Don't mention the "C" word!

As I write this it's been 5 months since I made my trip to the city famous for standing astride Europe and Asia - which is a testament firstly to how neglectful I've been with these updates, but also, given how clearly I remember the visit, to just how remarkable the city of Istanbul is. Unsure of what to expect when I arrived, I was surprised to find out that the place actually does conform in many aspects to the "East meets West" cliché, and in a mesmerising fashion.

Here you can catch a ride on a tram system identical to those of any large town in Northern Europe, a far cry from the petrol-oriented world of the Middle East. Many familiar features such as cobbled streets and crumbling stone lanes make you feel like you could be anywhere in the West. But then you are unmistakably reminded of where you are as the entirely, to western ears, alien call of the muezzin rises from the soaring minarets all across the city.

Like Rome and London, Istanbul has an indescribable energy and a palpable feeling of delights waiting to be discovered. The gorgeous Islamic modes of construction and decoration are breathtaking, with examples being endless. And just as those two other imperial monuments, the city is truly a sightseers playground, with every street bearing some beautiful testament to an incredible past.

The fact that we received almost constant drizzle from above did little to dampen (pardon the pun) our spirits as we explored, ate and shopped our way around the city. Each day concluded in a delicious local meal - particularly good were the kebap and Bosphorus seafood - and after a walk a sweet Turkish tea, a puff of nargile and a game of backgammon. The rhythm of the city is completely enchanting and addictive - punctuated by the calls to prayer and accompanied by the happy hubbub of the street vendors and market browsers, the scents of the spice stalls and the stunning sights of the greatest of Muslim cities.


Undeniably, one of the most vital components of this mélange is the stunning collision of architectural history. In the old town, not far from the palace of the muslim sultan of the Ottoman Empire, once the most powerful man in the world, is what was one of the largest churches in Christendom (now a museum); beyond that, it is easy to miss the entrance to the Roman underground cisterns (featured in From Russia With Love) as you stare at the stunning spectacle of the Blue Mosque.

Then, just when you think your senses could not be further overwhelmed, the most overwhelming of experiences awaits - the Grand Bazaar. Incredibly famous, it has a lot to live up to - which it does with ease. The crowds swirling around colourful stalls are solicited charmingly (stark contrast to the experience of Marrakech) by stall owners who have polished their one-liners and guilt-inspiring looks to a shine equal to that of their slicked back hair. They seem never to forget a face - from a two sentence exchange, we were remembered several days later - not only recognised, but identified as having looked at such-and-such a lamp or carpet.


By no means an exeption, but very special nevertheless, was the owner of Troy's carpets in the smaller Arasta Bazaar - a much smaller bazaar, with a single passage of stores in the shadow of the Blue Mosque (and, in fact, rented from the Mosque itself). Mustafa not only sold us brilliant carpets at a much better rate than his Grand Bazaar counterparts, but over 5 days became a fast friend who we looked to meet at least once a day for a tea or a game of backgammon (usually both). Through him, we got to know the other store owners, and even became familiar with aspects of their lives (for example, the storekeeper at the pottery store plays football and had a disappointing 5-1 loss one evening) and bazaar gossip (none of the store owners like the folk at the carpet store at the north end of the bazaar - they tried to fleece people and bring the bad elements of the Grand Bazaar with them).

The last, but by no means least, component of the infectious atmosphere of the city is provided by it's people. From people encountered randomly on the street, like the cheeky schoolboy below, to storekeepers and restaurant waiters, Istanbul is full of characters. Being there only a few days, it was amazing how quickly the locals developed a rapport, whether we were regular patrons or simply passers-by. This, of course, is a necessity for making money from tourism, and a familiar thing in a town so flocked-to - but when the attention is in the form of the easy charm seeminly bred into Istanbullers, somehow it ceases to be the dreaded hassle experienced in so many places, and all becomes part of the fun.