A Rude Awakening and Exploring Istanbul’s Asian Side with More Greek Connections

The night before, I’d said to Peter, “Well, at last we’ve had a drama-free day.” Famous last words! Clearly, I should have touched wood, thrown salt over my shoulder, or kissed the little ‘mati’ I carry around with me, because this morning chaos came knocking at our door – quite literally.

Just as we were about to head up to the roof terrace for breakfast, there was a loud knock at our door. This wasn’t a room service type of knock. Not that we had room service in our budget hotel. This was most definitely a ‘we mean business’ type of knock. We opened it to find a squad of uniformed officials working their way along the corridor, knocking every guest out of bed. One of them spoke to us in rapid Turkish, which of course meant nothing to us. When he realised we were English speakers, he pulled a phone out of his pocket and typed a message using Google Translate. “The hotel is finished. You have to leave now.” Well, good morning to you too we thought!

We tried asking what on earth was going on, but were briskly waved off. A member of hotel staff appeared and, in broken English, reassured us that everything would be fine, not to worry, and that he’d “do everything possible to help.” Moments later, the same officer came back and, without the need for translation, made it abundantly clear that “out” was the only option.

So, we did what any seasoned travellers do when being evicted with no warning. We frantically stuffed our belongings into bags. Drying laundry was yanked from the balcony, toiletries swept from the bathroom shelf, and my usual neat packing strategy was abandoned in favour of “shove it all in and hope for the best.”

Downstairs, we were herded into the outdoor restaurant and told to wait. Wait for what? Nobody knew. The staff were mortified, shifting uncomfortably as things unfolded. Other locals had stopped to watch the spectacle. Staff from the hotel next door sat on the pavement opposite, videoing it all. I may be appearing on a TikTok video any day now! Soon bits of a jigsaw puzzle began to come together. The story the hotel staff told us was that the hotel hadn’t renewed its operating licence. The owner — conveniently in America — had “forgotten” to mention this tiny detail to the manager. The officers were from the council (not the police, as I originally thought) and were also doing a hit on other hotels in the area too.

We realised that there’d be no returning to our rooms when the uniformed officers began sealing the hotel entrance shut with sheets of corrugated iron power-drilled into place, finishing off the job with an official notice of closure. I was a bit perturbed when I translated the sign later, which said ‘this is a dangerous structure and for the safety of life, do not approach!’ Well, I knew that the metal steps up to the roof terrace had given me the eebie jeebies, but to be honest, it doesn’t take much! Travelling with me is never dull!

In the meantime, the hotel staff were trying to find availability for us at their sister hotel across the street, but I’d had enough of hanging around. Patience is not my best virtue. The thing at the forefront of my mind was not where we were going to sleep that night but the day’s itinerary, which was slowly ebbing away. So, while Peter hovered hopefully, I walked round the corner and bagged us a room at a modest little place called the Turk Art Hotel. We left our luggage at the reception of our new abode and decided to crack on with our day.

One of the things I love most about Istanbul is how easily you can hop between two continents. Today, we will spend the day exploring the Asian side, starting with the ferry over to Kadıköy (yes, the right one this time!). There’s something special about those ferry rides — the cooling breeze, the sound of the gulls swooping overhead (bring Simet with you to feed them from your hand), and the constant stream of ferries crisscrossing the water. We stood at the rail and watched the European skyline slowly recede, domes, minarets, and the unmistakable silhouette of the Hagia Sophia giving way to open water. Within half an hour, we were stepping ashore in lively Kadıköy.

Right by the port, the markets were already buzzing. Fishmongers were shouting their prices, piles of glossy olives tempting us to buy, and the scent of spices drifted through the air – you know that market smell.

We wandered, following our noses, until we found ourselves on quieter backstreets. It can be challenging to find traces of Greek history in parts of Istanbul, but I’d read that in and around Kadıköy’s churches, there were several 18th-19th century houses in the vicinity that once belonged to wealthy Greeks. Using this rule of thumb, we sought out the nearest church to the market which happened to be Ai Efimia Greek Orthodox Church. The nearby streets were lined with old wooden houses that were clearly once part of an affluent neighbourhood. Many looked a little weather-worn, with peeling shutters and crooked balconies. Maybe they had once been home to the Greek community, or maybe they hadn’t. Regardless, the houses oozed charm.

Eventually, we made our way to Kadıköy’s famous meeting point, the Bull Statue. This isn’t just any bull — it’s a well-travelled one. Cast in France in the 1860s, paraded as a symbol of victory, captured as a war prize, gifted to an Ottoman Sultan, and eventually deposited here in Kadıköy, where it somehow transformed from political trophy to beloved neighbourhood mascot. Today, the drama of its history seems far behind it, and it now represents the beating heart of one of Istanbul’s liveliest districts.

From there, we swung by the nearby Surp Levon Armenian Catholic Church. Just beyond the church, we turned onto Ali Suave Street, identified by an interesting statue of said notable. Ali Suave was a dynamic Ottoman-era thinker, political activist, educator, journalist, theologian, and reformer. He rose to prominence as part of the Young Turks, a group seeking constitutional and governmental reform in the empire.

By then, we were ready for a break, so we wandered further down Ali Suavi Street, a little hub of cool cafés and bars. We found a table outside, ordered some ice-cold refreshments, and just sat for a while people-watching. Kadıköy has a youthful, energetic vibe — a mix of students, artistic types and locals just going about their day — and it was fun to soak it all in.

Feeling revived, we carried on to the Agia Triada Greek Orthodox Church, one of the largest and most well-preserved Greek Orthodox churches on Istanbul’s Asian side. It continues to serve as an active place of worship for the local Rum Orthodox community, another striking reminder of Istanbul’s many cultures and faiths coexisting side by side.

From there, it was a gentle walk down to Moda, where the Coastal Park stretches along the shoreline, perfect for strolling, cycling, or just grabbing a spot on the grass under the shade of a tree with some simit and watching the ferries glide past. It was almost hard to imagine that we were a short distance away from the craziness of central Istanbul.

Moda Pier is an iconic symbol of Kadikoy and one of the oldest piers in Istanbul. It was built around 1916 and restored in the 1960’s as a ferry terminal, but has now been reborn as a cultural hub with some of the best seaside views in Kadıköy.

Moda was once home to Istanbul’s wealthy Levantine, Greek, and Armenian families. Their influence shows in the elegant 19th-century wooden mansions tucked into its quiet backstreets. This escape from the city was just what we needed.

As the late afternoon approached, we decided to head back to Kadıköy ferry terminal. We had wandered quite far, so we jumped on one of the green trams that does a circular route around the area. Very easy with the Istanbulkart.

Back near the market, we jumped onto the next ferry to Karaköy on the Taksim Square side of the Golden Horn. Before dinner, we took a quick detour to Umbrella Street — a cheerful little alley where rows of colourful umbrellas are strung up overhead. It’s touristy, yes, but when in Rome and all that.

Dinner was under the Galata Bridge, at one of the restaurants where the tables practically lean out over the water. Fishing rods and lines dangled over us as we dined. We ordered meze, which came with a complimentary olive tapenade, fresh fish and kofte, and lingered over the meal as ferries continued to slip by.

Afterwards, we walked up onto the bridge itself. Dozens of men were lined up with fishing rods, waiting patiently as the sun began to dip. The light turned golden, then orange, casting long reflections across the Bosphorus. Then it was back onto the tram to our new abode. Phew! What a day!