Yıldız Park is a steep wooded slope above Beşiktaş, and climbing it is the point. Winding paths run uphill under a dense canopy, past streams, mossy rockeries and stepped ponds, until the trees suddenly open onto the Bosphorus far below. Two nineteenth-century pavilions, Malta Köşkü and Çadır Köşkü, stand among the terraces and serve tea. In autumn the slope turns copper and gold; in spring it fills with tulips and blossom. People come to walk, to sit at the old kiosks over tea, and to let children run on the lawns.
For centuries this was a locked imperial grove that only the Ottoman court could enter. When Sultan Abdülhamid II moved his household up to Yıldız Palace in the late 1800s, he reshaped the grounds into a landscaped garden. The porcelain works he set up inside the park still turns out hand-painted plates. The gates opened to the city only after 1940, and the park now covers about thirty-seven hectares. Weekday mornings stay hushed; fine weekends fill the whole slope.