By Galata Bridge I sat down and fished…

Marginal Revolution’s Alex Tabarrok writes:

“On the famous Galata bridge fisherman cast from the top level while outdoor restaurants line the walkway below.  The fishermen’s lines are hard to see so dining at dusk you are surprised when silvery fish, glittering in the last light of the sun ascend to the sky as if swimming to the heavens.”

Well, I was on the Galata Bridge on Sunday, watching these fellows cast their lines into the Golden Horn. I don’t munch fish anyway, but even if I did would I want to consume fish that swam in these waters?

More, and possibly slightly deeper observations on a week in the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus and in Istanbul will follow over the next few days.