Culture & Travel

At night, from the window of a fifth-story cafe on Istiklal Caddesi in Taksim, five glowing monuments can be seen amidst the encompassing darkness - the Hagia Sophia, an ex-Christian, centuries old church-turned-mosque; the Galata Tower, built in the 1300's by Romans back when the city was known as Constantinople; Topkapi Palace, an extravagant saray established by Mehmet the Conquerer following his victory over the Byzantines; one of three major bridges connecting the continent of Europe with the continent of Asia; and the famous Sultan Ahmet Mosque, colloquially known as the Blue Mosque and the second holiest site in Islam. To locals, it is an everyday sight. To foreigners, it's a surreal view.

A stretch of dark, ominous area between the two continents is the Boğaz, or the Bosphorus straits - one of the world's most important shipping and military routes. Across the opaque waters, lit only by the lights of apartments and houses on the waterfront barely visible from the European cafe, is the Asian half of Istanbul. In the streets of Kadıköy, the bottom levels of buildings are composed of bustling cafes, noisy birahanes, and traditional Turkish restaurants with small apartments overtop, resembling its European counterparts but with a distinguished Asian aura. A short walk from this area brings you to a waterfront park, where teenagers play pick-up games of futbol and basketball, couples sit in each other's arms on the grass, and stray cats dash to-and-fro.

It was Napoleon Bonaparte, the respected and feared French general, who asserted that Istanbul should be the world's capital. After spending one week in the city, looking out onto the continent of Asia while dining with beautiful Turkish girls, listening to the melodies of street buskers playing trumpets, accordions and sazs, discussing politics with chain-smoking taxi drivers, and embracing world-class Turkish hospitality, I'm surprised it isn't the capital already.

Of course, like any city, Istanbul has its own drawbacks. Spending an hour or two in traffic becomes rather monotonous after exhausting all imaginable car games; gypsy kids can really make a fool out of you and clean out your wallet if you are not careful; and the ever present threat of a terrorist attack has everyone on edge. But with a tiny dose of adventure and a very basic understanding of the Turkish language, foreigners can have the time of their lives in Istanbul.

The city, much like the rest of Turkey, is divided between liberal-thinking students, hard-line, conservative Muslims, Syrian refugees, Kurdish minorities and an authoritarian government headed by the soon-to-be caliph, President Tayyip Erdoğan. In 2013, these divisions erupted in what is known as the Gezi Park protests, which centred around Taksim Square and spread to the rest of the country.

Starting as a peaceful gathering on the grounds of Gezi Park to oppose the ruling party's decision to build a shopping mall on the city's only nature reserve, the protests quickly took on a revolutionary, anti-government motif which highlighted the left/right divisions of the Turkish people. After four months of revolt and the deaths of 22 protesters, the quarrel had been subdued by the Turkish police and military forces, with little political change following afterwards. Thousands had been arrested and some are imprisoned or awaiting judgement today.

My last night in Istanbul was, coincidentally, election day in Turkey - a day of great importance and high tensions. Before leaving the place I was staying, I checked the most recent vote counts. Unsurprisingly, the authoritarian, Islamo-fascist AK Parti was projected to win a majority - nearly surpassing the 335-seat threshold that would allow the AKP to rewrite the constitution and give President Erdoğan greater administrative powers.

I met with a friend in Beşiktaş, a popular European district, and sat down for çay at a local cafe while we both waited for the results to finalize. My friend was visibly worried - as were all Turks that day. Around nine o'clock, my friend's father called to tell us the results: fortunately the 335-seat threshold had not been surpassed by Erdoğan's party, however he had succeeded in solidifying a majority government by winning elections across western, central and north-eastern Anatolia, including my city, Ankara. Another four years of democratic dictatorship by the far-right AK Parti had been set in stone.

We finished our drinks and decided to meet with our friends at a nearby restaurant. On the streets, we were met by cars honking their horns and flying AK Party flags, small protests, and rock-throwers taking aim at anyone who celebrated Erdoğan's victory. We ran to the restaurant and sought refuge with our friends until the street activity died down.

In all, Istanbul, in just one week, revealed to me its true colours. It is a city where ancient history and modernism combine; where Western and Eastern cultures mingle; where the warmth of the Turkish people wards off the cool breezes sweeping over the Bosphorus. It is a place you go to lose and find yourself. It is a place where a piece of you remains forever, among the Ottoman relics, bustling crowds and breathtaking scenery, and a piece of the city stays in your heart, wherever you go.

Undoubtedly, it is the capital of the world.