When I went to photograph my friend's new baby earlier in the week she told me that part of the name of our street means moat, so it was once part of the system of walls and water that protected this historic hill. We certainly feel as if we live in a castle. For the first time in my life I have a (working!) dishwasher, a bath, a tumble-dryer and a home I could throw a party in. There is also the non-stop party that goes on outside our 'palace' because this is perhaps the most free and energetic part of town (though so mixed is this area that at the other end of our street, where shoe-shiners congregate by the mosque, it is not possible to buy alcohol). We are all getting used to new characters and sounds:  pigeons cooing, a cruise ship departing or red-jumper man having an argument with the pavement. We are learning the spots where drunks and dogs sleep, where the most delicious things can be eaten, where to escape the crowds.

There is though a troubling aspect to feeling like kings of our castle and that is that this neighbourhood, once glorious but recently rife with drugs and prostitution, is so newly improved that the mix of fortune here is extreme. Wealthy ex-pats live next to slums. A building can be dire at ground level while the inhabitants at the top have commissioned architects to make modern changes, whilst preserving frescoes and marble. To live a life that would be considered normal in the UK or Finland places us firmly amongst the 'haves' in a city that contains far, far too many 'have-nots'. We will have to get used to living with the dangers that such inequalities bring whilst remaining angry and sorrowful about the unacceptable conditions in which so many we share these streets with live.

Galata has always been the district of the 'other': Greek, Italian, Armenian, French, Jew, Catholic. I have a slight shame that it is the first place I have felt really comfortable since I got to Turkey, that my plans to integrate never came to much. But oh how I love it here. And I promise, I really do, that we will finally, five years since I arrived in Turkey, have a party!

A few notes about the pictures: I took a picture of Galata Tower from our apartment and then the other way round. The tourist shops Anton is looking at are on the street that begins at the corner of ours (Galip Dede). The graffiti child is just near our building. I photographed the construction of the new metro bridge from Eminönü. The writing on the wall says 'whoever throws rubbish here is without honour'. I took the picture across the Golden Horn from us in an area where beautiful old houses are now crumbling slums. The rather theatrical ducks were also taken there while people were leaning out of the windows to laugh at their posing. A really happy moment. From our apartment we watch cruise ships come and go, and the picture of Anton photographing me is taken in Karaköy, where they dock. One of the kids favourite things to do is eat fried hamsi (anchovies) or fish sandwiches at Karaköy fish market, where you can see Anton dawdling, eating hazelnuts he has just bought from a street vendor.

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