Hey. Welcome. This is the journal of Todd Harris. I record random thoughts here, mostly about traveling. I collect tidbits and misadventures in the mountains of the Western United States on Toddot.net. I blog about genomics, bioinformatics, and science policy on my professional blog.

Hi. Hello. Excuse me. Where are you from?

March 22, 2007


Monkey testicles

Take a walk through the Grand Bazaar or the Spice Bazaar and you are likely to hear this phrase hundreds of times.

Or maybe you’ll hear “¡Hola, buenas tardes!” or “Bongiorno!”. The really good touts size you up and guess your nationality before you’ve even reached their booth. If you don’t respond, they quickly move onto the next language in their arsenal. I don’t know what to make of the fact that I usually get “Bonjour”. I wasn’t even wearing my beret today (1).

The pushy ones get right up in your face, blocking your way with a friendly grin and an outstretched hand. “How do you do? Where are you from?”. I know that some people just ignore the salesmen in places like this, but that’s just plain rude and cuts against my midwestern upbringing. They are just trying to earn a living and if you don’t like it, you should stay away from markets.

In the Spice Bazaar, I sat and chatted with one salesman after telling him I wasn’t buying anything. He spent 15 minutes explaining to me what everything was then insisted that I stay for a cup of tea. Famous Turkish hospitalilty is around every corner.

Just after sundown, I was taking photos of the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofya when I encountered the reported “let’s go get a drink” scam twice. The idea is this: a stranger befriends you and offers to show you a cool pub. The second you sit down, other people join the table and order drinks. When you are finally presented with the tab, it’s 100s of YTL at which point you are invited to pay or invited to the back room.

Immediately after, I was wandering around taking photos on the Hippodrome. “Merhaba, where are you from?” a stranger walking past asks. By this time, I was pretty frazzled and didn’t want to deal with more crap so I just kept walking. He calls out after me, “What, don’t you like to talk to people?”, in a surprised tone. I turned around and apologized, and he said, “Oh, just looked like you needed directions, I know the area very well”. I thanked him and explained my apprehension. He nodded in agreement said it’s good to be on your toes and we parted ways.

Travelling alone you have to know when to keep your guard up and when it’s safe to let it down. It’s usually pretty obvious but sometimes difficult when the good guys and the bad guys use the same tactics. Sometimes doors only open with a little bit of faith that you aren’t getting taken.

Footnotes:
1. I don’t own a beret although I did in high school.

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{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }

Gail Harris March 23, 2007 at 12:44 am

These are beautiful pictures. I love all the colors in the spices. Sounds rather scarey. Be careful. The buildings are beautiful. Have a great trip.

Dad March 25, 2007 at 9:07 pm

Do think the beret might be in the basement? I can send it to you!

tharris March 26, 2007 at 11:21 pm

Actually, I think the beret is pretty happy in the basement. But you can borrow it if you want!

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