Cappadocia, Turkey

Goreme, the peaceful little village built in and around ancient volcanic rock pinnacles in central Turkey, is a welcome change from all the cities we have been spending time in recently. Sitting on the hotel terrace in the pale but warm December sun I have a perfect view of the cave houses carved into the "fairy chimney" rocks, vying with minarets to be the skyscrapers of Cappadocia. In my hand is a glass of local red wine; a ruby-red, berry-flavoured blend of two grape varieties: Okuzgozu and Bogazkere. The only sounds are emanating from birds. After an overnight train trip from Istanbul to Ankara, followed by a four-hour bus trip to get here, I decide I'm in heaven and resolve to do nothing else today but look at the view, become further acquainted with the local fermented grape juice and have dinner.

We found the latter easily - being December, the village was eerily quiet and we had the pick of the dozen or so restaurants open at this time of year. At Cappadocia Pide House, reputed to produce Goreme's best pide (Turkish pizza), we started with a spicy minced lamb version, the home-made dough fluffy and crispy in just the right places.

We opted to sample a couple of the region's own dishes next. Chicken "sac tava", a rich, tomatoey, oniony stew, arrived simmering in an iron dish on top of a paraffin flame. Much more exciting, however, was the "desti kebab" of beef, onions and spicy tomato sauce, slow-cooked in a sealed terracotta jug and presented at our table by the chef who demonstrated the correct technique for smashing the top off with a sturdy knife.

The best way to see the region's unique landforms is by hot air balloon. Early every morning, weather-permitting, a flock of balloons rises over the valley ridges near Goreme, silently drifting up and down over the fairy chimneys and ancient frescoed cave churches, as the sun creeps above the horizon and throws a gold blanket over the landscape.

  

Istanbul

It's impossible to get sick of Turkish food. After three days and countless kebabs in Istanbul I still feel like I could eat them forever. Something about char-grilled meat and spices always gets my mouth watering.

An unseasonably warm 20 degree day greeted us at Sirkeci station near the city's Sultanahmet district, which is crammed with sights including the famous Blue Mosque, Roman Hippodrome and Byzantine underground water cisterns - giant underground caverns with vaulted ceilings held up by intricately carved columns.

My highlight was the spectacular Aya Sofia. Built during Byzantine emperor Justinian's reign as an attempt to demonstrate Constantinople's power as the capital of the eastern empire, the massive domed structure dates from around 500 AD. It spent its first thousand years as a church and was converted into a mosque in the 16th century. Evidence of both incarnations remains - from intricate mosaics depicting scenes of Mary and Jesus to beautiful Arabic calligraphy. It now serves as a museum.

After a late lunch of lamb shish kebabs - cheap, cheerful and incredibly tasty - a ferry trip across the Bosphorous was a great way to unwind after a long day's sightseeing, watching the sun set behind the minarets and domes of the old city.

A change of scene was in order for the evening so we headed over the bridge to Beyoglu, the buzzing party district. It was Saturday night and the main pedestrian street was so crammed with people that the little antique tram that runs the street's length could barely squeeze through. We followed the crowds to Nevizade Sokak, one of the area's party streets. It was so crowded we could barely squeeze though between the pavement restaurant tables and the cheerful mobs of revellers. We took the first table we could find, right next to the passing crowds outside Demgar restaurant. We ordered plates of tasty mezze: lemony aubergine purée topped with garlic yoghurt; cubes of fava bean paste spiked with dill; crispy breaded fried calamari and prawns sizzling in butter, washed down with Turkish wine and raki, the local aniseed-flavoured spirit. The party carried on into the wee hours in the street and in the historic houses along its edges, which have been converted into multi-storey pubs - their roof terraces giving a bird's eye view of the crowds below.

The best kebabs we had in Istanbul were at the Grand Bazaar on our last day in the city. Hidden down a tiny alleyway deep in the souq is Carsi Kebap, no more than a hole-in-the-wall charcoal grill dishing up plates of juicy lamb, salad and flatbread to weary shoppers perched on stools at low tables in the alleyway. The place also does a roaring trade feeding some of the bazaar's 4000 stall holders, with delivery boys ferrying tray-loads of takeaway kebabs from the grill through the maze of lanes to their hungry recipients.