A middle-aged woman in a long, flowery skirt sells bunches of roses to the couples who hold each other affectionately on the rocks that form the boundary between the neighborhood of Moda and the Marmara Sea. On windy days, the waves roll, crashing up and onto a wide promenade that points directly to the tip of the historic peninsula. The spires of Sultanahmet are illumined, hinting of bygone eras across the water from Galata, where the Genoese tower has stood for nearly seven centuries as one of the proudest symbols of the landscape that has become consolidated into one city.

Kadıköy is sometimes reminiscent of the cultural and geographical relationship that Brooklyn has to Manhattan, where the heart of the urban core is at a remove within the more countrified setting that defines the paces of life within the Anatolian or Asian region of Istanbul’s intercontinental area. On its streets, under the shadow of low-rise blocks, residents relish in sounds of nature, comfortably distant from the hustle and bustle of daily life in the midtown rush. Even Moda itself can become hectic, however, which is why locals flock to the waterfront, joining what appears, at times, to be a vivid population density.

On sunny days, and weekends in the warmer months, crowds from across the land rain down on the coastal parks that wrap around what is colloquially referred to as the nose of the upscale district, with a boat-shaped sundial of a public artwork furnishing a walking path at the foot of apartment blocks decorated with mosaic panels, whose panoramas are some of the most enviable around. The vista overlooks a swathe of seascape including the lighthouse of Fenerbahçe, and the marina of Kalamış, from where sailboats often flash their canvases, whipping in the hard winds that blow north from the Dardanelles strait by Çanakkale.

Another way to be

While cyclists are a rarity in the parklands of Moda, before they fan out with less foot traffic toward Caddebostan, another seaside quarter farther down the coastline, there are strong showings of scooters, skateboarders and joggers, but mostly walkers. Because of how many people there are in any given stretch of pathway, it makes for a practically impenetrable mob that, on some days, even feels prohibitive for a walk. Nonetheless, leisurely sorts are out in force, displaying their talents for slackline balancing, and impromptu musical performances, usually plugged in facing the picnickers with their back to the sea, or acoustic on the lawn.

The parks of Moda, in that case, are jubilant, freewheeling and festive. Within their socializing circles, friendships are made and broken, lies told and truths uncovered, as tongues loosen toward the evening and everyone, together, sheds their collective, seasonal repressions, all the more so in the wake of a post-pandemic ambiance, electrified with shared sentiments of bodily liberation. Under a gazebo at the edge of the park, another sundial pays homage to the old Byzantine myth of Kadıköy as the land of the blind, as the prehistoric communities of Chalcedon inhabiting its shores missed the opportunity to settle the auspicious hills of Fatih.

It might seem, in retrospect, that those ancient people of Kadıköy whose traces along the Kurbağlıdere stream stand as some of the earliest evidence of habitation within the bounds of modern Istanbul, going back to the Stone Age, were onto something, as the sociocultural trends of the city have lately swarmed increasingly to its scenic, expansive ecology. It could be said that the environs around Hagia Sophia are overly settled, as its multilayered foundations remain unshakable, drawing an international buzz of passersby. In Moda, while there is a touristic bent to its allure, it has a localized focus, outward and upward, facing the sea and sky.

When youth was new

Moda and its green, forested parks are a haven for young people, as the many schools in Kadıköy pour out every day with adolescents in need of well-deserved breaks from their indoor concentrations. And newly furnished with a broader bike path that connects seamlessly with Fenerbahçe, by the side of a canal where little boats are docked and cleaned by men who seem to spend their days like fishermen off in some far-flung, exotic locale. Instead, they are neighbors with popular tennis and basketball courts, fenced obstacle courses for dogs and long lines outside of nearby cafes that dole out coffee and croissants like hot cakes.

With Yoğurtçu Park on one side and the port of Rıhtım on the other, the wide walkways of Moda’s seaside parks are meeting points where divergent groups gather in the spirit of mutual regard for the land and its waters. While city workers collect trash from the ground, environmentalists monitor the marine health of the Marmara Sea. Next, a cargo ship passes a commuter ferry while a cellist plays a Baroque air, mixing notes with a singer and guitarist powering through a radio classic. Dogs bark at each other as crows, cats and seagulls fight over handouts, then an aging woman sells a budding flower to a teenager in love.