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View accompanying photo galleries here and here. Takes all the willpower in the world and running out of chocolate baklava to leave. I spend nearly a month in Istanbul. The roads are ten lanes wide. The hills are practically vertical. My hosts are a lovely bunch, for a start. Four days later I am ready to eat again. I then impose myself on a lovely American couple, K and B, who have a stunning apartment with panoramic views of the Bosphorus, before catching a ferry to the Anatolian side of the city where most people live to spend my final few days with a friendly young chap from the cycling website Warmshowers.
From these friends and other contacts I make during my stay in Istanbul — a medley of lawyers, activists, journalists and NGO workers — I start to piece together my fragmented understanding of Turkish culture and politics. The majority of this involves food, and can be summarised as follows:.
K and B treat me to a real humdinger, including bread, egg, cheeses, olives, tomatoes, cucumbers, dips spinach, cheese, tahini, chilli , Nutella, honey, clotted cream and endless tea. Topkapi Palace harem, the most stunning part of the building. I learn a few things that are not food-related too. I learn that everyone is born a Muslim and needs a court order to change this. I learn that weddings last for days and everyone gives gifts made from gold.
I learn that tea is not just a drink, but the lifeblood of social cohesion. I learn sex pests are common, in all shapes and sizes. And that women outside the cities rarely socialise in public.