[caption id="attachment_852" align="alignleft" width="225" caption="Shop selling pottery in the Grand Bazaar "]<img class="size-medium wp-image-852" title="Pottery Grand Bazaar " src="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/dsc07029.jpg?w=225" alt="Shop selling pottery in the Grand Bazaar " width="225" height="300" />[/caption]

The Grand Bazaar is a wash of color, sounds, smells and all in all is completely overwhelming.  I like to shop and still I would caution you: there's too much stuff here.  You'll never be able to see it all and if you like something you'd be smart to buy it.  Coming back later really isn't an option.  This said, if you like something like scarf, pottery or jewelry very likely most of the shops will have something like it.  So if you pass on something early on as you're trying to get your bearings in the maze of shops don't worry.

R. and I went to, well, buy things.  I knew that I wanted a scarf or two and that I was interested in the pottery but beyond that I went to see what there was.  And I was not disappointed. R. went with a more defined shopping list but that didn't stop her from buying other things as well.

As soon as you walk into the Bazaar the fun starts.  Most of the men working in the bazaar stand out in front of the individual stalls so that they can talk to you.  Mostly they say hello in English (I also got a lot of German).  If you don't answer or show some recognition of the greeting, they'll try another language or two for good measure.

I liked the jostling, the heckling and the jockularity of the whole affair.  The sales men will say things like "Hello Beautiful" or "You're pretty, you'd look even prettier in one of these pashminas" and on and on.  They'll also ask you where you're from.

In our case, Barak Obama had just visited Turkey and so when we said we were Americans most people started talking happily at us (and sometimes with us).  It lead us to wonder if maybe people in Europe don't hate Americans as much as they used to.  Either that or they were happy to take our money in spite of the fact that we're Americans.

So if it's not already clear, everything about the Grand Bazaar is over the top--nothing has prices so you have to inquire, no prices are really fixed so then you have to haggle and every guy claims that he has a better price, piece or quality item than the next.  It's incredible really.  More over, each guy is trying to get your attention, to get you into his shop, to get you to spend your money.  He's trying to get you to stop walking long enough for something to catch your eye.<!--more-->

[caption id="attachment_849" align="alignright" width="225" caption="Entrance to the Grand Bazaar.  Note how people are staring at me even when I am taking a photo. "]<img class="size-medium wp-image-849" title="Grand Bazaar " src="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/dsc06762.jpg?w=225" alt="Entrance to the Grand Bazaar.  Note how people are staring at me even when I am taking a photo. " width="225" height="300" />[/caption]

In our case, R. was all business. She didn't want to be distracted by anyone or anything thing.  I was busy trying to look at everything and in the mean time getting a kick out of how the whole market functions.  So we walk by a stall that's selling--well, I don't even know--and a 20-something Turkish man looks at me and asks R. "Is she is from Paradise?" in a thickly accented English.

What!? Did he just say that? I couldn't stop laughing but the kind of laughing that you try to keep under wraps so that it kind of comes out of your nose.  I have no idea what R. says to him because she's now laughing to hard to make a sentence and we're holding on to each other for support.  So we turn the corner--I have tears in my eyes and we are both splurting-giggling.  Now most of the men are looking at the two crazy tourists who can't hold it together.

Then because the bazaar is such a maze and we can't tell our way around we have to walk past Mr. Paradise one more time.  He comes up to R. and says to her, "No really, is she from Paradise?" R. brushes him off and we continue with our shopping but after that great line the rest aren't very interesting.

Only later do I think of the appropriate response to the question: Is she from Paradise?

Yes, if Paradise is Sofia, Bulgaria.

The other thing about the Grand Bazaar is that if you are shopping and you seem serious about buying (or the shop owner hopes that you will buy) often he will offer you green apple tea.  If you agree, he will flag down a man in the bazaar who will then bring the tea in Turkish tea cups with a sugar cube on the side.  The tea is sweet and hot.  R. and I were offered tea twice--once in a jewelry store where we were buying earrings and later in a linen shop. The funny thing about the tea is that as soon as you have it you are then offered a place to sit as well.  Often because the shops are small this means that you feel like you are sitting nearly on the ground and that you are sitting in worst possible place in the shop.  Both of these things are probably true but no one says anything so you get to drink your tea and watch your friend shop.

[caption id="attachment_851" align="alignleft" width="500" caption="The blue and purple bedspread is the one I bought"]<img class="size-full wp-image-851" title="bedspread" src="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/bedspread.jpg" alt="The blue and purple bedspread is the one I bought" width="500" height="375" />[/caption]

In the linen shop I was hemming and hawing about buying a bedspread.  I'd seen a beautiful silk wall hanging in the shop and went into look at this thinking it was more reasonable to buy a wall hanging/table runner than a bedspread considering the fact that I've only got two suitcases to bring all of my treasures home in at the end of my Fulbright year.  Once in the shop though, I was looking at full size bedspreads in a range of different colors and watched as they were spread out on the floor for me to examine.

Finally I ask the question: how much? The bedspread is quoted to me at 380 lira and the wall hanging at 70 lira.  <em>Too much.</em> But I love them.  He asks if we want tea.  Okay. He leaves to call for tea and R. and I talk.  I ask her: am I crazy? She assures me the bedspread is beautiful.

Bedspread-Guy comes back and I tell him it's too much.  That I can't buy a bedspread right now because I'll never be able to get it home.  He asks me how much I want to spend.  I suggest maybe 250 lira.  We talk some more.  I know that I am not going to get a great deal--I am a tourist after all but this bedspread does seem like a good memento of my trip to Istanbul.  This is when Bedspread-Guy suggests 300 lira for the bedspread and the wall hanging.  I am sold (in hindsight maybe I should have seen if he'd throw in some pillow cases but that's that).

I don't have enough cash to pay so Bedspread-Guy offers to walk me to the ATM.

While we're gone, Green-Apple-Tea-Man arrives and R. is waiting in the shop for him.  He chats with her for a minute and asks how much I am paying for the bedspread.  R. says 300 lira.  Green-Apple-Tea-Man says to R. "Oh, Bedspread-Guy could do better than that."  R. tells me that clarifies herself and tells the man "Actually, it's 300 lira for the bedspread and the wall hanging." Green-Apple-Tea-Man nods his head in approval and apparently says "That's good." (R. of course doesn't tell me the story until later but it confirms the fact that I didn't spend too much money and there's something funny and charming about Green-Apple-Tea-Man looking out for us, the tourists, and undercutting Bedspread-Guy at the same time.)

Back in the store, I drink my apple tea and my bedspread and wall hanging are folded up for me.  I try to pay and it turns out that Bedspread-Guy is also Carpet-Guy and he invites R. and I to come next door and look at some carpets.  I tell him I don't think that we will be buying a carpet today but he insists.  Also, it seemed like too much fun not see a few carpets and hear the sales pitch.

So, we go next door and up two flights of stairs and this guy starts showing us beautiful carpets.  The first one is make from silk thread in pastel colors but with a traditional design and it's about all that I can do not to get down on my hands and knees and rub my face on it.  It's shinny and plush and later I learn $2500.  Oh and the carpet is maybe 2.5 feet by 3 feet--in other words, not big.  Next.

He shows us an older larger wool carpet.  I ask him how old and learn that it's between 80 and 90 years old.  The colors are much richer and background is navy blue.  In many ways it was kind of what you would imagine for a carpet from Turkey.  He tells me that they have carpets that are even older 300-400 years old.  It's pretty clear to me that I can't afford a carpet this old but still he's willing to get one to show it to me if I want.  I decline--leading him on like that just seems cruel to me.

Then come a variety of wool-silk blend carpets.  Size wise these carpets were probably in 3x4 feet range.  They were also beautiful and much less expensive than the silk carpet.  I think the prices he was quoting me were between $500 and $700 (and yes he was quoting prices to me in dollars).  It's about this point that R. is getting antsy and wants to leave (she apparently feels bad about leading him on when we're not going to be buying carpets); I realize that I don't have a job in the states or a home/apartment to live in (meaning no floor to put a carpet on); and another carpet assistant shows up to help show us carpets.

This is when we start trying to make the most graceful exit possible.  I say trying because the sales guy is pretty instant that I can easily get a small carpet home in my suitcase.  In fact, I am sure that I could but it would mean that I'd have to devote a single suitcase to it and at this point, that's not something I am willing to do.  Then he starts telling me what a good price he could make for me on a carpet.  Again, I am sure that's true.  I am just no willing to impulse buy a $500 carpet.  Finally, after lots of thank-yous, I pay for the bedspread and wall hanging and R. and I leave the shop and the Grand Bazaar a little poorer but with lots of great stuff.

Oh and a bedspread feels like a really good deal and all of a sudden seems a lot easier to get back to the States after you've been carpet shopping!