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A twilight walk took us back to our neighborhood shop, stocked with the usual: cheese, olives, sugar-frosted Turkish confections and the same teenage clerk as evenings past. "This is our favorite store!" I gesticulated wildly, having had my earlier Turkish language attempts met with a shrug and a smile. "Goodbye," he grinned, handing over my bag of snacks and bottled water. Wandering the maze of the Spice Market and the Grand Bazaar, however, was a different experience. "Sadece bakıyorum," (sah-de-JAY bah-KUH-yo-room, I'm just looking) I found myself saying, and I soon noticed I was walking exactly in the middle of the alley, equidistant from the cries and shouts on both sides. |
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