The Grand Bazaar – Istanbul 2015

The Grand Bazaar in Istanbul is purportedly the largest tourist attraction in all the world. Maybe. We were there in the winter – snow on the ground – and it was still packed. After an accidental trip to the Egyptian Bazaar (cabby issues are the bane of every traveler’s visit to the city), we decided on the full Grand Bazaar experience: walking all the lanes, seeing the sites, listening to all the languages and the sellers hawking their wares. My wife, who is an expert haggler, attempted to buy all the scarves in Turkey. We bought a few little souvenirs for people we love (my mother’s and my father-in-law’s birthdays were coming up). I ate a significant amount of pistachio Baklava and honeycomb. We also had lunch and coffee at a kebab place hidden in the bowels of the market that was serving the market sellers when we arrived – a sure sign of authentic yumminess.

Stamps-With-Foot had a “No Pestering” policy and when one of the sellers started harassing her to buy or to come in his shop, she would move on. It seemed to work and she was left alone to browse and shop and got a couple of bargains. I was the designated pack mule and carried all the bags. I also assisted in the negotiations for some of the goods – playing the tired husband who’s wife is on a spending spree – they had no idea that the bags were filled with $1-10 dollar items. It worked great and she got a gift for her dad at 1/3 the original asking price as well as a couple silk scarves for a ridiculously low price. The scarf seller looked at me with knowing eyes and brought me apple tea while she tore through his stacks looking for “the right one… or five…”

Words fail me in describing all that we saw and did, but the images below should give you an idea.

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Turkish Honey

The Turkish know how to present a breakfast spread! My hotels on two recent trips to both Ankara and in Istanbul had a fresh honeycomb (Petek Balout in Turkish) for breakfast every morning. Slabs of raw, dripping, delicious goodness. Honeycomb was also available in the street markets and in a couple of places where I had dinner. I got to enjoy some pistachio baklava and honeycomb with my morning meal AND while walking down the street. Awesome!

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Turkish Carpet Sellers

Carpet Sellers: I have purchased rugs and carpets from multi-generational vendors from Istanbul to Marrakesh, Casablanca to Chendu, Ankara to Toulouse. These men, always men, have spoken every conceivable language – especially the numbers – and have seen every bargaining trick known to man.

My wife is an expert haggler and has no qualms about walking away from a market seller and going to the next stall in full view of the first seller. She was in Marrakesh when I bought my first Moroccan Hanbel, but she didn’t do the actual bargaining – she drank the sweet mint tea and watched. It think this left a hole in the part of her soul that needs to haggle (the Burton side of her genetic pool) and she has been twitching to buy a carpet ever sense. I think that she wanted to bargain with the best of the best – to test her mettle and skill. Our recent trip to Istanbul provided her with that opportunity.

Our first carpet stop was at a 5-story establishment late one evening just before dinner near the Blue Mosque. We were handed off to a tall, greasy, smooth-talking seller that had spent lots of time in the US and was the picture of shady used car salesman. Seriously. We let him talk and lie and talk and lie. After about 2 hours and in the middle of what was probably his dinner time, we started negotiating prices. I really wanted a unique 5X7 kilim and Laurel was eye-balling a wool runner. The seller wanted BMW prices for the equivalent a small Honda with a tiny engine. Laurel gave him a final price for both and he unceremoniously ushered us out of the door. I really liked that Kilim and it became another “One that got away.” A shame that it did not go home with us… It will forever be like the hanbel (kilim is the Turkish word) in Essaouira, Morocco that I left folded on the floor there that still calls to me. Every so often my wife will say, “Remember that rug…” and we both get a little sad.

Our second stop was the next night and due to my schedule, we showed up 15 minutes before their scheduled closing time. No worries, three people stayed and tea and carpets and rugs appeared from all corners of the shop. My sweet wife busied herself inspecting a $3000 silk carpet that stayed in the store where it found her. Our seller was another guy that had spent some serious time in the US and although would also have been at home at any New Jersey used car lot, was more polished and a touch more upfront than our dealer the night before.

Laurel went to work on him. We were good-cop bad-cop right away. I was the bored, broke husband upset at my wife’s spending habits and she was the doe-eyed, sweet little girl who couldn’t make up her mind. She is awesome at that. We work the shit out of it and she was so good that she completely had me convinced that she wanted an entirely different rug – crafty that one is.

In the end she got an amazing small wool rug with insane knotting and detail for our bedroom and I got a small wool on wool rug for the living room. Now, we did not get the deal of the century, but we didn’t have to sell blood to finance our taxi ride back to the hotel either. We got a decent price, but make no mistake – the seller made good money.

My hope was that this one experience might satisfy her need to buy Turkish/Persian/Moroccan carpets… Nope. She talked about “the next one” on the taxi ride home. I have helped created a monster.

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A trip to Istanbul with my wife

I spend 1/3 to 1/2 of my work life on the road and away from my wife and hearth: Crappy food, shitty airports, empty hotel rooms, taxis, trains, assigned to the middle seat in the plane, another awful airport, missed connections, terrible coffee, jet-lag, missing luggage, etc, etc, etc… It was all very exciting when I started this 15 or so years ago, but it has gotten very, very old. Most of the time when I travel I get to see the inside of meeting rooms, lounges, and hotels, but every so often I get out to see some local attraction and one of my first reactions is ‘I wish Stamps-With-Foot was here to see this…’ Traveling alone when you love your wife sucks. There is a bright spot every so often though – when my schedule and our finances work out so Stamps-With-Foot can come along.

A couple of weeks ago the stars aligned and we bought a super cheap (somewhat uncomfy) flight to Istanbul for her to spend a couple of days there while I was working. It was fantastic. We got to tour some sites together after work, do a little shopping, make some memories, and neither of us was all by ourselves waiting on the other.

Istanbul was on both of our bucket-lists and we only had a few hours each day to cram stuff in and although it was cold the whole time and pouring rain one day, we made it all work out:

A tour of the Blue Masque
Raw honeycomb every morning with breakfast
Tour of the Hagia Sophia
Late night Carpet shopping
Criss-crossing the Bosphorus – back and forth between Europe and Asia
An accidental trip to the Egyptian Bazaar
The full Grand Bazaar experience – sites, sounds, and lots of haggling
My wife attempted to buy all the scarves in Turkey
Little souvenirs bought for people we love
I ate a TON of pistachio Baklava
Great food was eaten
Serious snuggling in a king-sized bed sans puppies

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