By Rory Winston
Here in the shadow of minarets - where golden palaces wrestle for space amongst markets brimming with crimson, lime, and amber colored spices - I sit… all of Europe behind me and all of Asia ahead. The music of both worlds floats down the Bosphorus. To the right: the Aegean; to the left: the Black sea; underfoot: the many civilizations that had left their mark - Dorian, Persian, Roman, Byzantine… and, of course, the Ottoman age with its enduring legacy of religious tolerance. It’s been a year since Ataturk died but his spirit can still be felt. The secular republic remains free of ruling Sultans and caliphs. The scent of apricots, yoghurt, walnuts and melons fill the air. There are many of us here, many who have lived for centuries free of persecution. I implore you all, come!