bazaar indeed

I'm hestitant to start this monstrosity of anentry on a keyboard with a finicky space bar, but if we areall patient it should work out alright.

Yesterday was a tremendously pleasant affair,all about shopping. To the Grand Bazaar we went armed with the name Altuu and a phone number. Altuu being Zoe's friend Şirin's pal from way back. We gave the number a call, but got no responseand so ventured into the crowded channels of commerce on our own, intent on not being fleeced and just looking around until we had a local guide on hand to save us from teh Oriental shopkeeps, full of cunning, guile and nefarious tricks to part us from our pieces of siler and gold.

In reality there was a sense of dread and nervousness within our jolly crew. We'd ventured through souqs and bazaars (even this one) before, but this time we all had gifts to buy and a desire to keep spending in check and such realities do not jive well with the narratives that surround an eastern bazaar we all carried in our respective heads.

Before we knew it though we were in a shop looking at belly dancing costumes (a favour for Kristin and her dancing grandma of course). "How much is this heavily sequined number? And this one with the tassles?" I don't think I intended to buy at that point, still holding out hope that Altuu would be on hand to guide us through the murky waters of the final transactions. Telling the shopkeep I needed to confirm how much my Canadian friend was willing to spend, we were given a card with a map (so we could find the place again) and were about to leave when I saw a costume that was the one for me.

Well, it would have been the one for me if I needed a belly dancing costume and since I know nothing of Kristin's grandma's taste in belly dancing paraphenalia, aside from the the necessity of bejeweled breasts, I figured my tastes would have to do the trick.

He started at 100 lira and quickly asked what I wanted to spend...the key to satisfied shopping in these conditions comes down to 2 main requirements in my mind.
1 - Kepp your smile on. It is a game you are playing after all. If you intend to buy, have a good time while doing it and I think the shopkeepers are more willing to make a smidgen less profit in return for the frivolity.
2 - When it comes to naming your own price, there is nothing wrong with being ridiculous. "How much do I want to spend? Well ideally you give it to me more free...maybe 10." And the game continues.
90? 25?, with lots of joshing around in between. I assured the vendor my very good Turkish friend told me to spend no more than 50 and that was for the top of the line stuff, surely this slightly lower cost one shouldn't be more than...30?

In the end I was at 35 and having a great time wehen Zoe countered his 55 with 40. With mock indignation I warned her against interfering but suddenly he was at 40 too and we were all drinking tea in celebration. We then chatted for a while about his work in the bazaar, former businesses, humanity. The normal stuff.

The love and people talk seemed to be a theme for the day. Apparently not many people were interested in my money, just as long as hearts were full of love and I was happy, well then they were happy as well. And I believe there was some truth in the talk. They wanted my money, yes, but if I was giving them proft, they were willing to forgo a little more money as long as I walked away with a smile. Or maybe I was ripped off royally. Who knows such things? But maintaining an attitude of finding a price you are happy with (whether it's really the best or not) seems to be a good rule of thumb to follow.

After that first experience we called Altuu again with renewed confidence and joy at the thought of shopping. This time we met up, bought a few knick knacks in his tiny shop before he began leading us hither and yon. We'd tell him what we needed to buy and he'd take us to an appropriate location, waiting with us sometimes or heading back to his shop if we'd be taking a while. Where possible we were taken toi the bazaar wholesalers in teh back corners off the main drag, hidden from most tourists and I assume Turks without contacts as well. It was just lovely being able to buy waterpipes and backgammon boards without a need to quibble over prices. One example, 40 lira for Eric's backgammon board that usually has a 180-200 starting price in the bazaar proper. Very nice.

We all wanted different things, but my carpet shopping was undeniably the big ONE stop. We were taken to a shop Altuu had a friend, unfortunately not in on the day. Interestingly, even he couldn't tell me rug prices, for some reason I had been thinking working in the bazaar grants one strange and mystical powers on accurate pricing, and he was actually unsure of where the store he was looking for was amidst the warren. After finding it though he told the salesman he wanted no commission and asked we be given a fair price; something the rug man told me repeatedly during the closing stages of the negotiation.

Once we were in there, out came the rugs. Wump, wump, wool, silk, cotton, weaves, looms, Uzbekistan, Turkey. ENough to make a head spin. I didn't start asking prices at the start, instead ffocusing on narrowing what lay before me to a manageable number. Going through, catching the maybes, tossing the nos and slowly working down, eventually asking the two words of destiny, "How much?"

ALl the carpets already had price tags affixed of course. Labels saying $1200 and EURO 800 making my eyes bleed just a little. These prices are there for when a guide brings a tour group through apparently and the guide's commission must be considered at such moments, or so I was told. My starting prices were given anywhere from 100-300 lira depending on size, weave, material, age etc. I chose slowly, and harvested , asking for opinions from Zoe and Eric, taking weight and bulk into account on top of everything else.

Once down to a few choices, my counter offers started coming in, seeing what combos would work best for me, but only working with 3-5 carpets at this point. Given the money involved and the fact Kristin wouldn't be reimbursing me on this purchase there was a titch more tension in the air. I offered...he responded...these 2? Maybe 3? Always looking for that perfect combo. And then I stared and stared and stared, tortured over the decision, if 2 which 2, or maybe all 3? Zoe and Eric sat in silence watching teh proceedings.

Apparently having a hard time with a decision can be a good thing. I was genuine and explained the gift situation and my personal (relative) poverty. I was torn and really thinking it over. But suddenly after much back and forth and extended silences he extended his hand...asking me to take it. "I don't know...what am I shaking on? I'm nervous..." A little truth in all my statements but still fully aware that the game was on. "200 for three" he said. SOLD!

Once again he told me of his desire to ensure my happiness, love in his heart, etc etc. Who knows how much was BS but the sale had been made and he could BS or lie or tell the truth about love or any other subject all he wanted.

In retrospect I think having the salesman tired may have helped my cause. Whether it was his daughter or some girlfriend keeping him up until 6 that morning I couldn't quite understand, but he told me he was tired. Perhaps also a little nicotine stressed. There is no smoking in the bazaar apparently, 50 lira fine if caught by the police. He snuck one in with my permission in the shop with the door closed. The AC kept the air plenty clean but the next time I may claim asthma then reqally have a hard time deciding as teh cravings kick in...just to see what happens.

After THAT monstrostity it was plates and scarves and this and that and round and round Zoe went...Eric and I being oh so patient.Before we knew it we'd been shopping for 6 hours and were trundling home exhausted, after thanking Altuu for his hard work and kindness of course.