Some of the best adventures in life come from spontaneous ideas or moments. Or not. Depends on the situation I suppose. Cem (Jim) and I, or just I, made a rash decision to divert our plans from hiking in Ankara to driving to Istanbul for a Red Bull DIY flying contraption event. I’m pretty sure Cem was relieved he didn’t have to entertain me by walking around a lake. Instead he had to entertain my notion of walking through throngs of sweaty people under the near summer sun. At least there was a sea breeze. A breeze that smelled like dead fish, but a sea breeze nonetheless.
southern Istanbul
As we strolled (and threw elbows) at the Red Bull Flying Day in Caddesbostan, I sometimes played the leader and sometimes just followed. Usually when I followed, the leader would turn around and say to the group (4 guys and I), “Where are we going?” In which I would shrug my shoulders and look around at the people standing, sitting, sleeping, all in a sweaty daze. While the event has great potential-the common person making a “flying” machine that is pushed and either takes off or drops into the water below, there was too much talking and nonsense between the action to keep anyone’s (my) attention. And being that I was with 4 adolescent boys, oops, 4 grown men, I made the management decision to get on a boat and head to the Prince’s Islands.
Veli
Off we went, on the Mavi Marmara floating people vessel (not the boat from the Israeli attack in 2010), from Bostanci to Heybeli Island. On the 40-ish minute trip, I soaked in the sun, the sea spray, and the sight of the immense development of high rises from the Blue Mosque to Tuzla ( a seaside town 2 hours from “downtown” Istanbul.) The Asian side of Istanbul is a developer’s dream, however it just looks like a cluster fuck of village houses-meets-upscale highrises. I suppose it’s too late for creative urban planning.
On dry land, my partners in crime (sort of), Cem, Veli, Osman, and Emrecan, buy hats for sun
Hats and Smiles
protection (Veli and Osman), smoke the long anticipated cigarette (Emrecan), and watch the hilarity of what is, and what will ensue (Cem and I.) Hats bought, cigarettes smoked, laughs laughed, we rented bikes and headed uphill.
The old villas, the street cats, the horse-drawn carriages, and the wandering punk ass teenagers completed the island environment. As we huffed, puffed and laughed our asses off up and down the 
hills, we took a moment on a hilltop overlooking a bay littered with yachts and, naturally, took a jumping photo. When in doubt, take a snapshot of you and your friends jumping. Priceless memories.
One of the many things I love about Turkey, especially Istanbul, is that I can hop on a boat, land on an island, fuck about a few hours, then jump on a boat back to civilization.
Life is good.
Amy's Enlightening Adventures 