Revisiting The Grandest Bazaar Of All

One of the long halls

Spices, spices, spices

I first visited Istanbul's Grand Bazaar two years ago during our first, post-child couple's getaway weekend. This week we're back with a four year old in tow and introducing Sidney to the sights, sounds, and smells that make Istanbul Istanbul. And since no trip to this city would be complete without a stroll through the Grand Bazaar, this is where I spent an afternoon with Sidney. My impressions remain the same but visiting with a child only magnified the lights, sounds, and colors. It was once again overwhelming to the senses but exciting at the same time. In honor of this visit I'm reposting my original blog entry....

While in Istanbul we succumbed to what all first time visitors do and visited the Grand Bazaar.  Having visited sauks in Dubai I thought I knew what to expect but nothing could have prepared me for the epic scale of Istanbul's great bazaar.  There are numerous smaller shopping areas throughout the city and we inadvertently wandered through several of those during our stay.   The Grand Bazaar, however, is the granddaddy of them all.

The bazaar itself dates back to 1461.  It was originally designed to be a local shopping market and in some cases it still is today.  However, I doubt any of its original architects would recognize it as such.  Today's bazaar encompasses over 60 streets and 5,000 shops and attracts upwards of 350,000 visitors a day.  Fortunately we visited on a "quiet" Monday but I still found the crows overwhelming.

That's a lot of silver

So what did we find?  A mix of locals and fanny pack wearing tourists wandered the catacomb of hallways lined with everything from spice, leather, and carpet vendors to suave looking young men hawking fake Levis, perfumes, and knick-knacks with unidentifiable purposes.  It was loud, chaotic, and truly an experience.

Bright lights

We could hardly walk a few feet without someone calling out a sales pitch to us.  We were undeniably recognizable as Americans; so much so that when people asked us where we were from we started answering with "Albania".   That would usually throw them off long enough for us to make a hasty escape.  Carpet salesmen were the worst.  It was hard to admire the beautiful Turkish carpets on display in windows without being pestered by pushy salesmen.  The more aggressive ones chased us down the hallways using sales pitches that made me want to run rather than linger.  Salesmen at silver and diamond stores looked more distinguished but used equally cheesy pick up lines.

Some body's watching you

It seemed as though the infamous "evil eye" was sold in every other booth.  Those salesmen appeared particularly desperate.  My favorite sales pitch started with the words "I've been waiting for you."  Really?  Do people really fall for this?  I felt an incredible urge to go back to the hotel to shower after some of these come-ons.  Unfortunately when I browsed at a local soap vendor I was so turned off from the sales pitch that I just couldn't bring myself to purchase any of the olive oil soap.

We did walk away with a few small sales. It turns out that Glenn is a haggler.  Who knew?  I knew I wanted to purchase some saffron from one of the spice vendors.  Glenn stepped up to the plate and haggled our way into a significant purchase that would have broken the bank had I ordered it from my regular on-line spice store.  I also scored a kilogram of delicious apple tea.  We had tried it on several occasions and I wanted to recreate our Istanbul experience back in Tirana.  We also bought a few other items which I will refrain from discussing since the lucky recipients just might be reading this.

Bling

We think we roamed most of the hallways of the bazaar but after a while everything began to look the same and we had reached our saturation point.  It was a truly Istanbul experience which I'm glad we braved.  Will I return on our next trip to Istanbul?  I just might.

Hoarding No More

I developed an ugly habit while we were in Albania. Hoarding. Yes, hoarding; the compulsion to accumulate as much of an item as possible because I feared not having any. For me, food and other household consumables were my compulsion, or more specifically a well stocked pantry filled with everything and anything I could even need to cook a meal. By my own admission, the pantry was well stocked and shocked more than a few people who witnessed it. "Why do you need so much stuff?" was the most common question I was repeatedly asked by visitors. I found it hard to explain the why. But in my defense, despite what others said, I came by this habit honestly.

So why did I hoard? Simply put because there were so many items that I just could not buy in Albania. Or if I could buy them locally their quality was substandard compared to what I was used to. But I knew this before we even arrived in the country. That didn't mean I feared our starving while there; rather if we were going to continue to cook and eat the way we enjoyed, I was going to have to find many of my ingredients elsewhere. (If items met certain size and consistency parameters I could buy them online then wait weeks for them desired item to arrive through our mail system). And that is what I did. I spent the weeks before our departure scouring the aisles of the local grocery stores buying every item I thought I would need over the next two years. Sugars, flours and speciality baking items were purchased by the case. The same held true for favored sauces and must have condiments. Anything that derived from either Asian or Mexican cuisine was shipped in as well. But the items went beyond food stuffs. Ziploc bags and trash bags --items that either couldn't be found or whose poor quality essentially rendered them useless-- were like gold and rationed out slowly over the course of our time there. One tube of toothpaste wasn't enough; two dozen might cut it. The same went for saline solution for my contacts, shampoos, conditioners, preferred soaps, and the list just goes on. Fortunately our Albanian house had a huge pantry which, much to our housekeeper's horror, we immediately filled with case upon case of imported products. Standing back and looking at our impressive stash of items I felt comforted knowing that we wouldn't run out of an item. Ironically enough, the most of the stash lasted us through our entire tour with my only having to give away a few illogically purchased items.....a case of A-1 Steak Sauce anyone? I'm really not sure what I was thinking when I made that purchase!

But oh how times have changed. Here in Belgium I now have ready access to just about any ingredient I could ever need. If I can't find it on the local shelves I can order it online and it will arrive in my mailbox in approximately one week. And for old time's sake as I finish unpacking I am finding stashes of items that I had long forgotten about--six bottles of a favorite shampoo felt like Christmas. But more importantly I now have what I consider to be the world's smallest pantry. With only a few shelves I simply no longer have the room to buy multiples of everything. But then again, there isn't the need to buy in bulk. Whereas I never ran out of anything in Albania on occasion, here I am finding myself out of an item here making me rue the fact I didn't buy a second container.  Although it is surfacing with less frequency, on trips to the grocery store I do still find myself loading my cart with multiples of the same items before pausing then removing all but one of them. Its taking me a while to break this habit but out of sheer necessity I am. And do you know what....if feels good.

(Consumer) Culture Shock

I remember the first time I stepped foot in an Albanian grocery store. Looking around me I felt overwhelmed and out of my element as I didn't recognize any of the items I saw. At first glance the shelves were filled with a variety of items with foreign labels written in Italian, Greek, and sometimes Albanian. Items were not organized the same way they were in American stores leaving me wandering aimlessly through the aisles unable to find what I was looking for. At first I wasn't sure whether the item was simply unavailable in Albania, I was searching in the wrong place, or I was looking right at it and not recognizing it. After awhile, by looking closely at items, thanks to pictures, I was eventually able to figure out what was inside of most cans and jars but I still erred every once in awhile. I remember thinking I was buying capers and once they were added to my chicken piccata discovering that they were actually green peppercorns. Oops! Over time, however, my comfort level at Albanian shopping grew to the point where I knew what was located where and what was available, meaning on a good day I could be in and out of the store in a matter of minutes.  I learned to love the products that were available and became incredibly innovative in making substitutions when needed. And then we moved...............

I'll admit, here in Belgium, I'm once again feeling a bit overwhelmed about stepping foot in a grocery store. After living in a second world country, the choices available to me are stymieing me from the moment I grab my shopping carriage. Because we are now located in close proximity to an American military base, I now have regular access to commissaries. For the unfamiliar, commissaries are essentially military grocery stores that sell American grocery products. Regardless of where you are in the world, whether you are in Virginia, San Diego, Japan or yes, Belgium, the store layouts are the same and you can buy your Oscar Meyer Bacon, Old El Paso Taco shells and Bounty paper towels. (It is like having a little piece of America in your shopping cart). Stepping into the commissary for the first  time I felt like I was immediately transported back to  northernVirginia. But I was overwhelmed just the same. I was simply not used to having so many options.

By the time we left Albania many of the most popular American brands were available in the stores. Heinz ketchup lined the shelves and it even came in a "spicy" version which wasn't all that spicy. Coke was always available but the European version was made with sugar rather than corn syrup, which produced a drink with a totally different flavor. Pringles were readily available in every store in Albania but the flavors were different and limited. Sidney's favorite in Albania were called "spicy" which in reality was a red pepper flavor. Here the choices are endless; while not including red pepper you can even buy pecan pie and guacamole or one of many other varieties. Who knew?  Looking for an easy dinner option, I selected boxed pasta and Barilla sauce from the shelf. First, the number of brands available to me was overwhelming. While the pasta tasted the same as the Albanian version, the sauce, one that I regularly bought in Albania, was different. Despite being the same brand, what was in my jar was sweeter and thicker than what I had bought in Albania. Looking closely at the label I saw that my Italian Barilla pasta sauce had been imported from the United States. I suddenly found myself longing for my European sauce. And rice for risotto, my go-to meal? None could be found on the shelves but I could have bought ten different varieties of instant or quick cooking white rice. But some of the differences in products were wonderful. My name brand paper towels purchased from the commissary were soft and absorbent rather than the flimsy yet stiff paper products I had grown accustomed to. My hands actually felt soft rather than shriveled and dry after washing a sink full of dishes with my American dish detergent. These are a few of the "luxuries" I had been missing.

But my options don't end there. In addition to the American commissary, there is a whole variety of European grocery stores in Belgium. The most prevalent appears to be Carrefour, a French grocery chain that also established a small footprint in Albania during our final year there. But all Carrefour stores are not created equal. I know stores cater to their market and in that respect I suppose that the Albanian Carrefour stores meet the needs of their clientele. In fact, the items they carried were not all that different from those sold in the other grocery store chain in Albania. Choices were limited but somehow it seemed to work. But Belgian Carrefour stores? They are a whole other beast that are

overwhelming in their own (good) way. Looking for cheese? Forget one aisle, there are several. Do you want crackers to accompany your cheese? There is an entire aisle of different varieties dedicated to just this. In Albania you might find an entire aisle of crackers but they were all the same saltine-style cracker. Juice? With the exception of the red orange juice that Sidney loves, this Carrefour has every variety imaginable. And yes, there are American brands as well. In addition to European brands, the cereal aisle is filled with Kellogg's varieties that again, I never knew existed. Need to fulfill your Mexican cravings? You have choices here too. And the options just go on and on.

Honestly, at the moment I feel as though I have too many choices. While I still love certain American products, I've grown used to shopping in local markets and for the most part, buying European products. (For all you bakers out there, those gourmet European butters that cost an arm and a leg in America are everyday inexpensive here!). Even in the midst of my cultural shocked daze, I'm realizing that I now have the best of both worlds. I can buy the American products I love (cleaning and paper products) and the European brands I've grown to prefer all while discovering items unique to Belgium. Once I recover from my initial shock, this is going to be fun. And if history holds true, I'll soon be in and out of these stores in a matter of minutes as well.........or maybe not since I do have a lot of options.

Last Chance

Tis the season of sales......or so it would seem judging by the traffic in my email in box recently.  Advertising emails have apparently replaced old fashioned paper junk mail but the intent is the same.  It seems as though not a minute or two can go by without a new offer for a must-have, last minute item appearing before me on my computer screen. From sweaters and mass produced jewelry to electronics and snow blowers, it is all on sale "for today only".  Really? I've lost track of the number of final offers that reappear under the headlines of "sale extended" the next day.  And of course everyone is offering free shipping with a guaranteed delivery by Christmas Day. Maybe I am too cynical but it seems as though mass consumerism has taken over the holidays with no celebration being complete without a towering pile of wrapped, but unneeded items sitting under the tree.  Do we really need more stuff?

 

And now it is Christmas Eve and I once again woke to find my inbox filled with more promotions for even more last minute deals.  I suppose with Christmas itself being mere hours away the end is in sight (but I'm also receiving post Christmas sale notices now).  I know I am a planner but how is it that with Christmas sales starting in November and stores opening on Thanksgiving Day, that people are still shopping at the last minute.  Are their gift giving lists that big, do they simply procrastinate, or are they holding out hope for an even bigger and better last minute deal?  Who are these shoppers anyway and more importantly, who are they buying these special gifts for?

 

Perhaps it is physical distance from the American holiday shopping chaos that is allowing me to be so cynical.  I haven't stepped foot in an American shopping mall in years and have only ventured into the Albanian ones a handful of times under complete duress.  Relying on a restrictive mail system that can take any where from two to six weeks to deliver packages from the US to Albania means that any online shopping I planned on doing had to be completed long before the Thanksgiving / Black Friday shopping frenzy.  So attention Target, Gap, Williams Sonoma, Amazon, and everyone else who has been spamming my inbox with deals, these offers are totally lost on me.  While I have yet to wrap the few gifts we exchange, they were purchased and received months ago.  That means that instead of taking part in the feeding frenzy we've been decorating our house, baking holiday goodies, and spending time together as a family.  And that is what this season should be about.

 

Merry Christmas everyone!

Oh Black Friday

This is a repost from this day last year.  But this year I am even more disheartened by the fact that so many more retailers opted to open yesterday touting even more "deals" for our consumerism driven society.  Their opening robbed thousands of low wage retail employees of the opportunity to have a day off and the ability to spend a time honored American holiday with their families.  Is this really what America stands for?

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One of the few things that makes me embarrassed to be an American is the chaotic mob scenes and feeding frenzy that surround Black Friday.  Forget the mass consumerism aspect of what the holidays have become; it is the actual shopping madness that turns me off the most.  While most of the world was waking up, heading to work for the last day of the week, and going about their everyday business, millions of Americans are standing in line, braving crowds, and in some cases storming stores in order to score what they deemed was a great deal.  Why does the idea of buying an item, that you probably don't need in the first place, at a reduced price, drive us to join in the feeding frenzy? From stories of young children being left alone in cold vehicles while adults shop to women engaging in fist fights and guns being pulled on fellow bargain hunters, reports of these behaviors is down right humiliating.  And let us not forget the Walmart employee who was trampled to death by a crowd of over eager shoppers a few years ago.  Really?  For a Walmart item?  What on earth does Walmart sell that is so special that it causes a stampede?  Every year news reports show footage of people camping out in front of big box electronics stores so that they can get their hands on  that year's "must have" item.  Is a 51 inch flat screen television worth it?  Is receiving a free sample size of lotion because you were one of the first one hundred people to enter the store worth staying up all night?

I love a good deal just as much as the next person (maybe more) but I just don't see the attraction of this shopping frenzy.  Maybe I am jaded from my early post-college years when I worked in retail.  My Thanksgivings were never spent with family since I had to work at crack 'o dawn on Friday morning.  (I guess I should be grateful that this was in the days before stores decided to open on Thursday night).  Perhaps it is having seen the deal seeking crowds first hand that was enough to turn me off from the shopping craze.  I once had a boyfriend whose mother was a Black Friday shopping fanatic.  She would go to bed early on Thanksgiving evening so she could be the first one in the stores in the morning.  She developed her shopping strategy around who was giving away freebies at which hour and usually came home with a variety of useless items whose only appropriate use were the office white elephant party.

The Internet age has ushered in the online equivalent of the Friday shopping spectacle:  Cyber Monday.  Much like its end of the week counterpart, this is the day where great Internet deals are supposed to abound.  Maybe this is a calmer, more civilized way of shopping; I have no idea since it all takes place behind closed doors with no witnesses if you get in a fist fight with your spouse over who gets control the computer.  The irony of it all is that, like Black Friday's sales that actually begin on Thanksgiving evening, many of Cyber Monday's steals began on Saturday.   And how many of these deals are really deals?  Many of these so-called deals that keep popping up in my in-box offer no more of a savings than those that were appearing last week or even last month.  My response to each new offer is to promptly click delete but I'm probably in the minority on this since 52% of shoppers are planning on completing their holiday shopping online this year.  But will they all be shopping on Cyber Monday? Or will they be holding out for a better deal?

I recently had a conversation with several international friends about what it means to be American and what others think of as America.  It saddened me to hear that some of the first responses involved shopping malls, miles of highways, and Oprah.  Really? Italy has great food, Paris has the Eiffel Tower and the United States has Walmart?  What does that say about our country and our culture?  How do we break this stereo-type?  Images of brawling bargain hunters buying mass quantities of cheap Chinese produced merchandise certainly isn't the answer.  Maybe I need to just accept America for what it is:  the land of the free and the home of the brave and mass consumerism.

Confessions Of A Recovering Shoe-A-holic

I am a recovering shoe addict.  There I said it.  I say recovering since, while I still absolutely adore shoes, they don't excite me the way they used to. Perhaps my love of shoes is a direct rebellion against my anti-fashion mother because the minute I had any disposable income I started buying shoes.  Sky-high heels or ballet flats, it didn't matter.  As long as they were cute they were the shoe for me.  From an early age I've always noticed what other people are wearing on their feet and right or wrong, quickly pass judgement on what I see.  As someone who firmly believes that athletic shoes should only be worn when actually performing an athletic activity, I am quick to notice whether or not the shoes match the occasion.  A cocktail dress is ruined if it isn't paired with an appropriately dressy pair of shoes.  Scuffed shoes closed with Velcro strips do nothing for a man wearing a suit.  I often feel as though people forget to look down once they are dressed and throw on whatever pair of shoes they have available.  Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

In my single days I thought nothing of dropping a large chunk of change for the perfect shoes.  After all, what else did I have to spend my money on?  The higher the heels, the more unusual in design, generally the more impractical the better was my motto.  While I loved a good sale if I saw the perfect pair I would buy them immediately.  As so many young adults do, I moved often in my twenties and my number one priority in selecting a new home was the availability of space to store my shoes.  I needed shelves.  Because I always kept the shoes stacked in their original boxes--label side out of course-- I found myself continually on a quest to find the perfect storage space to accommodate my ever expanding collection.  Yes, I turned down more than one otherwise perfectly acceptable apartment because the storage space was utterly inadequate.

When I met Glenn I was simultaneously horrified yet pleased with what I saw.  The man only owned a couple of pairs of shoes and bragged that he hadn't bought any in several years.  (In fact, with the exception of a pair of running shoes I bought and shipped to him while he was deployed, we had been married for five years before he even bought himself a new pair of shoes).  However, he never wore sneakers unless exercising and in true military fashion, his shoes were always shined to perfect precision.  That my friends, is a good thing.  And when we agreed to move in together he ceded three quarters of his closet space for my shoes.  I was in love. Of course as I got organized in anticipation of the big move, I realized that I owned over two hundred pairs of shoes.  Gulp.  That was bad. It was one thing to look at my extravagant collection and receive occasional complements on my footwear but it was another thing to have someone else looking at the wall of boxes every day.  As hard as it was I did what I had to and did my first major purge of my shoe collection. Out went 120 pairs--many in pristine condition---donated to charity and I moved with a respectable (???) 80 pairs.  My mother knew it was serious since I had never met anyone before who inspired me to get rid of my precious shoes.

Fast forward a few years.  Still in the workforce, undergoing a very long deployment all alone, and working within proximity of the largest mall with the best selection of shoe stores in Hampton Roads, my number of shoes gradually crept up.  When Glenn returned from deployment he looked quizzically at the stacks of shoe boxes in the closet but said nothing.  Instead he set about designing an enlarged master bedroom suite with a walk in closet that would accommodate my shoes (and his as well).  But then I got pregnant and a sad thing happened.  With my pregnancy came bloating and swelling that made it impossible for me to wear any of my shoes.  Under duress (and pain) I dutifully went to Nordstrom's where I purchased a pair of black Dansko clogs. They were ugly but I hate it admit it, comfortable and I found myself wearing them exclusively for the remaining months of my pregnancy and beyond.

Much to my dismay, when I returned to the point of wanting to wear cute shoes again, none of them fit. Yes, in the course of my pregnancy my foot had increased by half a shoe size making all but a handful of my beautiful shoes unwearable.  I was horrified but continued to try to squeeze into them on occasion while those Dansko clogs became my staples.  I could have replaced some of them but a collection that has been amassed over many years is not easily replaced.  Besides, with a child, I had other things to be spending our money on.  Unable to part with them I moved them all overseas with us and stacked them in piles in our wardrobes.  Every once in a while I would break them out for a reception only to regret it later.  Not only were they horribly uncomfortable but walking in heels on Albania's broken streets and sidewalks means taking your life into your own hands. Desperate for comfort and practicality I discovered Clarks, a good old European shoe that was study enough to withstand Albania (and the rest of Europe's) rough-on-shoes surfaces.  The shoes aren't sexy or cute but they work for my current lifestyle.  (If my twenty year old self could see me now, she would simply die).

As we prepare to move again, into a house that will be much smaller than what we have now, I made an important decision.  I was going to truly purge my shoes once again (and then some).  Anything that didn't fit, wasn't comfortable, or I hadn't worn since we arrived in Albania would be donated.  So last night while my boys were out I steeled myself with a glass of wine and set to work.  Unceremoniously I went through all four of my wardrobes and discarded shoes that I had forgotten I had even owned.  As I opened the boxes I peered at footwear that I didn't even remember buying, couldn't imagine having bought, or looked at lovingly.  It was hard but I did it.  In the end over fifty pairs of shoes left the house last night.  Will I miss them?  Probably not.  I'm sure at some point in the future I will be looking for that pair that perfectly matches a dress and wonder where they went.  I know that when it comes time to move I will not have to endure the mutters of astonishment from the movers. (Yes, it doesn't matter what language you speak Mr. Mover, I know you are passing judgement on the number of my shoes).

I still love shoes and am horrified that my son only wants to wear sneakers with everything but I know that my shoe phase is behind me.  It was fun while it lasted but now my middle aged feet are thanking me for finally realizing the wisdom that comes with wearing sensible footwear.  They may not be the sexy sky-high heels of my twenties but they are the perfectly appropriate--and comfortable-- footwear that makes this temporarily living in Europe mom's feet happy.