Traces & Places

I am almost out of breath while half way on my way to Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar, the Turkish version of the Egyptian Khan El Khalili. The streets go up and down just like brightly illuminated roller coasters. Big black cobble stones are painful to my feet. I wet my lips, the weather is ice-cold, and my coat is dreadfully heavy just like my bladder.

Yesterday, I visited the Spice Bazaar after praying in the Blue Mosque next to it. Instantly, my nose reacted to the pungent smell of the various spices. Cumin took me back home and specifically to Fridays when mom fries fish after seasoning it with cumin, salt and lemon. I had expected to smell the aroma of burning incense but found nothing of the kind.

In a restaurant nearby a man is holding a woman’s coffee cup reading the marks made by the Turkish coffee on the inside of the cup predicting her future. Had not we Egyptians had the same superstition, I would have thought it queer.

I am finally at Eminönü’s market which leads to the Grand Bazaar. I find tiny haberdashery shops with lots of drawers, buttons and small articles.

Other shops sell trays for jewelry boxes and embroidered white costumes for boys that are worn during circumcision parties. Long feathers of the same color adorn the hats.
I smell the famous doner meat. My bladder goes heavier. I look for a public WC.

I enter a corridor between two shops.
A man sits in a small quiet hall before the WC. A sign says "One Lira".

The place is quite wondrous, there is a white dome on the ceiling where translucent, green and white glass carry the dim daylight in. Recorded bird voices add serenity to the clean place.

As I walk feeling fresh out of the WC the man wants to spray lemon cologne on my hands. I react repulsively trying to steer away from the splashes thinking that I need to pay one more Lira for the cologne. He is astonished. I realize my mistake, I do not need to pay more. Silly me, it is because every extra service in Egypt requires paying so I assumed it was the same here.

Embarrassingly, I extend my hand for cologne, smile, then leave.

I prepare to enter the Grand Bazaar only to find its gate closed tightly. It is the last day of “Kurban Bayrami” Feast as vendors tell me. Alas.

Returning in disappointment I can still smile and buy on my way back some fragranced olive oil soap bars and colorful wallets.

I will never forget that day because of the hilarious and bizarre moment of misunderstanding when I was afraid of lemon cologne.