'In the 16th century there was a painter whose wife would ask him to add an island just for herself whenever he painted a world map, and the painter would not feel able to refuse.' Aksit Göktürk relates this anecdote in his book The Island. The Spanish painter lived in a century when the world was still a place of mysteries, and evidently he thought there could be no harm in humouring his senora. After all it was just a dot in an expanse of blue, like a freckle on tanned skin. But woe on the sailor who saw this imaginary island on the map and tried to reach it! You should not be angry at the Spanish painter for his thoughtlessness, though. He was not concerned with them but with his beloved, offering her an island as a gift, a promise of eternal happiness, a utopia. An island all to oneself is an irresistible dream; a beach of many coloured pebbles lapped by waves in the middle of the turquoise sea; tranquility itself, far from jostling crowds.

'I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree / And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made / Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee / And live alone in the bee-loud glade.' So writes the poet Y. B. Yeats in his poem The Lake Isle of Innisfree. But it is not always feasible to play Robinson Crusoe in our modern times. A more accessible retreat from the concrete jungle is all we need; closer at hand, in familiar seas, and offering peace, liberty and happiness without isolation. Just such an island retreat exists a short distance from Istanbul, in the Marmara Sea. This is Burgaz, part of a tiny archipelago known as the Princes Islands. In ancient times the island was called Panormos, a name meaning 'safe harbour,' because between Burgaz and Heybeli Island (the ancient Halki) to the east is a shallow channel 600-700 metres wide offering shelter from gales. After nightfall the twinkling nights on the neighbouring islands are like a reflection of the twinkling stars in the sky. The Princes Islands consist of Kinali, Burgaz, Kasik, Heybeli, Büyük, Sedef and three uninhabited islets.

The branches of the mulberry tree hang almost to the ground, so that visitors only have to reach out to taste the ripe juicy fruit. Wandering through the rooms with their creaking floorboards, visitors walk carefully so as not to disturb the writr'sl tranquil private world. Through the open door of the balcony you see pots of geraniums that have been newly watered, and out to sea beyond them the verdant Kasik Island. This is a balcony that invites you to sit down to read, chat, drink tea or daydream. If Sait Faik had been alive he might have walked to Kalpazankaya like us, or gone to swim off the rocks facing Yassi and Sivri islands. He would have stopped to talk to the dolphins, fishermen and Greek girls in windblown skirts, and perhaps lit a cigarette. Everyone on the island used to recognise him from a distance by the dog which never left his side, and say to one another, 'That was Sait.'

* By EMEL ÇELEBI Photos BARIS HASAN BEDIR