She was founded by the Greek colonist Byzas, who gave the city her first name: Byzantium, which became part of the Roman Empire in 64 BC. When Constantine The Great became sole ruler of the Roman Empire in 324 AD, he took on the ambitious plan to move the capital of the Empire from Rome to Byzantium. He was swayed by the city's superior position for trade and defense, as well as her natural beauty. Along the way he created a coherent system of Christian beliefs, did some serious editing of the ancient texts, and launched the Catholic Church. Constantine wanted his new city to be called "New Rome" but it quickly became known as Constantinople, literally meaning Constantine's City.

Over the next thousand years the city became an oasis of learning, law, art and culture, as well as massively rich and powerful. It was one of the few bright spots during the Dark Ages. Constantinople remained Christian until the rise of the Ottoman Empire in the 14th century when Osman I brought Muslim warriors from the East and captured the city. Sultan Maehmet II rebuilt the crumbling city following the Muslim conquest but now that it was no longer Christian, it needed a new name. And like the old song says: "Istanbul is not Constantinople" was born again.

It was during the Ottoman Empire that the churches were converted to mosques and the tall, slender minarets were added to the existing buildings. These gorgeous pieces of architecture are where the calls to prayer are sung. The beautiful melancholy chants are sung from the minarets five times a day, and can still be heard all across the city. The grand Ottoman society with its sumptuous palaces, harems and eunuchs finally came to an end in 1923, when the modern Turkish Republic was formed. Yes, this Old Whore has seen it all, and I couldn't wait to get to know her.

Istanbul is a four hour flight from London, and we made the trip with our girlie friends Gery and Rasha. We checked into a quirky hotel with a labyrinth of hallways, fake Roman columns and far too many chandeliers. Freddie and I had a large room with four windows while the girls were banished to a pokey little cabin at the end of the building even though we had paid the same amount. I put this down to the fact that men are simply more important in Turkish society. At least our western girls didn't have to wear head scarves like the local women!

We set out for a good walk around the Old Town and made our way down to the famous harbour known as The Golden Horn. This waterway has been the life blood of the city for millennia and it is still a focal point for the locals. The Galata Bridge spans the Golden Horn and old men still fish for their dinner from its upper deck. Under its archways are chic cafes serving strong Turkish coffee and sweetened tea. The views in every direction are inspiring, and the city feels both ancient and thriving with people. The official population is eleven million souls, but the actual count is probably far greater. The city also teams with a huge feral cat population. They are very much a part of the landscape and have been here for a thousand years keeping the vermin in check. In every direction men are walking arm in arm with each other and in groups through the crowded streets. Women for the most part live a more domestic life, venturing out only on Fridays for their shopping. The Turks are merchants by trade and everywhere at every step someone is trying to sell you something. But it is all done with a smile, and never in a threatening way. Crime is relatively low for such a huge bustling city.

We walked through the ancient aromatic spice bazaar where we bought tea, spices and coffee from the same stalls where they have been sold for a thousand years. We ventured into the enormous Grand Bazaar where hundreds upon hundreds of small vault-like shops spill their wares into the cramped streets. Rugs, gold, housewares, textiles and souvenirs are on offer from relentless shopkeepers in their quest for a sale. Freddie and I were taken by the beauty of the hand made glass mosaic lamps and we decided we must have one for our apartment in London. I was ready to fork over 390 Lire (about $250) when Rasha's friend who is Turkish stepped in to do the haggling for me. I walked out of there with a gorgeous chandelier for half the price I would have paid for it.

As dusk settled on the city we sat down for drinks on a roof top terrace with views of her most famous landmarks. The Haghia Sophia (meaning The Church of the Holy Wisdom) was built in 537 AD. It was a Christian church for its first thousand years and then was converted to a mosque in the 15th century. The ancient Christian mosaics can still be seen beneath the Muslim calligraphy in its massive vaulted rooms. Because of its age, its beauty and its unique history, Haghia Sophia is considered to be one of the greatest architectural achievements in the world.  And directly across from it lies the magnificent Blue Mosque. The largest mosque outside of Mecca, and one of the most beautiful religious buildings in all the world. Serene, huge and gorgeous it is at its most magical in the early evening when the flood lights come on and the seagulls are still circling between its six minarets. 

Our stay in Istanbul coincided with the end of Ramazan, and we were treated to the celebrations that mark the end of the month of day-time fasting. It seemed that every resident in the city was out in the public squares rejoicing in the warm evening air. Food stalls were set up everywhere, stages with music and subtle dancing, tea vendors were making the rounds, and everyone was smiling, chatting and making merry.

One of the evenings we crossed the Galata Bridge to explore the Beyoglu district. This neighborhood rises up a steep hill from the Golden Horn and has always been a favorite place for the city's many foreign residents. The foreign embassies are here among the wide streets and the shopping is more international. The main boulevard is pedestrian only and is positively buzzing all day and night. The best restaurants are in this part of town, and we had a superb and inexpensive meal with the girls before heading out to the jam-packed bars. Low and behold, there are even a few gay bars standing out and proud in this Muslim city! A first from my knowledge.

Since Istanbul is surrounded by water the best way to get around is often by boat. A boat trip from the Galata Bridge across the Bosphorus to the Asian side of the city costs just one dollar. Thousands make this thirty minute commute every day. The Asian side is more mundane than the glamorous European side, but it offers fabulous views of the city and the waterways surrounding it. It is also a thrill to go to another continent just for a cup of coffee!

No trip to Istanbul would be complete with out a visit to a hamam. The four of us found one of the ancient bathhouses near our hotel that had facilities for both men and women. The girls were quickly ushered off into another part of the building, while Freddie and I were handed thin, traditional red stripped cloths and sternly pointed into a large domed room with a giant slab of hot marble in the middle. From what we could gather, we were supposed to lie on the hot marble to relax and heat up our muscles. I found this all a bit strange, and Freddie found it downright uncomfortable and quickly proceeded to hightail it out of there. But I was determined to follow through with the experience so I laid there feeling like a piece of bacon in a skillet for twenty minutes or so. Then a thickset Turk with hands like shovels came over and scrubbed me up and down for a few minutes before unceremoniously dousing me with several buckets of cold water. Then I was dragged into a side room where another brute covered me in oil and pummeled me for thirty long minutes. My spa experiences to date have nothing in common with my hour in the Turkish hamam. There was no soft music, no terry cloth robes or iced lemon water, and certainly no soft spoken sensual masseurs. Oh no. When I limped out of the hamam I felt like a lamb that had been dressed and cleaned for the butcher shop window.

Our final afternoon we spent exploring the huge sprawling complex of the Topkapi Palace, which is now the most important of the city's museums. The palace was built in 1459 by the Sultan Mehmet II and served as a royal palace, seat of government, the treasury and the royal mint for the Ottoman Empire. During their 470 year reign the Ottomans amassed a glittering collection of treasures, which are all on display here along with imperial costumes, historical texts, and sublime examples of Ottoman calligraphy. Also within the palace walls is the Royal Harem. I was so intrigued with this! The word harem means "forbidden" in Arabic and it was the residence of the sultans multitude of wives, concubines and children. It was always guarded by the strongest black slave eunuchs, and only the sultan and his sons were allowed to visit. All the women of the harem were captured from the farthest corners of the Empire and they were all considered slaves regardless if they were married to the sultan or not. At one point in the palaces history, there were over one thousand women vying for the attention of one over-fed man. Even though this sounds like ancient history, the last women left the harem at Topkapi Palace in 1909, just one hundred years ago.

This goes a long way in explaining why such a huge, modern city like Istanbul still hides away and covets its female population. Freddie and I, being fully Westernized, consider our female companions to be on equal footing with us in every way. That is why when we left the hotel we made Rasha and Gery carry their own luggage, and split the bill for the taxi to the airport.