Istanbul for The Night Owls: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

Walk the bridge when the anglers line the rail and the mosques across the water go dark gold, then drift up through Karaköy.

Ocakbaşı means sitting by the grill; order the lamb ribs, the liver and a rakı, and talk to the cook while the skewers turn.

A basement jazz room under the Galata Tower, with live sets most nights and a ticket that varies by act; tables fill early, so arrive by ten.

A street of Ottoman bric-a-brac, brass lamps and old posters, plus a cat on every doorstep; most shops open late, which suits the afternoon.

A meyhane open since 1938, long a haunt of writers and artists; order the plates of meze, then fish, and plan to stay until midnight.

A long-running electronic-music club in a basement off İstiklal; arrive after midnight, when the dancefloor fills and the set gets serious.

The end of the night and the start of the day: the long Van breakfast, with strong tea and plates of cheese, honey and eggs.

A free exhibition space in the 1892 Ottoman Bank building; the staircase and the vaults are the first things to see, then check the current show.

A busy meyhane in a street of them: the cheese borek, the sea bass and a bottle of rakı share the table, and the room gets louder after ten.

The plotters' bar: the Orient Bar is where spies and novelists drank, so take one slow nightcap and a corner seat.

A tiny coffee stall in an alley off İstiklal; the thick, foam-topped Turkish coffee is so dense it will not spill, hence its name, which means the buffalo will not sink; it is cheap.

Go up for a last look at the Golden Horn; it is quiet at midday on a Monday, and the lift saves your legs after the night before.

A last tray of baklava from the shop that opens early and closes late; order a box for the airport and eat one in store.