Planning a trip for just the two of us is now easy, as we know what we like and what kinds of trips bring us joy. But earlier this year, planning a family reunion trip to Istanbul with Victor’s father, brother, sister-in-law, and niece was a whole different story. Victor’s brother and sister-in-law wanted to see all the major tourist sites with their daughter. His father, meanwhile, wanted one thing: the beach.
If you’re wondering where the beach in Istanbul is, so was I. After combing through travel blogs, guidebooks, and Google Maps, I found the same grim consensus: yes, there are beaches near Istanbul - on the Princes’ Islands in the Sea of Marmara and along the Black Sea coast - but most reviews dismissed them as “dirty beaches, strong waves, just go to Antalya.” Still, we didn’t want to fly everyone to a resort town, and I was determined to make it work.
And here’s where I get to say: the consensus was dead wrong. To keep everyone happy, we went against all advice and planned one day on the beach at Kınalıada, the smallest of the Princes’ Islands, followed by three days in Şile, a little Black Sea town about 1.5 hours from central Istanbul. We loved both and would happily go back.
That’s not to say I wasn’t stressed at first. Planning beach days near Istanbul, when every review screamed “terrible idea,” wasn’t exactly fun. The daytrip to Kınalıada felt like less of a gamble - even if the beach disappointed, we'd at least enjoy the boat ride and a wander around the island. And for once, I was right.
We packed bathing suits, towels, and snacks (including fresh figs from the Istanbul market) and headed to the Kabatas pier. The ferry was cheap, frequent, and within half an hour, we were gliding toward the islands. Our plan was simple: get off at Kınalıada, and if we didn’t like what we saw, hop on the next boat to the next island. But as soon as we arrived, we were charmed. Kınalıada greeted us with immediate Mediterranean vibes: narrow streets, gorgeous villas, impossibly blue water, and that perfect blend of coastal charm and dramatic landscape. We found ourselves on a delightful street lined with shops and restaurants on one side, a small pebble beach on the other.
While Victor’s sister-in-law was negotiating prices for sunbeds, I realized the fruit vendors were selling figs for half what I’d paid in the city. So yes, I ended up bringing figs to the island and then buying more figs to take back to Istanbul. My fig logistics made sense at the time.
We finally settled on a beach club and paid 750 lira (about $18) for six sunbeds and umbrellas. The beach was spotless, the water surprisingly warm, and the view of the modern part of Istanbul on the horizon made it feel both far away and close at once. Victor said it reminded him of sitting on the Jersey Shore and looking at Manhattan. We spent five happy hours swimming, sunbathing, collecting mussel shells, and watching ferries crisscross the water. After lunch at a café and a leisurely wander through the island’s hilly streets, Victor’s father declared that he could happily spend a week there.
“Maybe next time,” Victor grinned.
Four days later, after Victor’s brother’s family flew home to Minsk, we set out for the riskier part of my itinerary: Şile. This was the three-day stretch I had worried about the most. Online, reviews of the Black Sea beaches read like horror stories: strong undertows that claim lives every summer, freezing water, trash-strewn beaches, unpredictable waves. After our success on Kınalıada, I almost second-guessed myself. Maybe we should have just gone back to the islands. What if Şile was… well, a silly idea? (Sorry. That pun was inevitable.)
But here’s the thing about Black Sea: I spent my childhood summers on its shores. I remember running around pebble beaches, tumbling in the waves, shivering in the cold water with a nostalgia that defies explanation. I was twelve when we left Russia, twenty-four when I returned for a visit that included making a pilgrimage back to the sea and standing knee-deep in those familiar waters, flooded with memories. There is obviously no way I would go back to Russia now and possibly ever, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the Black Sea. When Victor’s father mentioned the beach, it felt inevitable. No matter how many terrible reviews I read, I couldn’t shake that idea loose.
If you're planning a trip to Şile for any reason (family members pining for the beach and unresolved childhood nostalgia included), here are a few practical tips. Şile town sits on a hill, while the beach sprawls below, accessed by staircases. So if you're confused why your hotel appears to be on the beach but Google Maps shows a ten-minute walk to that same beach, it's because you need to find the nearest staircase and descend.
Second, don't fixate on staying right by the main beaches like we did. We weren't sure how nice the smaller beaches would be or if they had umbrellas and sunbeds for rent, so we planned to spend most of our time at Ayazma Beach's long stretch of sand, where cafes and sunbed rentals clustered. It turns out that smaller beaches like Şile Merkez Plaj were beautiful, less crowded, and had all the amenities of the larger beaches. The downside was that they were mostly small pebbles rather than pure sand. But that was fine by us. The upside? The water everywhere was pristinely clean - no seaweed, no floating plastic, none of the garbage we often encounter at public beaches. Yes, there were cigarette butts, but they were far less obvious among the pebbles than on the sand.
It was clear that Şile remained unspoiled by international tourists. We never heard anyone speak anything but Turkish our entire stay, hardly any vendors spoke English or Russian, and - perhaps the clearest indicator - the whole town didn't have a single money exchange place. While the dire Google reviews did a great job of keeping foreigners away, the locals came in droves. For the first few days, beaches were packed with families swimming, sunbathing, and enjoying their vacations, until they miraculously disappeared on September 1st (back-to-school day), leaving us to enjoy the warm weather and water almost by ourselves.
Travel advice is a curious thing. It comes from real experiences, real disappointments, real preferences, but it's never the universal truth. What one person finds dirty, another finds charming and natural. The beaches near Istanbul aren't perfect, but they're real. They're where Turkish families go on summer weekends, local kids learn to swim, grandparents sit under umbrellas and watch the ferries pass. They're not designed for travel bloggers or Instagram influencers, and maybe that's exactly why they're worth visiting. Sometimes the best discoveries happen when you ignore the reviews and take a chance. What's waiting for you might not be on any recommended list at all.
