Kadıköy's meeting point is a bronze bull. It stands at Altıyol, the six-way junction where everyone in the district arranges to meet, and it took a long route to get there: cast in France in the 1860s, carried off by Germany after the Franco-Prussian War, passed on to the Ottoman court, and set up first in the grounds of Beylerbeyi Palace and later at a slaughterhouse gate. Kadıköy got it for good in 1969. From the bull, Bahariye Avenue runs downhill as a pedestrian street lined with bookshops, record stores and the theatres that once made this the Asian side's stage. Halfway along stands the Süreyya Opera, an Art Deco house a retired pasha built in 1927 so his side of the water would have one too.
The rest of the quarter is for walking. You drift from the fish market's iced counters into lanes where cats outnumber cars, past murals, buskers with saz and cello, and cafés that spill across the pavement. Kadife Sokak, known as Bar Street, fills after dark, and the Süreyya's chandeliers light up for a ballet a few doors from a döner stand. Nothing here is grand on its own. What makes it worth the ferry is how much is packed into a few streets, and who is packed in with you: students, artists and grandmothers waiting at the same crossing. Kadıköy is where Istanbul feels most like itself, well off the tourist trail.