Turkey is a whirl of glorious contradictions: Sufi mystics and glamorous pop stars; sweet baklava and bitter coffee; shopping malls and old bazaars, where deals are still done over thimbles of hot tea with a generous dose of wit.

Istanbul is the biggest paradox of all, European and Asian, secular metropolis and cradle of faith. It is as complex as the mosaics of the Topkapı Palace, but listen to the prayers in Süleymaniye Mosque or the twinkle-eyed gossip over plates of meze, and the city begins to reveal her bewitching, bewildering self. There is fantastical Cappadocia, a moonscape of ochre rock formations, and Pamukkale, where thermal waters cascade over pearly travertine terraces. Discoveries await underground, too: the subterranean city of Kaymaklı beguiles with its warren of eighth-century chambers and passageways. Where the Taurus Mountains plunge into the Aegean, hikers tread the Lycian Way, their path fragrant with orange blossom. The fallen are remembered in the WWI cemeteries of Gallipoli. In the harbors of Bodrum, Izmir and Marmaris, the sails of gület yachts flutter, and fishermen still reap the bounty of Poseidon’s seas. Indeed, the gods’ ancient treasures litter these shores: Ephesus, Knidos and Halicarnassus buttress a nation locked in a thrilling dance between history and modernity.