Türkiye sits on the ground where Europe stops and Asia begins, and more or less everyone who mattered in the history of the eastern Mediterranean came through it. The Hittites ruled the Anatolian plateau from Hattusa. Greek colonists built cities down the Aegean coast. Rome paved the roads, Byzantium raised the domes, the Seljuks left caravanserais a day's ride apart, and the Ottomans ran an empire from Istanbul for four and a half centuries. What you travel through is not a museum of any one of them. It is all of them stacked in the same landscape, and often in the same street.
Several countries' worth of weather
The coastline runs for roughly 8,000 kilometres along the Aegean, the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, and behind it the land climbs onto a high, dry plateau that keeps rising until it reaches Mount Ararat in the far east. The practical consequence is that in late April you can swim off Fethiye in the morning and want a jacket in Cappadocia the same evening. It is worth knowing before you pack.
What a small group actually does here
Our groups are capped at eight, because the good part of Türkiye tends to happen at a table rather than through a coach window. A morning on the marble street at Ephesus before the cruise-ship crowds reach it. An afternoon in a Şirince courtyard while somebody's grandmother explains what went into the dolma. A balloon over the tuff valleys around Göreme at first light, and then a walk back down through them on foot. Sunset from the terraces of Mardin, looking out over the Mesopotamian plain.
Eating is not a side activity
The food changes every few hundred kilometres: olive oil and wild herbs on the Aegean, chilli and pistachio in Gaziantep, butter and maize along the Black Sea. Breakfast — kahvaltı — is a spread of cheeses, olives, tomatoes, honeycomb, eggs and bread that takes the better part of an hour and is meant to. Tea arrives more or less continuously, in tulip-shaped glasses, and declining it is harder work than accepting.