HARD bargaining at Istanbul's Grand Bazaar

A notorious non-shopper on holidays, Istanbul's Grand Bazaar held no attraction for myself. I took a quick stroll inside yesterday, entering at Gate 1 (pictured), walked long the main passageway for ten minutes or so, reached Gate 7 at the other end and then exited into bright sunlight. Smiling smugly, I mentally ticked off one of Istanbul's major tourist attractions from the must-see list. Been there, done that.

However, this afternoon's clouds that darkened the sky and threatened rain at any moment forced me to duck inside the world's oldest and largest covered bazaar for a second time. 

The stats are certainly impressive - built in the fifteen century, the Grand Bazaar has 21 gates, 66 streets, nearly 4,000 shops and almost 30,000 employees inside - and hosts millions of tourists looking for bargains on silver jewelry, fake Abercrombie and Polo apparel, and all other sorts of merchandise I had no interest in buying.

Strolling around the bazaar, I eventually grew weary of seeing the same goods displayed at multiple stalls, but did a double take upon seeing several figurines (look right) nestled on top of "Turkish Viagra" bottles, which left no doubt as to the potency of the product.  

Curious, I asked the young lad manning the stall what Turkish Viagra was made of. He vaguely replied, "A combination of herbs and spices", then proceeded to offer me a small bottle for 15 lira ($8.50). I declined, thinking to myself, "Sounds like snail oil", yet  amused by the verbiage on the bottle's label claiming that "you will be able to make love five times in one night".

"Well, how do you know that it really works?", I inquired. Even the lad, who couldn't be more than fifteen years old, chuckled at that one and shrugged his shoulders. 

"I don't want to buy it. I just want a photo", I explained, obviously not the first person to do so.

"Sorry, mister, no photos", he replied, pointing to the sign above the smiling figures lined up side by side, as if waiting to launch their missiles.

Spotting assorted bars of olive oil soap stacked among his merchandise, with a sign indicating "4 bars - 10 lira" ($5.60), I tried a different bargaining tack.

"Well, if I buy four bars of soap, will you let me take a photo?". Surely he would be eager to make a sale and grant a small favor to this polite tourist.

He pondered the offer, and countered, "Okay. Three bars and a photo for ten lira". 

It was my turn to consider. "Nah, this is stupid", I said to myself, "I'm not into strongly scented hand made soap anyway", and started to move away after waving him goodbye.

"Wait, wait", he called out, after I had taken a grand total of two steps. "Okay, four bars of soap and a photo for ten lira. Only for you, my friend". I smiled widely in response. I repeated his phrase in agreement, handed over the correct note, picked four colorful bars at random, and carefully sized up various angles before taking a lone photo.

Both sides had emerged victorious in the bargaining process. He had his money, while I had my photo, a memorable anecdote, and would surely be the freshest smelling tourist in Turkey (and Europe) for the next month. Shopping while on holiday wasn't quite so bad after all.

Chance Encounters of the Random Kind

One of the great pleasures of traveling is meeting new people under unique circumstances. Since I've just crossed the three month milestone on this European mega-trip, it's time to reflect on the new friends I've made along the way, and our mostly fun shared experiences.

I recall a few occasions when I've met a person and subsequently bumped into them somewhere else, and laughed at the coincidence. What's more, all these instances involve friends I've made through the English language volunteer sessions in Spain and Germany (documented here, here and here) that I've participated in.

So, without further ado, some unexpected chance encounters that turned out to be quite fun.

No. 1.  Sitting in the common room of the Posada de las Huertas hostel in Madrid, intently doing trip research on my laptop, I turned to the young woman sitting at the adjacent couch and made a remark about the erratic Wi-fi signal. She agreed, and we chatted briefly about our travels, past and future, around Spain.

The following day, I was hobnobbing with fellow volunteers at the tapas reception for the English language program, enjoying my fourth glass of sangria when I noticed an attractive latecomer entering through the door and joining our group. A familiar face, but from where...could it be?! All doubt was removed when she glanced in my direction and  a similarly shocked expression registered on her face. Yes, the girl last night at the hostel.

Introductions dispensed with, Rebecca and I discovered we were part of the same group volunteering for a week in Valdelavilla, and became fast friends henceforth.

No. 2. Although we were staying at the same dormitory at the hostel in Sevilla, I only formally met Chelsea when we were seated next to each other at the flamenco show. Afterwards, the two of us went for a few drinks, and I suppose I extolled the virtues of Vaughan Town's language program a bit enthusiastically, so much so that she immediately filled out an application form online once we got back to the hostel.

The following day, I left Sevilla without having the opportunity to get her email address, and from time to time idly wondered if Chelsea was accepted as a volunteer, and if so, for which week and location.

Two weeks and three cities later, after a full day of sightseeing in Oporto, I was at the Rivoli Hostel's lounge uploading photos, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to block out the noise from a group of seven women talking and laughing loudly. After a few minutes, I  realized that an Aussie-accented voice, the loudest among all, sounded a bit familiar, and took a closer look at the long-haired blonde that was the source of it, whose back was turned to me. Yes, it was indeed Chelsea, by coincidence staying at the Rivoli hostel as well.

Moreover, it turns out that despite her preference for a different venue and date, Vaughan assigned her to the same program that I was participating in (my second) due to a last minute cancellation by another volunteer, thus the fun times continued for an entire week.

No. 3. I noticed the Orthodox church in the main square of Brasov (Romania) due to its lovely architecture, and well, also because it was beside the unmissable KFC outlet. I decided to wander in for a look and compare the interiors with another Orthodox church I had seen in Timisoara a week prior.

After a couple minutes inside (worshipers are treated to the heavenly aroma of the Colonel's crispy chicken), I went out and was greeted by the sight of a familiar figure twenty feet away. It took a couple of seconds to recover from the shock, then I chuckled and  said to myself, "Surely this is too good to be true...", before finally calling out, "Hey, HOLLY!!!".

Yes, for it was none other than Holly and her husband Terry, who were traipsing around Romania, and by sheer luck our paths crossed. Holly was a fellow volunteer at the inaugural English language program held in Germany's Black Forest area only a couple of weeks ago, and was quite prodigious in figuring out some of the nearby hiking trails and sharing with the rest of our group. After catching up a bit, we reconvened later in the evening to join the free walking tour around Brasov (being avid walkers, they had already covered most of the ground by themselves, but it was all new to lazy me), followed by a 3 hour Mexican dinner paired with the local wine.