Mental Health

I woke up yesterday morning with an adventure in mind that did not include attending class. Until now, I have had perfect attendance, even going so far as to attend every monotonous hour of language lab (where we wear headphones and repeat sentence after sentence... for an hour...). So I slept in until 8, waved good bye to my roommates as they headed to class and made it to the Grand Bazaar, also known as the Kapalı Çarşa, by 11am.

The Kapalı Çarşa has somewhere around 4000 stalls. Its seemingly endless rows are covered by a series of domes. The bazaar has "streets" supposedly themed by product -- leather, ceramics, gold -- but mostly you have to explore to find what and you want at the price you want. And by explore I mean become lost in the maze of small shops, all of which start to look the same after an hour or two. This is mostly because many of the shops carry the exact same things: the same shawls, the same tea sets, the same strange Turkish slippers.

Prices at the Grand Bazaar are flexible -- never accept the first price. In fact, haggling usually begins at 50% of the first price offered. I think this system, combined with the sometimes rather intense shopkeepers, makes many Americans uncomfortable. Most store owners stand outside their stores and attempt to lure shoppers in. Their typical lines range from "Buyrun!" (essentially "Look! Check it out!") to "Lady, beautiful lady, I have something you will like" to the more direct "I want to spend your money".

Women, I think, need to be in a very zen place to shop at the bazaar. I am not sure how many times I heard "Hello, I am looking for a girlfriend" or something about my "beautiful eyes". And of course, everyone wants to know where you are from. I am never from America. Usually I am Canadian or Irish. Once you start to speak Turkish, the questions typically increase and the prices go down. More than once, I have had my hand shaken after I reveal I am studying at Bosporus University, which I recently learned is the Turkish equivalent of Harvard. After they shake my hand, they ask who is paying my tuition (this question that is a lot less rude here than it is at home. In fact, talking about money isn't taboo at all and people often ask one another about their salary and rent.).

Yesterday was my third trip to the bazaar and by far the most productive. The first two times I visited I was too overwhelmed to buy much of anything, instead just scoping things out, making a mental list of potential gifts. I came, I saw and, yesterday, conquered. Of course, when I returned to campus I realized that I am still missing a few "crucial" items.

I suppose the Bazaar and I will meet again.