When I am in a foreign place, it's always incredibly important to first: observe the customs, and be aware of my surroundings at all times. I think it's important to carry an understanding that people all over the world are struggling to make ends meet, and that in a tourist centred economy, there will be some bad actors that try to game the system in their favour. Istanbul with it's intensely capitalist market economy is certainly no exception to this.
It became apparent (especially as I got into the heavy tourist trap areas) that every man in Turkey is a salesman, and they do not take a day off. They see the lack of melanin in my skin combined with the sightseer outfit (hat, shades, bag in front of body), and probably don't even see me as a fellow person. At this point I'm walking down the street like a breathing ATM.
When you are new to Istanbul they will try to bleed you dry as fast as they can, and efficiently as they can. Before I even left Canada I was getting whatsapp texts from the hotel to get picked up in a private ride from the airport. For a pretty crazy sum. And the thing is, I went for it. Because at least it's a set price and you don't have to gamble on the shady-ass taxi drivers getting you there. Once I figured out the public transit I never went back.
Walking around on the street you get the standard harassment that comes with any open air market, I'm usually pretty decent at ignoring those guys or learning the word no in the language, for Turkish it's "hayir." Once they can't get you the first couple times, they will leave you alone any time they see you after that. It's like fishing to these guys, they just learn a couple phrases in the popular languages and shout at you as you pass until someone stops to talk, then they turn on the sales pitch.
One day out there I was having a great day. I had just visited the incredible Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque, talked to a volunteer representing (the good sides of) Islam for a long while and was flying high on a cloud of wonder and amusement in the very touristy Sultanahmet district.
This is where I got snagged by a fishing line. "Hey brother," I heard as I was probably staring up at the sky like a moron with my mouth open (easy prey). They guy fishing was a mid 30s typical Turkish dude, darker features and a highly developed script he uses probably 50 times a day.
I'm a solo traveller here who tends to be pretty social and likes to connect on a personal level. So when I let my guard down for a second, that was all that was needed by this guy to swoop in like a hawk with talon's out.
All the normal starter questions were asked to establish a quick rapport with the prospective mark... he asked "where you from," "how long you are here for," told me I looked Turkish and said I looked like I lived in Istanbul ( which couldn't be farther from the truth so this is when I started to get my wits back about me). He even told me about his family, and asked about mine.
When I had enough of the fake niceties, I said "alright man, I need to get going," and I started walking towards the hostel about 15 mins south. He said, "hey my uncle has a shop in that direction, do you mind if I walk that way with you?''
I said sure, and as we walked he must have recited some crazy turkish magic phrase since I ended up following him into his uncle's shop. This is where things got into the realm of Turkiye that isn't fun.
As I was led upstairs through the main floor area which seemed to be a regular shop of Turkish baubles and goods, I was more into seeing how this whole Turkish sales pitch was going to go. I knew t was going to be a little intense but I wasn't really prepared for the uncle.
As the nephew led me upstairs he asked if I wanted any tea or coffee, (they are hoping you say yes so that you feel like you owe them). I said yes, I also drank a bottle of water while I sat on a couch and looked around upstairs at all the crazy rugs. This is another scam as tourists looking for authentic Turkish rugs likely won't find that here. Although the rugs in this shop certainly looked nice, they also had uniform tags on every one and looked a bit to machine perfect to have any type of handmade authenticity.
So I sat and talked to the nephew some more as we waited for the big boss man to come in and give the whole sales pitch. He didn't disappoint.
After about 2 minutes of small talk and free water and tea, in strolls the "uncle." Wearing an 80s style oversized suit with shoulder pads you could tell he was going for the whole intimidation factor. He had one of those Turkish fidget spinner chain toys I see a lot of the men fiddling with on the regular and he takes a seat to my left while snapping it around. It was obvious he thought he was going to make a big sale that day.
He starts by telling me to look around at all the rugs and there was an air of supreme confidence and superiority to his tone. It was as if he was subliminally trying to tell me that these were the best rugs in all of Turkiye and I was lucky just to be in their presence. He has his younger nephew, or child or grandchild pick up about 10 rugs and start to lay them down on the floor in front of me, telling me to pick out my favourite. So I do, a blue one did look pretty cool for a cheap rug that was probably made in china.
He goes, "Oh you like this one, it is 2850.00 American dollars."
I couldn't stifle my laughter fast enough and let out a strained (admittedly slightly nervous at this point) chuckle. This didn't sit well with big boss man in the suit. A stole a few glances at him and he looked like a very stereotypical older Turkish salesman: darker features and a large nose, ears and mouth.
I now wanted the interaction to go on strictly for the story later. I retorted with "I wouldn't pay more than 100 bucks."
He came back with "Ok, now we have a starting point," with a slight grin that indicated towards sinking the fishing hook deeper. So we continued to dance as I took another sip of the tea. In retrospect I should have only drank from a sealed bottle when up in this strange shop in a strange land, who knows what could've been in that tea.
I knew I wasn't going to buy this shit. He thought he was snagging a sucker and all the other kids and nephews or whatever were here to watch their master sales uncle take down another unsuspecting sale. We were relatively caught in a stale mate that only I was seemingly aware of.
I thought it would be pertinent to mention at this point, "I'm not going to buy anything here, I barely have enough money to get home tonight."
Thinking this was a negotiation tactic he replied, "ok what do you think is a fair price for this rug?" You already asked me that buddy, do you want me to give you the actual honest answer for some crap that was obviously mass produced in a factory from far away? He went on "we do free shipping to all over the world, where are you from?" I told him "Canada."
He lit up a little again, and mentioned Toronto like it was the key to get back to the negotiation table. Little does he know, Toronto is of very little relevance to a west-coast Canadian. Mentioning that city would have actually hurt his chances if I was at all serious about buying any of his crap.
I said, "It doesn't matter about the free shipping, I'm honestly not going to buy anything today, thank you for the tea."
And his whole aura perceptively switched in that moment, he looked at me with angry eyes and said, "what if I put a gun to your head right now?"
There are a few times in my life where I've been held at gunpoint. It's not a good feeling. For some reason though when those fuckin words came out of this greasy sales guy, I wasn't in the least bit scared. It actually made me (internally this time) chuckle again. The only thing I said in a dry tone was "I don't like pressure sales tactics." You could see he was getting visually agitated now.
He was flailing with the rug in his hand as he continued to sit in the chair. Then he told me to empty my pockets.
I told him "hayir" which means no, and got up to leave.
At his point he was realizing the big fish of the moment was getting away. He actually threw the rug into the middle of the room, narrowly missing me by a few inches and looked absolutely furious (although still sitting, which made me a bit more at ease). As I continued to walk through the room towards the door he started shouting at me "YOU ARE NOT A MAN," and "WE HAD A DEAL." We did not good sir.
I said "tesekular edirim," which means thank you and put my hand over my heart with a slight bow as I backed out of the room slowly and was somewhat surprised when none of the other men in the room grabbed me. Needless to say I walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out the door back on the crazy busy streets of Sultanahmet. My heart was going a mile a minute at this point.
I walked home safely with a story to tell and a smile on my face as I got harassed by about 20 more shopkeepers on my way back to my hostel. Such is life in this absolutely bonkers part of Istanbul.
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