Very slowly, getting to grips with Turkish – thank goodness for Google translate! (Hello from Istanbul)

I shan’t go into the BA flight to Istanbul fun (total delay some 3 hours…), though having to change the nose wheel on the plane while all the passengers are on board made me wonder about their maintenance schedule… So we hit the rush hour in a city of 20 million: sure, it is messy everywhere, but I’ve not seen the kind of squeezing into spaces that cars do in Istanbul since Colombia. (And yes, the cars are all scratched :))

Staying in the old part of town on the European side – in Balat, full of colourful houses (both in the way they are painted and in the state of dilapidation), all hills and cobbles, cats and sea views. The guides tell you that Istanbul, like Rome, was built on seven hills. It feels like many more, and steep they are too.

Done the must-do visits: the Aya Sofia, the Blue Mosque, Suleymania Mosque, the Basilica Cistern, Topkapi Palace. The cistern was impressive, eerie and beautiful, timeless, humid (doh!), artfully lit, used also to display modern sculpture. A few duds on the Istanbul Tourist Pass (covers all top sites plus others) was helpful to bypass a couple of queues, and I did things I normally wouldn’t to get my money’s worth, but would not do it again (such as the dinner cruise – the dancers made the most of the small space, jostling with waiters carrying trays; the belly dancer REALLY worked the crowd, until her bra had enough lire notes tucked in to stop).

Went to the Mihrimah Sultan Hamam, recommended by my hosts and clearly not a touristy one – no-one spoke English, it was not busy and I got steamed, saunaed, massaged and coffee grounds covered (yes!), scrubbed and lathered, for c £20. The entrance to the ladies’ part was tucked at the back, next to a petrol station, like a fire exit, and I almost missed it – the men’s entrance is the grand one at the front. It is a 16th century hamam, all marble and wood.

The weekend (I only know what day it is because of the bookings I made) was very much a game of two halves. Thoroughly enjoyed the ferry trip up and down the Golden Horn, starting from Fener, as nearest to the homestay, and going all the way across the Bosphorus to Kadikoy on the Asian side. Had to get off and re-board to go back, but at 23 Turkish lire (c 80p) a pop, it’s a bargain. And the views are great from the water.

The end of the line, at Eyup Sultan (sounds like a Yorkshireman on a horse), was a nice discovery – local people enjoying the sunshine, eating, playing, praying (the mosque is a very popular one), shopping.

The other side of the Golden Horn, Beyoglu (the West End of Istanbul), is a completely different kettle of fish – vibrant, overcrowded, jostling, expensive, exciting, tourist-full, colourful, messy.

There was a bike ride taking place on Saturday and Sunday, ending near the Aya Sofia in Sultanahmet Square, so roads were closed and public transport, such as trams and buses, stopped short – there was chaos and mayhem around, lots of sirens going off, cars at a standstill, pedestrians everywhere, and yet everyone seemed fairly calm and patient.

(The roads are really bumpy, cobblestones and potholes, hills and unevenness everywhere – I wonder how the cyclists faired). This is not a wheelchair/pushchair friendly city. Must try and get a photo of a motorised wheelchair – not a mobility scooter.)

The dervish dance in the evening was a stately, slow ceremony – despite it being condensed into an hour, the 5 participants whirling, the two singers and the four musicians playing made it look serious and real. May have another look in Konya, the Sufi holy place.

And Sunday, I got slightly fleeced: my Istanbulkart (the Oyster equivalent, except that it’s cheaper at 15 lire a ride, even if you have to pay for each section of the journey if transfers/changes are needed) would not accept a top-up, the machines were all in Turkish only (tried several) and I was stumped. A young man came to my aid: put in my 100 lire, pressed various buttons, said, here you are, how about some baksheesh, sorry, don’t have any… when I got to tap the card, it showed the same (insufficient) amount as before : the weasely thieving magician had helped himself to my 100 lire (it’s only about £3.20, I know but I simply did not see how he did it), melted into the crowd and I was still none the wiser. Turned out I had to buy another plastic card to use – though logic escapes me.

The Egyptian Spice market may be a tourist trap, but it is pungent, colourful, inviting and exciting. Wish I could put the scent of it on the page.

Walking back to my room in the dusk, the fishermen strung along the shore like beads, patiently waiting – this is the anchovy season, and they keep the catch in plastic pails). And cats. looking as if they didn’t really care.