Knowing it was my last day in this wondrous city, I got up early, had breakfast as usual on the seventh floor, and then went to Starbucks down the street for my cappuccino power drink. After a stop at the ATM, I made my way as if by magnetic force to the Grand Bazaar. Previously we'd gone as a group and were given all of one small hour for this place -- hardly adequate for the "grandmother of the shopping mall." With perhaps 4,000 stalls, sixteen entrances, and covering over 65 streets, this place required my full attention. The Grand Bazaar began in the 15th century and has always been the major marketplace of Istanbul, known all over the world.
This time I arrived at the west entrance and rather than finding a straight indoor lane, I found a series of winding passageways. First I noticed beautiful Rajasthani-style, beaded skirts, but soon crossed the way to the shop of a Turkman who was born in Afghanistan. He invited me into his shop for tea and together we looked at many pieces. He showed me photos of his store in Kabul, later the one in Peshawar, and now he's here in Istanbul. From what I could understand, he was a refugee at the time of the Russian invasion and lived in Pakistan for most of previous thirty years. He gave me a pendant, and I bought a Mongolian style hat. It's covered with metal ingots and has long tassels with beads. I'm not sure why I bought this, but I liked this man and sensed a great weariness in him. Probably it brought back memories of when I was in Kabul and Peshawar in the late 1970s. He gave me his business card; maybe one day I'll come see if he's still there.
This time I arrived at the west entrance and rather than finding a straight indoor lane, I found a series of winding passageways. First I noticed beautiful Rajasthani-style, beaded skirts, but soon crossed the way to the shop of a Turkman who was born in Afghanistan. He invited me into his shop for tea and together we looked at many pieces. He showed me photos of his store in Kabul, later the one in Peshawar, and now he's here in Istanbul. From what I could understand, he was a refugee at the time of the Russian invasion and lived in Pakistan for most of previous thirty years. He gave me a pendant, and I bought a Mongolian style hat. It's covered with metal ingots and has long tassels with beads. I'm not sure why I bought this, but I liked this man and sensed a great weariness in him. Probably it brought back memories of when I was in Kabul and Peshawar in the late 1970s. He gave me his business card; maybe one day I'll come see if he's still there.
There are literally millions of things to buy here, and the streets are packed with shoppers from all over the world. You can buy t-shirts, jeans, silks, purses, oriental carpets, and jewelry of every kind. It's really overwhelming. There are also small cafes where people are taking a break from it all. The actual "old bazaar" part has vaulted brick ceilings and survived a fire in the 1950s because of the large walls and doors of this part are closed and locked at night. Most of the ornamental painted ceilings have survived for ages.
Next I came upon a lovely jewelry shop. I like the owner's Elvis Presley-style haircut so I decided to stay awhile. Perhaps I tried on everything in the store. Ultimately I only bought one pair of Ottoman-style gold earrings. One thing has disappointed me here, and that's how high the prices are. Probably I'm just comparing it to the bargains one finds in South and Southeast Asia. Istanbul is a world market, with merchants who know the value of their goods. (sigh) There are loads of Arabs here that seem to be affluent: with their Chanel handbags, Burberry scarves, and iPhones, loaded down with packages. Do I sound envious?
Two handsome, young men had a stall the sold mirrors and knick knacks. I bought a small pocket mirror that had a beautiful Selcuk design on it. One of them attends UCLA in electrical engineering. It was fun talking to them. They were surprised that an American was familiar with Selcuk patterns. I went to get my silver ring repaired and found those sellers to be unpleasant to others, and I was glad to be done with that place. I had to run past some overly-aggressive carpet sellers.
Finally, I went into the shop of an art print seller. An old Persian painting of an elephant had caught my eye. Inside his shop, we talked about Turkish history and the strange truth that Americans know hardly anything about the Byzantine and Ottoman Empires' achievements. He wanted to meet me after his shop closed; though I declined, he gave me some very kind words that I hope to remember.
Next I came upon a lovely jewelry shop. I like the owner's Elvis Presley-style haircut so I decided to stay awhile. Perhaps I tried on everything in the store. Ultimately I only bought one pair of Ottoman-style gold earrings. One thing has disappointed me here, and that's how high the prices are. Probably I'm just comparing it to the bargains one finds in South and Southeast Asia. Istanbul is a world market, with merchants who know the value of their goods. (sigh) There are loads of Arabs here that seem to be affluent: with their Chanel handbags, Burberry scarves, and iPhones, loaded down with packages. Do I sound envious?
Two handsome, young men had a stall the sold mirrors and knick knacks. I bought a small pocket mirror that had a beautiful Selcuk design on it. One of them attends UCLA in electrical engineering. It was fun talking to them. They were surprised that an American was familiar with Selcuk patterns. I went to get my silver ring repaired and found those sellers to be unpleasant to others, and I was glad to be done with that place. I had to run past some overly-aggressive carpet sellers.
Finally, I went into the shop of an art print seller. An old Persian painting of an elephant had caught my eye. Inside his shop, we talked about Turkish history and the strange truth that Americans know hardly anything about the Byzantine and Ottoman Empires' achievements. He wanted to meet me after his shop closed; though I declined, he gave me some very kind words that I hope to remember.
With the afternoon drawing to a close, I hurried to visit the Istanbul Museum of Modern Art. There was not so much to see, but at least I made the effort with a good deal of walking. Then it was time to suitably end this last day, and I made my way to the Pera Palace Hotel, the destination for those who once traveled overland to Istanbul on the fabled Orient Express. Unfortunately, the tea costs $30, so I settled for cappuccino and almond cakes which I enjoyed immensely as I listened to the pianist playing something from the 1930s. I contemplated the Victorian decor and carefully set aside 40 Turkish lira for my cab ride to the airport in the morning.
I truly love this city and would come back in a heartbeat!
I truly love this city and would come back in a heartbeat!
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