I have never been a particular fan of MacDonalds and its fast food offering and a big mac is something that neither tickles my tastebuds nor sends my willpower into cowardly retreat. But these macs really did catch my eye. On the bridge linking Sultanahmet with the new part of the city are rows and rows of fishermen. When it’s fish o’clock they gather- grandfathers with their sons, and their sons’ sons. Rods are loaded with tackle and propped against the side of the bridge. The fishermen stand and wait, waiting for the tremble of the rod which signifies a successful bite.
Wearing bright yellow macs and set against the turquoise railings and magnificent view over the Bosphorus they paint a real picture, and one which my camera couldn’t resist snapping. You get the feeling that this wasn’t just about making a few bob or selling some fish to curious tourists. It was about family, tradition and doing something they loved, come rain or shine.
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