Çengelköy is a Bosphorus village on the Asian shore, and its heart is Çınaraltı, a tea garden gathered under an enormous plane tree reckoned to be centuries old. You take a low chair with a glass of tea, ferries and fishing boats crossing the frame, the leaves shifting overhead. Wooden yalıs and narrow lanes spill down to a small waterfront square where fishermen have tied up for generations. On weekend mornings breakfast spreads out slowly, old men play backgammon and cats work the tables.
Çınaraltı simply means under the plane tree, and the tree is a registered monument, its trunk more than six metres around. The village also lent its name to a cucumber, and greengrocers still trade on it. Around the square the ordinary business of a small port carries on — a fish stall on the quay, a bakery, a ferry pier, a police post — and nothing here is arranged for visitors. The old market gardens on the slopes behind are built over; the name outlived the crop.