Avsa
My Grandfather's Island of Fish, Granite and Vine
Muge Iplikci, Skylife Magazine - My grandfather passionately loved the island of Avsa in the southern Marmara Sea. It is one of the three large islands in this group, the other two being Marmara and Pasalimani. He used to say that he had tried the other two, but Avsa had won his heart. When he retired and started goping there in the early 1970s it was a quiet backwater, a world of its own which the busy goings-on of the mainland had passed by, and without any regrets on the part of the islanders. Times have changed since then, but fortunately my grandfather did not live to see them.

The blustering chill winds of March that held cities in their grip hardly touched the island of retired accounting clerk Mr. Mahir Crusoe. Here the sound of gulls filled the air and a gentle breeze blew. It was in this season when spring was struggling to put in an appearance, that my grandfather would set out, drawn by dr5eams of wakening to the scent of marguerites, poppies, broom and white sand lilies. In the cool evening hours he would drink wine of the previous year's vintage, savoring the astringent flavor which harmonized so well with those hours. In the mornings he would sip his black coffee as he gazed at the purple hills scattered with olive trees in silent tranquility.

Why did he choose this island in the Marmara Sea, instead of one of the towns of the south coast? I often asked him this question. Then he would point at the Phillips radio in his island cottage and say, "You should not escape from life completely." Around noon he always turned on the radio to listen to the indistinct and scratchy woman's voice presenting the news. He felt as at home as the local people, but the with the habits of a city-dweller wanted to keep in touch with the world outside. Avsa, known variously in the past as Ophioussa, Afousia and Panaya, is 75 nautical miles from Istanbul, a distance both near and far at the same time, as my grandfather once told me. Far out to the sea was the tiny island of Hayirsiz, meaning "inauspicious." My grandfather told me not to be deceived by the name. "You would be wrong," he said. "That island serves a useful purpose. How can an island with a lighthouse on it be inauspicious?" From these words I understood that he wanted to see himself as an auspicious pensioner. In this land of granite and vineyards, where wine making, fishing and quarrying were the main activities, he saw himself simultaneously as an exile and as a man of the city.

The fresh water on the island went well with the wine and sea water was perfect for swimming. My grandfather once said that in such water he could swim as far as the island of Ekinlik to the north where the dolphins visited. I have to confess that the wine played as great a part as the sea water in this claim. Ekinlik was close to Avsa on the map, but looking at it gave a sense of depth and distance. The dolphins were undoubtedly cause of this feeling. These smiling creatures would come right into the island's shores, making distance seem close and depth shallow, as they flirted with the islanders.

The fish were not so fortunate of course. Their fate was settled by fishermen, who caught sea bass in May, young bonito in August, blue fish and chub mackerel in September, and mackerel, large bonito, anchovies and whiting in October.

In time all roads in Marmara region began to lead to Avsa, and more and more holidaymakers found their way there. Spring merged into summer, and summer into autumn. It was just before this that my grandfather slipped away, never to return. But he left the finest wines in the Marmara region and his dreams in Avsa.

The town of Avsa is a typical seaside town, with the summer villas, fishing boats and cats hoping to snatch a stray fish.

Avsa's inhabitants are deeply attached to their island, with its fresh fragrant air in which the scents of the sea and the flowers mingle.