Describe a place near water that you enjoy

The place I want to talk about is the seafront in Üsküdar, which is on the Asian side of Istanbul. There is a long stone wall along the Bosphorus, and people sit there for looking at the water. From there you can see the Maiden's Tower, a small tower on a rock in the sea, and the old city on the other side.

I go there nearly every Friday after work, because my office is not far. I usually go with one or two colleagues, or alone if I need to think.

Normally we buy a simit, which is a kind of bread with sesame, and we drink tea from small glasses that the sellers carry. Then we just sit and watch the ferries going between the two continents. There is also many fishermen standing on the wall with long rods, and I like to watching what they catch. When the sun goes down, the sky becomes orange and the whole city look like a painting.

I enjoy being near the water because it's make me calm. My job is very stressful, I work in a call centre, and all week I hear people complaining. But the sea is always moving and it has a very relaxing sound, so I forget about my problems. I think water has a special power for human. After one hour there, I feel like a new person.

I'd like to talk about the seafront at Üsküdar, on the Asian side of Istanbul. There's a long stone sea wall that runs along the Bosphorus, and from there you get a view across the water to the old city, with the Maiden's Tower sitting on its little rock just offshore.

I go most Fridays after work, since my office is only a short walk away. Sometimes a couple of colleagues come along, but just as often I go on my own, especially if it's been a rough week.

There's a bit of a routine. I pick up a simit, a ring of bread covered in sesame seeds, from one of the carts, and then a tea seller comes past with a tray of those little tulip-shaped glasses. After that, I just sit on the wall and watch the ferries criss-crossing between Europe and Asia. There are always fishermen lined up with their rods, and I've got into the habit of peering into their buckets to see how are they doing. If I time it right, the sun sets behind the mosques on the opposite shore and everything goes gold.

Why the water? I think it's because it's never still. I work in a call centre, so I spend all week listening to complaints, and my head gets very cluttered. Watching the current and hearing the waves slapping against the wall seems to slow everything down. By the time I head home, I usually feel like I've had a proper reset.

The place I'd choose is the waterfront at Üsküdar, on the Asian shore of Istanbul. A low stone sea wall runs for a good kilometre along the Bosphorus, and from it you look straight across at the skyline of the old city, with the Maiden's Tower perched on its rock a few hundred metres out.

I'm there most Fridays once I've finished work; my office is ten minutes away, which is dangerously convenient. Now and then a couple of colleagues tag along, but more often than not I go alone, particularly after a draining week.

The ritual barely varies. I grab a simit, the sesame-crusted bread rings sold from carts, and before long a tea seller wanders by with a tray of tulip-shaped glasses balanced on one hand. Then I settle on the wall and watch the ferries shuttling between the two continents, their wakes crossing and recrossing. The wall is lined with fishermen, and I've become one of those people who can't resist peering into their buckets. On a clear evening the sun drops behind the domes on the far shore and the whole strait turns copper.

As for why the water matters, I think it's the constant motion. I spend my working week in a call centre, absorbing other people's frustration, and by Friday my head feels like an overfull inbox. Watching the current and listening to the slap of the waves against the stone somehow keeps the week at arm's length. I rarely make a decision there, but I often leave knowing what I ought to do, which is more than I can say for any meeting room.