I am in Istanbul, after eighteen wonderful days in Egypt. What an experience. I have thousands of photos and hundreds of stories about that, especially the magnificent tombs.
Just three short days in Istanbul have resulted in lots more photos and stories. That is the Topkapi dagger up above. For now though, I’ll leave off the sights, historical and architectural monuments, art, jewels and treasures, and move to a lighter topic – shopping!
Istanbul stretches across the Bosphorus, straddling Asia and Europe. It has been occupied by the Greeks, Romans, Turks and even the Venetians for a while. It was the last stop on the Silk Road before Europe (also the spice route – there was such a thing, but I don’t think it had a formal name). It is still an immensely important commercial hub. I suspect if something can’t be found in Istanbul, it doesn’t exist.
As I said in my earlier post, I had come on this trip with a strict promise to myself not to buy anything. That didn’t last long – How To Achieve Immortality. I’m not a big clothes, shoes, handbag or jewelry person.
Okay, I love looking at jewellery, especially emeralds. But I’m seldom tempted to buy it.
I love textiles (especially carpets, cushions and scarves) and ceramics. Handcrafts of all kinds.
Beautiful objects are in every shop window.
I actually went back today and bought the little earth goddess figurine (I’d seen the 8,000 year old original in the Archaeology Museum on Sunday). I confess I also bought some beautiful ceramic coasters, a painted plate, another figurine and some odds and ends. Everything in the store was stunning.
My marathon tour yesterday to Hagia Sofia, Topkapi Palace, the Blue Mosque (outside only as it is closed for renovations), the hippodrome, German Fountain and just about everywhere else there is to see in Istanbul, included a visit to the Grand Bazaar.
That amazing place has 61 streets and over 4000 stores. Bigger, I think than the Khan el-Khalili in Egypt, which I also visited.
Certainly more modernized, organized and upscale.
The spice and candy stores alone are like being in A Thousand and One Nights.
And not just in the Grand Bazaar. Every shop window is a work of art, everything so beautifully displayed.
Look at what they have made of the humble banana marshmallow-y type thing we used to eat as kids.
The pastry shops rival those in Paris.
I saw the proverbial kid at the candy shop window.
Many windows combined nuts and sweets.
Even the omnipresent Turkish Delight could be made to look fit for a sultan.
I love shopping here. As in Egypt, it’s a process, with its rituals and courtesies. And bargaining of course.
After lunch yesterday (which was delicious), our guide took us into a ceramics shop.
The handsome, bearded gentleman who met us, gave us a quick lesson in how his ceramics are made, after providing us with tea. I had pomegranate and it was delectable.
For a large object like the plates he is gesturing to, the process can take 10 weeks. Each piece is individually crafted. He demonstrated the purpose of the odd shaped hollow piece, which was for wine.
The wine gets poured in, then the server’s arm is thrust through that hollow, so the jug is resting on the server’s shoulder. He pours by bending the jug forward. Ingenious.
We were left to wander around the shop.
The gentleman saw me admiring this piece.
Next thing I knew, he was telling me that though it was priced at $350 USD, he’d let me have it for $250. I said that though I loved it, I lived in Ecuador and didn’t need any more stuff. No problem – they ship worldwide.
I demurred, he persisted and eventually I broke down and bought it for $200 US including shipping. I did resist buying a second piece, despite his urging and despite how gorgeous many of them were.
We had lots of laughs as this progressed, with me teasing him and him teasing me.
He gave me a big hug and a kiss on both cheeks when I left.
Later, we went to the Grand Bazaar. If you showed interest in anything (or even if you didn’t), you’d be politely invited into the shop for a cup of tea or coffee. In the spice and candy shop, I again chose pomegranate tea for my beverage. It comes in a small glass affair shaped like an hourglass only open at the top.
We were given portions of Turkish delight to try. But the pomegranate tea, which I’d now had twice, was so delicious, I decided to buy some. Even this small transaction involved bargaining. However, my experience in the ceramics shop stood me in good stead. I now understood what was expected of me.
Me: “That tea is delicious, do you sell it?”
Shopkeeper bowing and leading me to a case with every kind of tea I could imagine and some I never did.
Me: “Oh, how lovely. [It was a pink powder.] How much for 100 grams?”
The shopkeeper offered a price for a kilo.
Me, sipping my tea: “I only want a 100 grams.”
Shopkeeper: Oh, but Madame, it is much cheaper for five hundred grams.”
Me: “That’s nice, but I live alone and can only use 100 grams.”
Shopkeeper, throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes: “Madame, that is very sad. But I’m sure you have friends. How about x lira for 200 grams?”
Me, still sipping my tea, turning away, “Oh dear, I’m afraid that’s too expensive. I’m a poor widow and I have to watch my spending.”
Shopkeeper, grabbing my elbow, “But wait Madame, for you, because you remind me of my mother, x-100 lira for 200 grams.”
Me, hesitating.
Shopkeeper: “I will throw in a little present.”
Me, smiling, “Thank you, that’s so kind.”
I left with 300 grams for the price he quoted me for 200.
This shopkeeper too, grabbed me and kissed me on both cheeks. I could get used to that.
As we passed another shop, I admired some carpets.
The shopkeeper invited me in. I said that, sadly, I had too many carpets already for the small house I live in, besides the fact that I am thinking of moving.
The guide said we should go and look for five minutes. Somehow our little group of three was swept into the shop, while I kept protesting that I was not buying.
Shopkeeper: “Madame, no one who enters this shop ever comes in to buy anything.”
We all laughed. Mine was rather hollow, because the carpets really were gorgeous and I really wanted to buy one.
We were seated in plush red velvet chairs on one side of the empty showroom floor. There were carpets folded up from floor almost to ceiling, everywhere.
We were given apple tea to sip, and the show commenced.
I was asked whether I preferred kilim carpets or the more traditional “Persian” styue which has pile. I said “I like kilim, but since I’m not buying, it doesn’t matter.”
Waving aside this disclaimer, the shopkeeper summoned two minions and first one, then two, then more and more carpets were unfurled, held up, and laid down.
The slightest expression of admiration of a colour or style led to some being picked up and put away and others being unfurled.
Then the selling began.
$450 USD (which was $50 less than I paid for my admittedly larger kilim in Ecuador).
Me: “That’s a great price, but I’m not buying.”
More carpets come out.
Shopkeeper: “For you, because you are so polite and I can see you appreciate my wares, $350.”
Me: “That’s wonderful, but I’m not buying. How would I even get it home – I live in Ecuador you know.” (This said in hopes of discouraging him.)
Shopkeeper: “But this is not a problem Madame. We ship all over the world. Besides, you can carry it. It is light.”
We all laugh.
Shopkeeper: “No, no, I assure you, it folds up to nothing (waving to one of the minions, in the manner of a magician about to summon a djinn), and it weighs only 2.5 kilos, folded. If you wanted a larger one, or a heavier one with pile, that would be a different matter. But we could still ship it.”
While this sales pitch was going forward, the minion was busily folding up the carpet with the speed, ease and efficiency of one who has performed this task a million times. I have to admit, the shopkeeper had not exaggerated. When the minion was finished, the parcel was indeed no more than about a foot by a foot and five inches deep.
If I didn’t already have more carpets than space to put them, I would likely have succumbed. But reason held firm for once, and I persisted in saying no. I turned to my fellow tour group people, a young German couple, and shamelessly suggested that they should consider a carpet.
They were young, adorable,just starting out, and no doubt were in need of a carpet.
The shopkeeper leapt on them like a kindly grandfather bestowing a gift. The young woman just kept giggling and laughing, the young man pointed out the carpet she had said she liked and the same process of price reduction went on. Finally he whispered something in her ear, but her partner said “No, she doesn’t want a carpet.”
It was said with Teutonic flatness and finality and the shopkeeper visibly deflated.
Rallying, he came back to me and whispered a price in my ear – $200. Man, was I tempted.
But eventually our tea was drunk, the shopkeeper philosophically accepted that there would be no sales this time, and off we went to other places.
That time, I did not get a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. Gee, I can’t imagine why.
My tour guide, however, told me that he really enjoyed watching me bargain!
And the food! I loved Egypt, but you would never go there for the food. Mind you, I didn’t dine in fancy restaurants, but everywhere I went, aside from my posh hotel in Aswan, the choices were chicken or beef with rice and vegetables.
I had lunch today in a sort of local food court not far from my hotel, where mine was the only gringo face.
It was a lively spot with a couple of men playing backgammon, and another older man shining shoes.
The alley ended at a cake shop.
But I went back to an actual restaurant.
It was big on kebabs. This one is huge chunks of eggplant, with meat.
I only got started taking photos of the menu when it was taken away, but it had lots of interesting things.
The lentil soup was some of the best I’ve ever had.
The bread was fresh, the dill pickle was perfectly spicy and crisp and the relish, whatever it was, was tasty too.
There was even hot pepper to sprinkle on the soup.
I thought I would have some bread and cheese with my soup. It turned out to be huge. Really good though. Fresh and hot.
The whole meal, with a soft drink, cost $14 Canadian.
My hotel in Istanbul has a rooftop bar and restaurant. First decent drink I’ve had in three weeks. Well, second – I had a Sex on the Beach at the airport Novotel my last night in Cairo.
My order that night was taken by a disapproving muslim woman who said, in a voice and demeanour that would have done my mother proud: “Alcohol?!”
Why work in a bar if you have religious objections to alcohol? I think she rolled her eyes too.
The young man who serves me here in Istanbul in the rooftop bar and restaurant was not disapproving at all and entered into a discussion of the merits of the various cocktails on the menu.
This is a Kermit. Something called sorrel green plum lemongrass and special citrus blend Smirnoff. Tonight, my last night here, I think I will try their baklava. It is everywhere here.
And the little piece I had on the cruise was delicious.
My tour yesteday ended with a cruise around the Bosphorus to the entrance to the Sea of Marmora at one end, and the Black Sea on the other. I will end here with some photos of the magnificent sunset over the Istanbul skyline.
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