I seem to remember being extraordinarily proud of myself when, at a tender age of seven, I not only knew where Constantinople was, but I was also able to spell it.
Such elation, however, was short-lived when searching Collin’s World Gazetteer for the battleground of much of my early history lessons – in its place there appeared to be a square blob of a city that wasn’t even the capital of this large, rectangular country somewhere to the south of Europe.
Whatever its current invention, there is no doubt that Istanbul is one of the truly great cities of the world, and a worthy stopover on the now-legendary Rhoute. Dripping in history, saturated with fabulous architecture, boasting some awe-inspiring views across the Bosphorus and home to the best cuisine on my journey so far (this side of the Tian Shan, that is – there are still very, very few contenders for the tremendous gongbao jiding in China), the city appears to have everything.
It is also the only city I have come across over the past few months that I feel can really lay claim to being both Asian and European at the same time, as dandied as that sounds. Almost as soon as I left China, claims were being made that [insert Central Asian country] was the ‘bridge between Europe and Asia’, or the ‘real Eurasia’, a ‘meeting point between the two continents’ etc. Just half a day’s drive from the Chinese border, Almaty certain felt very European – as did Tashkent, Bishkek, or much of the Caucasus.
However, instead of being an island of European civilisation on the steppes, or in the middle of the desert, Istanbul seems ferociously proud of its mongrel heritage, and feels both Asian and European in equal measure. I certainly didn’t get that impression from anywhere I’ve travelled through since the beginning of May.
The ol’ wallet has certainly been taking a sound beating, in the way only Europe knows how to dish out. Twenty lira a pop for most of the main sights (and there was me whinging about five dollars at The Registan in Samarkand!) certainly adds up, and seeking refuge in a shot of strong Turkish coffee will set you back another five. Get any more adventurous and you’ll be scurrying to the ATMs before the real spending starts in the Grand Bazaar, the Spice Bazaar or in the hundreds of boutiques hidden among the city streets flogging carpets, jewellery, Turkish Delight, tea of all flavours, nargile pipes and all manner of tourist tat.