Istanbul: A Turkish Delight | Day Four

It was time to gear up…store the valuables in the safe, conduct extensive research, and take deep breaths. We were about to go to the legendary Grand Bazaar—one of the oldest and busiest covered markets in the world. 58 streets, 4,000 shops, and about 400,000 visitors daily...this was it. As we approached the entrance, we braced ourselves for manic shopping mania. 

In reality, we were greeted by a glorified mall with people asking you to come into their stores. Yes, they were insistent and persistent, but ultimately (and luckily) it wasn’t the free-for-all we anticipated. 

Moseying up and down the aisles, we peered into shops selling rugs, leather jackets, scarves, and knickknacks. It’s recommended to bargain down to 50% of the asking price. I attempted this tactic for a darbuka (hand drum), but got denied the sale. Later on I negotiated the combination of a darbuka and a hanging candle holder for 40 lira. Was that good deal? Probably not. But knowing that made it easier to swallow. Plus, a very charming store owner made it an easy sell, having his friend from across the way regale us with a percussion performance (he also tried to haggle for a Saturday night out in Istanbul and provided his phone number, but Hasan was out of luck on that front). Everything we ended up buying at the Grand Bazaar was about 25% off street prices…not entirely worth the hassle of haggling. However, it is a special claim to fame to say you haggled for that gorgeous pashmina you’ll be sporting upon your return home. 

What you need to expect at the Grand Bazaar is consistent and constant call-outs. “Where are you from”?” “Wilkommen!” “Which Spice Girl are you?” Some greetings are more authentic and welcoming than others that seemed forced and disinterested. Just have fun with the experience and don’t take it too seriously. Besides our friend Hasan, we eventually purchased several pashmina scarves from an unassuming gentleman who sipped tea as we riffled through his collection. He gave us a deal because we were allegedly the “first customers of the day,” which of course was not true…but the selection was bountiful and he seemed kind. In the end, if it's a reasonable price and you're pleased to give the person your business, that’s all you can really hope for.

After the old Grand Bazaar, we recovered with a freshly squeezed narsuyu (pomegranate juice) for 2.50 lira while sitting in a square just watching the world go by. Next on the agenda: the Spice Market, a busier and more exotic experience than the morning’s shopping adventure. Rows of spices in vibrant colors, people pushing past at every angle, teas in their raw form…it was the experience I was hoping for. Up above the chaos of the market was the quiet and oddly empty Bab-i Hayat restaurant, where we ate a doner with ayran (a plain yogurt drink). While the food was basic, the view more than made up for it as we peered out our window directly into the main hall of the Spice Market. Even the inside décor was fantastic with detailed tiles and a picture perfect ceiling.  

After a day of hectic shopping, we were determined to relax with some nargile—a word that even flares with exotic romance. Being that I am an official citation on the Wikipedia page for hookah thanks to an article I wrote back in 2006, it was only natural we partake in the national pastime of Turkey. We spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to find a place I read about that was supposedly tucked within an Ottoman cemetery. We were about to give up, but then asked a taxi driver to take us…he kindly instructed us that it was just up the street and not worth the fare. He was right! It did exist! Türk Ocağı Kültür Ve Sanat Merkezı Iktisadi Işletmesı Çay Bahçesi appeared as if by magic, perhaps in a puff of smoke we had simply missed before.

We made our way passed the eerily lit tombs and entered a hubbly-bubbly world of tea drinking hookah smokers, all chatting up a storm. The covered porch area blended easily into the cozy interior, where we grabbed a wooden bench and were approached by a waiter. We asked for “elma cay” and “elma nargile” to match (apple on both counts), and he ticked off an order sheet and ran off. Our water pipe soon arrived—delivered by another man—and that was followed by a boy placing glowing orange coals on top of the mechanism. Everyone had a unique job and it was fascinating just to watch the business run. 

Individual mouth pieces were provided so not to spread germs and after a few minutes of “steeping,” we took an apple-flavored puff. The hookah experience cost 12 lira and each apple tea was merely a lira. Though the name itself induced fits of giggles due to its absurd length, Türk Ocağı Kültür Ve Sanat Merkezı Iktisadi Işletmesı Çay Bahçesi soon grew on us…it was a true insight to the inner workings of Istanbul and a peek into the social culture of this vibrant city. 

Continue to Day Five...