Shopping: A Turkish delight

Unlike the last time around when there were no direct flights to Turkey, this time the journey was made in six and a half hours flat, courtesy Turkish Airlines. Bad seats, good service, decent food and a fare of movies to choose from; it was all said and done, a happy flight. And landed you straight in Istanbul where the entire world seemed to have collected, with tourists pouring out of every crack in the woodwork. But unlike India and many other countries where the shopkeepers fawn over the western travellers, in Turkey there was no such display of servility. Some bargaining, not too much, with a ‘take it if you like it” approach descending suddenly into the “get out, don’t waste our time” attitude for hard core window shoppers.
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We bargained hard for a leather coat, with the smiling shopkeeper clearly enjoying himself. “Come in, let’s make a deal,” and this was indeed a long procedure with the price being reduced just a few dollars at a time. Finally, he came down to below half the original price, packed the goods and we dashed for the bus, some distance away, in the pouring rain. Suddenly, one saw the shopkeeper rushing up, out of breath and clutching a 100 dollar bill in his hand. “You gave an extra 100 dollars,” he said and was immediately embraced by everyone for the amazing gesture. His response was a quiet and proud, “I am a Muslim.”
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The tourist guide was a dour but well-informed gentleman and managed the day’s tour like a strict school teacher. At the famous Topkapi Palace, the residence of the Ottoman Sultans for 400 years, a pleasant woman from the Netherlands asked him if the Ottomans had made their money from “robberies”. He was seriously offended and clearly with a good knowledge of history started citing instances of similar plunder by the Crusaders, Alexander the Great, and other such ‘invaders’ documented by history. The lady interrupted feebly with, “my English is not so good” as clearly she was referring to the spoils of war. But the guide was not prepared to let it go, “So what, I learnt my English in China!”
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The palace of course made up for the slightly tense beginning. It was fascinating to see the sacred relics like the Sword of Moses, tufts of hair from the beard of Prophet Muhammad, a bow and its case used by him, the swords in different shapes and sizes of the various Caliphs speaking clearly of their personalities, as part of the exhibits. No fuss, no screaming over the hair of the Prophet, no swooning and religious fervour over a footprint that the placard said was his (rather large feet one must say), no special enclosures, just straight history, recorded and displayed for the world to learn from. Mosques are open, and do not require visitors to cover their heads. No veils, no hijabs, everyone is welcome.

Azans rend the air five times a day with the Imams of the Grand Mosque and adjacent mosques having fine-tuned this to sound like a lyrical echo that wafts through Istanbul. Hagia Sophia looks on, having served as a former Orthdox patriarchal basilica and then a mosque, before it was turned into a ‘secular’ museum. A reflection of Kemal Ataturk’s Turkey where the East blends with the West is a mix that shows both in the best possible light.
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 Waiters in Istanbul are a breed apart. Entrusted with the task of enticing customers into the little restaurants on the sidewalks, they are quick to size up the tourists, using the argument they think will make the traveller stop and at least consider a quick coffee or a kebab before he or she continues with the mad dash around Istanbul. So with us it was, “you look like Shah Rukh Khan.” That was sufficient to make us pause not because anyone looked like the cine idol, but to find out what the waiter knew about the Indian film industry. He burst into a little song from a Bollywood movie, rattled off a couple of sentences in fluent Hindi, told us how much he liked Shah Rukh Khan and Salman Khan and clearly well versed in Bollywood politics added, “But we know we cannot see them here together.” Needless to say we had the kebabs.
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A flight to Izmir and a few hours later, we were braving the hot sun in Ephesus, ruins standing witness to historical documentation of this being one of the great cities of the Greeks, as also of the Romans as the centuries rolled by. The ruins of the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the World a long time ago, are mute testimony to the grandeur of those times. But the favourite remains the stone with perhaps the first graffiti in the world, a footprint along with a semi-naked woman pointing towards the brothel. As the story goes, the men out for a family outing would send their women and children to the market, and would walk over to the adjacent library (a beautiful structure) ostensibly to spend some quality time. An underground passage and the graffiti would lead them to the brothel after which they would join their families, well enriched with their intellectual pursuits.
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A tiny picturesque little cottage tucked away in the hills was where Virgin Mary spent her last days. Turkey claims the site as authentic pointing to the fact that St John had visited the area, and letters suggesting that the Mother of Jesus Christ had indeed lived here. In fact, several Biblical figures had been in these parts, including St Paul. Nuns mingled with the tourists, even as a priest conducted a prayer service at the site. A nun, particularly fascinated with Indian bangles, graciously accepted these with a return gift of a ring. She could be seen trying on the bangles with the help of others around.
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The last word goes to the shopkeepers of Turkey as they entice tourists with, “This is handmade, genuine Turkish, not machine made from India and China.”

The writer is a senior New Delhi-based journalist