Issue link: http://digital.canadawide.com/i/597384
This city is pulsating. Except for the traffic, which sits at a standstill. I'm travelling with a group and we're under the wing of Trafalgar travel director Yesim Guris. Our coach makes its way through the congested streets to Sultanahmet, Istanbul's Old City. It's Saturday and we walk with throngs of tourists from all over the world from one incredible site to another, starting with the Hagia Sophia. First completed in AD 537, it's a Byzantine architectural masterpiece. Its dome reaches more than 50 metres high, and inside are beautiful mosaics and gold- detailed tiles. Directly across from it stands the Blue Mosque, its six minarets reaching for the sky and 20,000 turquoise- and blue-patterned tiles lining the walls inside. Built from 1609 to 1616, it is relatively young compared to some other stops in Sultanahmet. Further on, we climb the steps down into the dank and dark Basilica Cistern, an ancient water reserve built in the Byzantine period, where fish swim eerily around column bases in the dimly lit water. At sprawling Topkapı Pal- ace, once home to Ottoman rulers from the 1460s to the 1850s, jewels, gowns and intri- cately printed Korans laced with golden touches are on display. I walk the grounds in the fresh air to escape all the people and imag- ine what it would have been like hundreds of years ago. And, oh, the Grand Bazaar, which goes on forever in winding alleys lined with shops selling trinkets, tapestries and T-shirts. My haggling skills are timid at best, but we're told to try and bargain down to about half the quoted price. I brace myself to make a deal and thumb a pair of patterned harem pants. "How much?" I ask. "One for 30 lira, two for 50." I try two for 40, but he tells me it's "not possible." I back down and pay up, and we go on to make friendly small talk about Canada and the weather. Everywhere we go there are stands selling freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, which is deep red and delicious and just may be the elixir of youth. I wish I could drink it every day. Independent Avenue in Taksim Square has a fun, energetic vibe. One evening a few of us veer off onto the adjoining streets to smoke fruity shisha and drink apple tea. Another night we find ourselves in Asmali Mescitat at a small bar playing remixed pop songs and mod- ern, high-energy Turkish music. People dance on chairs. I speak with a local named Ali, who tells me he's lived in many places around the world but has come back to the city for its beauty, chaos, culture and diversity. "You can go to a roof bar in Pera district and see the thousand-year-old structures as a background to your sunset drink." Life in this city seems totally cosmopolitan. e first day outside of Istanbul, we drive to Gallipoli and visit sites of the tragic battle dur- ing the First World War, where a devastating number of men – mostly British, French and Australian, along with many Turks – lost their lives. At Lone Pine, where the graves of so many are lined up, we see rows and rows of markers for soldiers aged 18, 21, 23. Uphill, overlooking long-abandoned trenches, are lush forests, farmlands and calm, stunning coves. We take a quick ferry across the Darda- nelles to Çanakkale Province, a region known for its sardines and anchovies. We're officially (clockwise from right) Istanbul's Golden Horn waterway; ceramics on display at the Grand Bazaar; Turkish pretzels; Hektor Wine House in Çanakkale Province; craftsman pottery; the ancient marble facade of Ephesus' Library of Celsus.