For the sheer magnificence of its geography, and the layers on layers on layers, there’s nowhere like it on earth.

Perched at the cultural crossroads of north, south, east and west, Istanbul is so utterly mesmerizing that, were you to try describe it to someone in a land far away, they simply wouldn’t believe such a place really existed at all.

I first visited the city twenty years ago, and soon found myself obsessed. I’ve travelled back and forth many times since then – seeking out secret corners and alluring characters for my collection.

The most important thing about Istanbul is to take it slow.

I like to sit all day in cafés.

Take unhurried ferries.

Amble around Sinan’s mosques.

Eat baklava.

Eat more baklava.

And while away the hours, the days and the weeks in cafés – pondering grand questions.

Most of which never really had a certain answer.

One thing is for certain though: Istanbul is far more than a city.

It’s a way of life – one that runs to its own rhythm, and on its own time.

A place so elegant it touches you deep down in your lower ribs. You find yourself wondering how it ever came to be, and why other cities haven’t somehow cloned the magic.

But, of course, they can’t.

This last week, while visiting Istanbul, I overheard a German tourist asking for directions, not far from the Pera Palace Hotel. He was hot and hurried, and was clearly overwhelmed.

The owner of the newspaper booth at which he was hoping to be set straight, took a long slow drag at his filterless cigarette, and winced as the smoke furled up into his eyes.

‘There,’ he said pointing vaguely in the distance. ‘You go there.’

‘But where exactly do I go?’ the tourist asked. ‘I need exact directions. You see, I am very late.’

‘Up street.’

‘Left? Right? Straight?’

‘Yes.’

‘No. No. I am asking you which is it?’

‘Left or right or straight?’

‘Up.’

‘Up?!’

The newspaper seller sat down on his stool and his head disappeared from view. As far as he was concerned, the act of charity was at an end.

I stepped over and offered to help the fellow traveller in need.

He was from Münich, was called Wilfred, and was extremely keen to be friendly.

‘That man told me to go UP!’ he said. ‘Can you believe it?’

I nodded.

‘Yes, I can,’ I said.

‘But I need precise directions. Because I will follow them precisely,’ Wilfred said.

I looked at his map, and offered a route.

The Bavarian beamed at me joyously.

‘You understand,’ he said.

‘I understand East and West,’ I replied. ‘You are from the West. And this is the East. What works in one doesn’t necessarily work in the other.’

‘But why?’

‘Because, one of the big differences between Orient and Occident is a sense of time.’

Wilfred from Münich looked alarmed.

‘I am late,’ he said.

‘Are you sure that you are?’

The German nodded once. Then again.

‘Oh, yes, positive.’

Then I did something I have not done before.

I asked Wilfred to take off his wristwatch and give it to me to hold.

He didn’t quite understand at first. But, when I had asked a second time, and added a smile, he did as I requested.

I reached over and slipped the watch into his blazer pocket.

‘You’ll find things go much smoother now,’ I said.