Today is our last day in Istanbul and it began with honey and ended with honey. Our hotel serves breakfast up near the roof overlooking the Hagia Sophia mosque, and each day we nibbled walnuts and figs and sliced great slabs of honey from the comb. It is all so decadent and delicious – just how breakfast should be.

We visited the Topkapi Palace and wandered around pavilions and looked at blue tiles and filigreed doors and windows, and in the jewel room I gaped at diamonds and emeralds the size of small watermelons.

I stood in a room with the rod of Moses which was found in the 13^thC BC and saw relics of the Prophet John’s arm. Apparently all the pilgrims for Mecca started out from this palace from the beginning of the saga. It was all so unexpected. I did like the Harem and the lavish decoration, and tried to imagine the young concubines trying so hard to be chosen as ‘the favourite’.  Imagine on her CV, ‘favourite for 6 weeks,’ then what? I suppose they all hoped they would become the Queen Mother one day.

Cold slap corridors linked the bedrooms with the lounging about room and there was a walk way down to the room of the mirrors. I thought that was a bit of a let-down. There were only two gigantic ones. Not really Versailles!

All this history and beauty meant we had to sit and sip something in the extortionately priced café overlooking the Bosphorus. John went up to the counter and came back with coffee for himself and sahlep for me. Hmmm. It was hot milk with pulverized orchid roots and served with cinnamon. I managed to drink half.

I preferred the freshly squeezed pomegranate juice that we got for 5 Turkish lira at the palace gates. That was the best drink of the trip… exquisite. I had two.

And to end this last day John and I ventured into the oldest Turkish Baths in Istanbul. They were built in 1475. We were segregated of course, and I was taken into a large room with a central marble table, heated and directly under the dome. I was stripped, steamed, and then rubbed down with an abrasive oven cloth. Then I was sploshed with dippers of hot water. After that I was covered with lashings of soap, which looked a bit like an overdose of shaving cream which fizzed and felt quite tickly. My masseuse, clad only in a black bikini, pummelled and massaged, her hands strong and her body sturdy. After the soapy massage I was taken into another room and made to lie down on a marble slab and I was slathered in honey.  Handfuls of the stuff was rubbed into my back, shoulders, belly and legs, it was wonderful. I felt like the number one concubine being so deliciously pampered.  It was a bit of a comedown to return to the present . John and I compared notes, and he was equally relaxed after his experience.

Our stay here has been magical, we have sailed along the Bosphorus to the last village before arriving at the Black Sea.

We meandered through the village of Andolu Kavagi and came across a Craft Shop, and I was quite intrigued with the large life like puppets that adorned the outside, and the comical one inside.

It wasn’t till I looked closer I saw that they were protest puppets, and very anti American, British and French. One window had puppets in coffins with labels saying ‘imperialism’ and ‘fascism.’ I wasn’t really game to take any photos as there were people coming down the hill.

On the return trip back to Istanbul we passed filigreed mosques, crenelated forts and buttery yellow palaces, and as the sun set, villages nestled into the hillsides all pink and violet and soft sage greens. We sailed under the two bridges which span the Bosphorus linking Asia with Europe.

I was very intrigued with the Maiden’s tower as we sailed past. Hundreds of years ago a poor girl was imprisoned there, as her Sultan father had heard a prophesy that his daughter would die of a snake bite. He felt sure she would be safe in this lighthouse-like structure out in the middle of the river, but on her birthday a basket of fruit was delivered, and out popped a snake and that was that… Poor lass died the death that was predicted for her.

We have found our stay in Istanbul welcoming and as we strolled through the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Bazaar we were met with smiles, and a constant persuasion to buy! We only bought a ceramic pomegranate, so we did manage to resist the carpets and leather all on offer. Another time perhaps.

We ate fish sandwiches down by the bridge, watched fishermen drop their lines all along the Gelata Bridge, and climbed up the hill to the Gelata tower.

I was bewitched by a charismatic gypsy shoe cleaner, and persuaded John to ‘gie it a go’. He ended up paying a small fortune to get his shoes polished. He grumbled all the way home, saying he could have bought a pair of shoes for the price.

Last night we ate an Ottoman dinner with Charaine who I used to work with in Kiev.

I had the most delectable meal of quince stuffed with meat and almonds and surrounded with molasses. It was unique and delicious, and we walked back past the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque and the moon was full. It truly is a beautiful city.

The blue mosque was quite special, just for its size and beauty, pillars, and tiles. But while I was in there I could not escape the odour of smelly feet!

Outside there were tributes to the architects, the Sultan who commissioned it, and the family tree of Abraham comprising all 25 holy prophets right down to Jesus and Mohammed. Very interesting. As I studied it, suddenly the call to prayer sounded out and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Talk about being in the line of a fog horn.

Mosaics dominated the Hagia Sophia, which was full of Christian, pagan and Muslim references, and later we visited the mosaic museum that showed mosaics from 380 AD. For goodness sake, they could have been done yesterday. These Sultans knew how to decorate their palaces. There was a lot of killing depicted; eagles killing snakes, lions killing gazelles, men killing everything. ‘Twas ever thus.

And now we are off out to have the Last Supper. I hope there are no stray bees that smell me and find me totally delicious! Tomorrow we fly away to INDIA, with just a little sample of Turkish Delight and honey and sesame-coated pistachios. Oh it must have been wonderful in the Harem lying on soft cushions all day nibbling baklavas and sipping the odd sherbet. Good bye for now from the honey basted one!