It was a gorgeous day. We walked up to the monastery. The directions were kind of iffy, in that way that Turkish people give directions. We came to a kid's park. The monastery was supposed to be visible, so I climbed up the jungle gym to get a good view. I don't have a picture of that. But I do have a picture of our wrong turn.
We found the monastery. I don't have a picture of that either. It was kind of dull on the outside - but a window had been closed on an old, white lace curtain and part of it was outside and part of it was inside. Is that you, Miss Havishamopoulos?
We walked into town and sat and talked by the sea. I was struck by the textures.
And the color of henna.
It was a lovely day. I cannot wait to go back. We'll see about the kitten.