As the seat of an ancient empire, the bridging place of continents and the passage between two great seas, Istanbul was bound to hold lessons for a traveller. Where better to learn about friendship and bonding with one's fellow man - or indeed, well-heeled woman?

A new tour company, Kindred Spirits, promised companionship with like-minded independent travellers. I was sent my tickets in a tan leather travelling wallet, embossed with the company logo - small enough to fit your Louis Vuitton handbag, if too big to slip discreetly into a Prada jacket pocket. In other words, perfect accessories to help identify your Kindred Spirits at the airport and scope them from a safe distance.

The brainchild of Dorothy Tsitouras, Kindred Spirits aims to match the discerning holidaymaker with others of the same ilk. Despite my instinct to be unsociable (it was early on a Tuesday morning), we were seated together on the plane and I soon found myself in the midst of several mature, self-confessed blinging blondes having a breakfast G&T.

All clients of Dorothy's travel agency, 2001 Travel, the Spirits were variously single, divorced, or with a husband or partner unavoidably detained elsewhere: people who wanted to go and stay somewhere swish and exotic without being herded around as a group, yet not to be left entirely alone.

Our home in Istanbul was the Ciragan Palace Hotel Kempinski - a hotel so swish you would feel relaxed if you were sunbathing beside your worst enemy, let alone a new friend. Once the residence of the last of the Ottoman sultans, the Cirigan is a gorgeous, opulent building on the European banks of the Bosphorus. From room to restaurant, little edible treats appeared as if by magic; down by the pool, robes and towels were proffered to swimmers as they stepped from the pool. At one point, the pool attendants offered to clean one of our party's Gucci sunglasses.

That evening we ate superb Ottoman dishes in the hotel's Tugra restaurant, sipped drinks at the jazz bar, and then retired to our rooms (32 TV channels including one from Azerbaijan). I drifted off into a fitful sleep, troubled by one thought: had I really bonded as well as I could?

I resolved to get to know my Kindred Spirits better the next day. At the rather beautiful breakfast buffet, I paused in awe around the fruit and charcuterie selection. Judy, a Soho-based image consultant and stylist, concurred: "I've seen a lot of breakfasts but this is something special." Five minutes later, we were seated outside; Judy, with magnificent indifference, enjoying a simple plate of two fried eggs and chips.

With barely time for me to scrape the surface of the cake counter, we made our way to the air-conditioned minibus for a sightseeing tour of Istanbul's highlights: the Blue Mosque, the Ayasofya museum, the Topkapi palace. As the setting for a 1960s crime caper, the palace provoked a flurry of excitement, with one of our party reminiscing about a lovely day she once spent with the star, Peter Ustinov.

"Girls, go see those jewels!" said Dorothy. They and I charged through the Topkapi treasury, disdaining the smaller rocks until we reached the room that features the emerald-encrusted Topkapi dagger, and, even more alluring, the 86-carat Spoonmaker's Diamond.

These splendours were never going to diminish a lady's appetite to shop, and the Spirits asked the bus driver to drop us off at the bazaar. On the journey out, we got to grips with the currency. There are a lot of zeros on the Turkish lira notes, but Carla, a mature student, and Katie, a legal secretary, devised a system: "This one is a pashmina, that's a taxi home."

The bazaar is a large warren of covered passages selling ceramics, leather, jewels and various other goods. I didn't really want to buy anything, which had the unexpected effect of making me, according to the irate shopkeepers, a stony hearted haggler, refusing their wares even at prices that would leave their children hungry. I became racked with guilt and felt a little alone. In the distance I saw some other Spirits peering at jewellery and smiling together. It would indeed be nice if I had a new friend here, I realised; this holiday concept was genius.

Alone, though, I decided to go off and explore other parts of Istanbul. I took a cab up to Taksim, roamed the back streets, and, in a moment of peckish madness, indulged in a plate of chicken. This fowl, slow burning in my bowels, proved to be my nemesis.

Let us skip forward through an unsettled night to the next morning where, back at the Hotel Cirygan, the pool is a riot of leopard-print bikinis. Despite being a man accused of holidaying for a living, I find I have the worst tan here.

My stomach is playing up something rotten, and while the other Kindred Spirits order bottles of wine and bowls of raspberries, I content myself with a solitary gin and tonic in an attempt to nuke the bugs in my guts. (Travel editor's tip: this doesn't work.)

The others are a picture of contentment. How was it? "Perfect," says Judy. Katie agrees: "Nobody knew anybody when we started and here we are all chatting." Is it a woman thing, I wonder? "Why shouldn't men come?" argues Sue, an ex-advertising type now running a bathroom business. "I think if men knew there were all these single women coming along, they'd be here like a shot."

I nod sadly. I can't help feeling, at some subliminal level, that my stomach cramps are punishment for flouting the Kindred Spirits ethos and exploring alone. Why did I ever want to leave all this?

On the bus to the airport, the others are in fine fettle. Lee and Katie, who bought reversible leopard-print leather coats from an upmarket couturiers this morning, are in the aisle demonstrating the pelvic thrusts used by the young Russians who had modelled for them on a private catwalk. As dehydration kicks in, my head starts lolling to one side and drooling onto the floor. Beyond the thrusting pelvises I see minarets looming in the distance. If it all seemed like an hallucination, one thing was sure: the Kindred Spirits were in a far better place than I.

Way to go

· Kindred Spirits run a programme of exclusive trips ranging from two-night to ten-night stays. Prices for the four-night trip to the Ciragan Palace Hotel Kempinski, Istanbul, running from December 6-10 2003 start at £1,196 per person and include return flights and transfers, double room for sole occupancy accommodation, a Kindred Spirits host, welcome cocktail party and dinner, daily breakfast and a sightseeing tour of the city. For further information, a copy of the Kindred Spirits brochure or reservations, call 020 7431 3727 or 0208 731 1388, email enquire@kindredspiritstravel.com or visit kindredspiritstravel.com.