Like an eastern cousin to the old quarter of Lisbon, the winding, steep streets are too narrow for vehicles in many parts, while the only sound to accompany your footsteps during a stroll may be that of the call to prayer. He goes on to speak of the abandoned wooden Tekkes (lodges used for gatherings of members of Sufi Muslim brotherhoods), 'a house leaning to one side in a way that defies perspective,' or 'a cascade of domes and rooftops, a row of houses with crooked window casings.'Īpart from the ethnic make-up of its people, little has changed over the past 60-plus years in much of this area, best known as the location for the districts of Balat and Fener. Recalling the attraction of these parts, Pamuk writes of the beauty residing in 'its crumbling city walls, in the grass, ivy weeds and trees I remember growing from the towers and walls'. Today its identity is primarily Muslim, and although the local community is more conservative then elsewhere in the city - headscarves and Chadors are the norm – its inhabitants are no less friendly to visitors.

Photograph: Peter Blakely/Corbis SabaĪ good place to start is the city's highest point, where the 16th-century Mihrimah Sultan mosque nestles atop a labyrinth of streets leading downhill towards the banks of the Golden Horn.Ī number 87 bus from Taksim Square, or a 28 and 86 from Eminonu, all stop at a decent starting point for a stroll along the remains of the city's ancient walls, a favourite place for the ramblings of Pamuk and other writers fascinated with the city's western districts.Ĭonsiderably less affluent than the bustling commercial districts around Beyoglu and Sultanahmet, few tourists take time to explore this working class quarter, once home to Istanbul's Greek and Jewish minorities.

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