Embracing Istanbul's mysteries - why 2024 is the best time for a Turkish city break

There’s no escaping the lure of history in Istanbul and few cities where you can lose yourself in the past quite so easily. Agatha Christie was just one of many seduced by this fascinating city, where she wrote Murder on the Orient Express in room 411 of Istanbul’s Pera Palace Hotel.

The story celebrates the 90th anniversary of its publication in 2024 and to this day, the room remains pretty much as it was, complete with antique typewriter.

My own Istanbul hotel room comes with a quirky story too. Once a Turkish prison, built in 1912, the building has been reimagined as Four Seasons Sultanahmet (named for the city’s most historic district), and is a beacon for luxury amid a glut of dusty old hotels.

I’m following in the incarcerated footsteps of renowned Turkish writers, poets, and political activists, although unlike them I’m free to come and go as I please. “It’s the only prison you’ll never want to leave,” the porter had joked as he guided me to my plush room.

Furnished with original artworks and hand-woven kilim rugs, it looks out on to a flower-filled courtyard (once the exercise yard), where waiters ferry reviving cocktails to travel-fatigued guests.

The restoration from run-down jailhouse to luxurious hotel wasn’t quite as difficult as you may imagine. Originally designed as an opulent guesthouse, the architecture is hugely appealing with vaulted ceilings, marble pillars, beautifully tiled floors, and fairy-tale turrets (that once served as watch towers).

Firmly of the Agatha Christie era, it feels like the kind of place the crime writer might have chosen to incarcerate one of her villains.

Four Seasons Sultanahmet hotel

I find an old key in my room with an invitation to unlock the building’s secrets alongside resident storyteller Busra Yazlik, who guides me through the property. Perhaps the most surprising discovery is a prettily tiled bijoux mosque, entered through heavy iron gates, where both captives and captors came to pray.

However, it’s a clumsily scratched inscription from prisoner, Sofor Niyazi on a marble pillar in a first-floor corridor that moves me most.

Below his name is the date, 1935, and a heart with an arrow flying through it, and I wonder what this love-struck inmate did to end up here.

Sultanahmet itself is home to the Blue Mosque, Topkapi Palace, and Hagia Sophia — Christie’s most famous detective, Hercule Poirot, makes a visit here in Murder on the Orient Express.

Located on one side of the Golden Horn, the 4.7-mile-long estuary connects the Bosphorus with the Sea of Marmara. Whatever side you are on, locals speak of “karsi taraf” — on the other side, leaving plenty of room for amusing confusion.

To explore Istanbul’s Jewish history, I head to the old Jewish quarter of Balat, where colourful houses are painted in tangerine and kingfisher blue, in keeping with its burgeoning street art scene.

The colourful Balat district

Compared to other neighbourhoods, time here appears to stand a little stiller and I tuck away my map, following stray cats down small winding alleys to discover a street artist at work creating a stirring mural, or a hole-in-the-wall gallery showcasing the work of local artists.

Of Istanbul’s old synagogues, the Ahrida is the oldest and continuously active, founded in the 15th century. This and nearby Yanbol synagogue take their names from the Macedonian towns that founding congregations hailed from, back in Byzantine times.

However, it was Jews from the Iberian Peninsula who added the splendour of its domed ceiling, painted with floral motifs so typical of the Ottoman era.

Don’t miss the wooden Ichtipol Synagogue with its stunning circular stained-glass windows showing double entwined Stars of David, founded at the very start of the Ottoman Empire.

It has been destroyed by fire several times, but what you see today has lasted since 1903. Opposite are two of Balat’s most beautiful houses with wooden facades and carved decoration that were once the homes of Jewish merchants.

The area has a thriving café/teahouse scene including cosy Abracadabra Café, housed in an old Turkish bathhouse (melt-in-the-mouth buttery pancakes are popular here), and Dukan famous for its bread and pastries.

Hunkar is perhaps the most atmospheric, located in a restored Ottoman house with a lovely terrace making it perfect for people watching. But sticking with my Agatha Christie theme, I curl up on a cushion at the Orient Express Tea House and order mint tea and a portion of baklava dripping with honey.

Across the Golden Horn, the Museum of Turkish Jews has, among its impressive collection, an 18th century commentary on the Torah written in Ladino, also known as Judeo-Spanish, a now dying language, which was spoken widely in Istanbul until one generation ago. The local newspaper Salom was also published in this language from 1947 to 1983, when it then switched to Turkish.

Galataport

Heading down to Istanbul’s other famous waterfront, the sparkling new multi-use development of Galataport overlooks the Bosphorus, a reminder that there is far more than history to explore in this city.

The stirring photography of Turkish film maker and photographer, Nuri Bilge Ceylan, is difficult to drag your eyes away from at the Istanbul Modern, which opened in May.

Impressive too is Refik Anadol’s infinity room with its shimmering blue and white liquid shapes and patterns created by real-time environmental data taken from the Bosphorus.

This wonderful showcase for contemporary Turkish art is surrounded by classy shops and restaurants, although it does lack the atmosphere that draws visitors back to Istanbul over and over.

Back on the history trail — and back on karsi taraf — I call in at Sirkeci Station, where well-heeled travellers arrived on the Orient Express. Apart from its impressive brick façade, it’s unassuming when compared to the grandeur of the train, but even so, I manage to conjure up a vision of Christie in her tweeds accompanied by a horde of baggage porters on the platform.

Nearby is the Spice Bazaar and Grand Bazaar — listed as the world’s most visited tourist attraction in 2014 — where, under painted vaulted ceilings, I browse a fraction of the thousands of the small shops in this vast shopping area, trading since 1461.

My eye is caught by glinting copper teapots, kilims of rich burgundy and creamy white (with cats curled contentedly upon them), pottery with pomegranate designs, and piles of Turkish delight (“Please Madam! You are welcome! Try before you buy.”) but I save my bartering skills for a pair of soft leather slippers.

Cat asleep in the Grand Bazaar

At Sahaflar Carsisi (the old book bazaar), I’m thrilled to pick up a well-thumbed edition of Christie’s And Then There Were None.

At cocktail hour, I head to the Orient Bar of the Pera Palace Hotel, to continue in the author’s footsteps.

Built in 1892 to accommodate passengers arriving on the Orient Express, it was the embodiment of elegance and luxury, attracting guests such as Queen Elizabeth II, Alfred Hitchcock, Jacqueline Onassis, Ernest Hemingway and Kemal Ataturk, founder of the Turkish republic, whose favourite Room 101 is now a museum.

Originally guests were carried from the Orient Express to the hotel by sedan chair but I arrive on foot as the sun is setting over the Golden Horn.

The Pera Palace has played its part in my own story too. Some years ago, my boyfriend (now husband, Neil) parked me in an enormous armchair, ordered two dry martinis and went down on one knee to propose. Unlike Greta Garbo, just one of the Pera’s famous visitors, I did not “want to be alone” so took him up on his offer.

Make sure to pop into the Patisserie de Pera where éclairs, macaroons and meringues are piled high, and see the wrought-iron birdcage lift (the first electrical-powered elevator of its kind).

The Four Seasons has its own enviable cocktail spot, and from my perch at Sureyya Teras rooftop lounge, I watch as Hagia Sophia is bathed in rosy tones at sunset.

My neighbour, a gentleman in horn-rimmed spectacles and a crumpled cream suit, is busy scribbling in a notebook. Writer? Film producer? Detective? Well, that’s up to me, because, as Christie discovered, Istanbul is a city where imagination takes flight.