Istanbul

Istanbul is busy with other things.

Every morning it moves millions of people between its shores, bargains, builds, honks, feeds the seagulls, sells simit, closes million-dollar deals — and remains completely indifferent as yet another person sees the Bosphorus for the first time.

It runs straight through it.

Ferries become public transport. Palaces stand beside offices. Old wooden houses coexist with glass towers. And around a single corner, the price of a square metre can change almost as abruptly as Istanbul itself.

Which is why “I want to live in Istanbul” is not enough when choosing property here.

First you have to decide which Istanbul.

The fast, vertical business city. An old house among streets that remember empires. A contemporary residence above the Bosphorus. Or a family neighbourhood where, after a month, the man in the little shop already knows which bread you buy.

Here, an address is more than a line on a document.

It defines the rhythm of your day, the journey to work, the people around you, the view from your window — and very often, the value of the decision itself.

Istanbul can exhaust you. Irritate you. Make you swear that this time you really are leaving.

And then the ferry pulls away from the pier, the city begins to glow on both sides of the Bosphorus, a glass of hot tea appears in front of you — and suddenly it is difficult to remember exactly where you were planning to go.

Perhaps that is why Istanbul is rarely just a city.

It tends to become a relationship