Market Life

Buyurun!! Buyurun!” (“Here it is,” roughly translated). “Come, come inside, here — very special deal for you!” All for you — the customer. You — the bullseye. You, the lifeblood of Istanbul’s markets, the highly developed social organs comprised of tight, winding arteries streaming with foot traffic. Here, one negotiates not just deals, but the deluge of impressions — a strong waft of fish, roasted nuts, trash, cheese; bumping shoulders, people yelling, the whir of transactions. Wares crowd the streets — figs, walnuts, ginger and cardamom, tea, silk, precious stones, bulk rolls of linen, large sacks of tobacco, statues, gold, cheap trinkets from China — you can buy literally anything you need here. Everything you’ll never need, too. Either way, the thrill of pursuit pulses through the shops, as mock arguments break out over fluid prices. Delivery boys skate through crowds balancing tea, lunch packages, making a game of it. And it all feels like a game somehow, or theater. This time around, one tout cuts the acting — “c’mon friend, just come spend your money here, that’s all I really care about.” This man understands how to bend the rules better than most — funny, unexpected honesty sells. I’ll play. We banter, and there’s a glint in his eyes. I pull away, and try to get my bearings. Then it hits — suddenly, the customer doesn’t always know best, because suddenly, the customer is lost.

4/6 in a series I’m doing for @gaptogreat on Istanbul