Üsküdar's waterfront looks straight back across the Bosphorus at the domes and minarets of the old city, lit head-on by the setting sun. Travellers have crossed from this shore since antiquity: roads out of Anatolia ended here, at a boat for the capital opposite, and the Greeks called the place Chrysopolis, the city of gold. Ferries still cast off from the same square today, beneath a domed mosque Sinan raised over the landing, and fishermen work the railings as they have for generations.
You come here to look, not to arrive. The promenade runs low and open along the strait, and the whole city performs across the water: ferries carve white wakes, the Maiden's Tower sits on its rock just offshore, and cargo ships slide past improbably close. In the last hour of daylight the crowd thickens at Salacak as Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque turn to black silhouettes against an orange sky. Then the lamps come on, tea glasses appear along the railing, and the little tower lights up on the water.