Theme by nostrich.
Istanbul. May 2005. Trip Teaser.
Istanbul, Turkey. May 2005.
I joined my parents in this exotic and beguiling city for a whirlwind visit.
My husband, who doesn’t relish foreign travel, did not go with me. When my parents moved on to see the rest of Turkey with their academic tour group, I stayed behind in Istanbul for several days and tried to soak up a bit more of the city by myself.
May 23rd Journal Entry:
My parents were up at the crack of dawn to catch their flight to Diyarbakir. I woke up long enough to say goodbye and lock the hotel room door behind them.
By 7:30am, I was in the lobby eying every single tour bus that passed by. By 8:30am, I was convinced that the day tour I had booked was not coming to pick me up (after all, I had arranged everything on the internet). Then a serious looking man in a black suit arrived and asked for me at the reception desk. I followed him out to a waiting bus parked on the street in front of Hotel Divan.
Once we got rolling, a Jasmine Tours representative passed out stickers to let the guides know which destination each clueless tourist was headed for. We drove to a parking lot near the Hagia Sophia and waited to be divided up by tour.
The Princes Island group turned out to be quite small: two honeymooning couples (one from Morroco and one from Egypt), a surly Indian boy who was killing time because his business meeting in “textiles” had been delayed until evening, and me.
Our guide, a friendly man with close cropped gray hair, a colorful windbreaker and very crooked teeth, briefed us. He explained that the ferry would not leave until 10:30am and that since we had extra time, he would take us to the Spice Market Bazaar. I was thrilled by this news, because I didn’t think that I would get a chance to see any of Istanbul’s famous bazaars.
He gave us 30 minutes to look around, and I walked through the Spice Bazaar in about 5 min. It was actually quite small and overflowing with tourist junk for sale. I found the adjoining flower and produce market much more interesting.
It was full of locals haggling over live chickens, rabbits and strange eels swimming in large plastic jugs.
I sat on the steps in front of a magnificent mosque and watched pigeons washing themselves in a makeshift bird bath (blue plastic bowl) that some bird lover had gifted to them.
Presently, the couple from Egypt came along, arms laden with overpriced souvenirs purchased in the Spice Bazaar. A street vendor approached them and, after examining his merchandise, a heated discussion between husband and wife ensued. The wife apparently won out, because a price was agreed upon and the prize was handed over to her. They were too far away for me to see what it was, but I didn’t have to wait long for my curiosity to be satisfied.
As soon as the group met back up, the wife pulled a bottle of Chanel perfume out of her plastic bag and showed it to our guide.
“Is is real?” she asked. The guide laughed, revealing his yellow teeth.
“No! It is all alcohol,” he said.
“I told you so!” the husband exclaimed. The wife looked sheepish and blushed a little.
“You give it to someone you do not like very much,” the guide said with a grin. The wife whispered something to her husband, who laughed and translated for us.
“She says that she would like to give it to my mother.”
“HA! The mother in law!” our guide cried and we all had a good laugh.
The minibus pulled up at the docks and the guide slid open the doors, saying “Come, we go!”
