Though I take Anton to Istanbul's station on the Asian side, Haydarpaşa Garı, quite often, I hadn't taken him to Sirkeci Garı on the European side until today. I should have taken him long ago in celebration of his existence, because it was in the toilets at this train station, giddy with the possibility that I was pregnant, that I took my first pregnancy test. The test was negative. It is always better to be able to read the language the instructions are written in! I remember pacing around the station after the false negative result, overwhelmed by the realization that I had taken the lid off my long repressed desire for a second child (Anton was born when Ruskin was nearly 13), and it would be a very hard job to get it back on. So it was wonderful to take Anton on a train from Sirkeci just for the heck of it today.

This is definitely one of those perfect plans for transport mad kids, especially if you come from Taksim so you can take a funicular and a tram before you even get there. The station is pink and pretty and it is lovely to imagine the people that once arrived there on the Orient Express. I did hope to take some pictures of the building, but Anton was so excited about boarding the train we just got straight on. The suburban line to Halkalı costs 3 Turkish Lira and takes about 40 minutes, making it a perfect cheap rainy day activity. The start of the journey is really atmospheric, passing Topkapı Palace and the city walls. When we arrived at Halkalı we just crossed over the platform for the return journey. By then, the excitement had got to Anton and by the second station he had started nodding off precariously. A lovely lady sat herself next to him and held him secure (not even shifting when she gave herself an insulin injection) while I fed Neve and stared at my longed for child's sleep-pouty mouth.

A couple of years ago, feeling a bit daunted by the claustrophobic chaos of Istanbul, I flew over Slovenia and saw paradise. Laid out under me was the geographical representation of personal space (not so popular in Turkey as in the UK or Finland!). Villages and towns nestled under mountains surrounded by forests pumping out far more fresh air than the inhabitants could ever breathe (Istanbul can feel a little like living in a lift). I pictured myself cycling between small, well spaced villages occasionally looking backwards to give the kids a wave of encouragement (in my dreams they don't need to wee or eat). Cycling with the children has always been part of my daydream mothering and though it will be possible here Istanbul cannot offer the feeling of direction-less, day long exploration by bike that I loved in the Yorkshire Dales, or in my Dad's Derbyshire tales (obviously this is a petty complaint, this city does have compensations!). My other parenting fantasy involves Inter-railing with all our children. Both Ville and I have great memories of the freedom of month long, Europe wide train tickets and I would love to give our brood the gift of those rare moments where anything (or anywhere) feels possible.

A few weeks ago a friend from Ljubljana needed to come to Istanbul and asked if we were interested in swapping homes for a week. Yes! So we have just returned from a week in Slovenia and the map I looked down on has now been heard and felt, and found to be more lovely than I even expected. My favourite thing was that when we climbed into the train that took us to explore the caves of Postojna we found the compartments and couchettes that we remembered from our teenage adventures. So for a few hours I sat with the children travelling past mountains and churches and daydreaming that we could go anywhere.

I love that Ville has a strong memory of watching trains from the pedestrian bridge of his Finnish home town with his Dad. He recounts his memories of these excursions (and digger rides) when Anton has trouble sleeping. I really like (honestly!) building similar memories with Anton and am thankful to Istanbul that its transport systems, while not completely easy to access or perfectly connected, have a certain romance. It makes the hours I spend on, and watching, transport something of a pleasure. One of our favourite things to do is to take a train from Bostancı to Haydarpaşa Garı (station). Arriving on this line means that you come in next to the water and see an exciting clutter of train ferries, machinery and dock buildings. Then we walk right to the end of platform 7 and 8 and sit and wait. This might be a terminus but it is hardly Waterloo, here at least you can see everything that comes and goes. We usually bring a bag of trains or cars to play with, and with no train-spotters to block the view, just relax. The reward for me comes when Anton gets restless (this can take some time though!) and we can go and buy simit or drink tea at the atmospheric little restaurant with a view over the water to Kadiköy. Then I get to be Audrey Tatou and walk through the (usually) sun streamed, painted entrance and down the steps towards the beautiful little ferry station, just as she does in the Chanel advert. Well, apart from the two children and a certain lack of  lithe spring to my step (and a hairdresser might help). There is a cafe outside, by the water, from which you can soak up some great views (with enough going on for children to sit still) before taking a vapur across to Karaköy. The romance of this train station by the Bosphorus cannot fail to grab you and start daydreams of long journeys.

Here are some pictures of Anton at Haydarpaşa Garı last winter and today (you will probably be able to work out which is which!):