Rising early, I wanted to see the Hippodrome in its full glory. It’s a massive square with a huge ancient race track circling it, so I wanted to stand there without another soul and imagine what it may have been like a thousand years ago when gladiators whipped their chariots around the cobblestones and their win or a loss could mean the end of a Byzantine emperor’s rule. In the ottoman years it became the centre for revolution beginnings.

Stepping out into the street I was met by grey skies and drizzling rain. And it was cold. I dashed back into the room for jacket and brolly – it’s amazing how warm the Istanbul buildings are, inside anything more than a cardie was too hot to wear.

Back outside I traipsed the quiet streets, there was only a couple of people about, a chap opening his corner store and another sweeping the road. Istanbul is exceedingly clean, for a city of its size I was surprised to see so little rubbish in the areas we had so far ventured into. I arrived at the Hippodrome and found it quiet. And indeed incredible in size and aura. The obelisks seem to soar into the sky and the rain didn’t dampen their splendour, if anything it highlighted their features giving the hieroglyphics depth and sharpness. The mosque was gently bustling with locals going in reverently to prayers and coming out in quiet chatter.