For the first time, I have enjoyed Istanbul at rest

As a coronavirus curfew falls over the city, Borzou Daragahi takes a sunset stroll

The Yavuz Sultan Selim Bridge over the Bosphorus Strait yesterday - even the stray animals appear to be waiting for the humans to return (AP)

It was the first weekend of an all-encompassing curfew hastily imposed upon Turkey’s most populous provinces to halt the spread of coronavirus. No one was allowed to leave their homes; even grocery stores were ordered closed.

A smattering of journalists were allowed to document the shutdown. I donned a surgical mask and ventured out.

Streets and pavements normally filled with commuters, tourists and shoppers were empty but for a few police officers. Select bakeries and pharmacies were supposed to be open, but during my two-and-a-half-hour sunset walk through central Istanbul, I found neither catering to customers.

For once, I had left behind the headphones I use to subdue the city’s chaotic symphony. I wanted to hear Istanbul at rest. What is a city without its people, its cacophony of voices, costumes and faces?

As the afternoon light faded into golden dusk, the city’s architecture gleamed: the splendid late 19th and early 20th-century facades of Istiklal Street; the medieval, martial-like 15th-century tower at Galata, the elaborate 17th-century New Mosque, and just across the empty square, the 16th-century Rustem Pasha Mosque.

But without anybody feeding the pigeons, staring at the historical wonders or stopping off for a simit (a Turkish bagel) at one of the red street-vending stands that dot Turkey’s public spaces, the city felt eerie. As night fell, I rushed home.

Along the way, the stray cats and dogs sheltering within Istanbul’s crevices were among the welcome signs of life. But the dogs appeared hungry, restlessly foraging for food and whining for attention. The cats, meanwhile, seemed confused about the sudden disappearance of the two-legged beings who used to feed and fawn over them. Like the streets, shops and places of worship, the animals await our return. Hopefully, they won’t have too wait long.

Yours,

Borzou Daragahi

International correspondent