my-place

My Favorite Place: The Grand Bazaar

199Due to economic erisis I started to work a few jobs at the same time. Radio, television, new arti- des in new magazines … There are many people who are in the same
Anyways, going back to the story, while I was wandering araund grumbling, an Algerian tradesman who spoke Turkish learnt that I came from İstanbul. He looked at me surprised and said: “‘you live in the city where there are the world’s most beautiful objects, carpets, jewels and antiques. You live where the Grand Bazaar is. You can’t !ike anything here”.
position with me. I think we should turn this situation into an enjoyable one. If we don’t enjoy it, on top of all the problems, boredom will be added to our lives. Yes, this is my cold comfort.
The man was right, but, no matter what, I was planning to find something to take home with me. Finally, I bought a silver bracelet. And it got lost that day because its buckle broke. Why did I teli you this story? Because I am trying to solve the magic of the Grand Bazaar so I am finding clues. Yes, here in Cebeci Inn, I feel !ike I am truely a world citizen. I can’t stop looking at the carpets and kilims that came from all over the world and I am about to lose my mind in this colorful and rich world of kilims. “God” I say to me, “how many thousands of workshops are there in the world so that these incredibly
And immediately I thought about the good sides of a new job. First of all, you meet new people and places. With a young enthusiasm you just rush to new works. That is to say, you suddenly get younger. This is the way it is with me. One of the magazines I started to write for was the Grand Bazaar Magazine which tries to explain every little detail about the Bazaar. It is published once in a month. With its people, apprentices, stories, architecture and stock exchanges, this lovely Pandora’s Box quietly opens. Lately, it became my favorite place. Because I love this place and I want to explain to you the hints of my love as well. Have a trip with me to the mysterious Grand Bazaar. Here I go: AL @Z~I SEVnEYLE 1 IŞIL ÖZGENTÜRK As I was in Cebeci Inn, one of the most beautiful places in the Bazaar, sitting on the cushions that were made of kilims of every kind, taking a sip from my Turkish coffee that sat on a Syrian made Oriental coffee table, I couldn’t help thinking what a magical place this bazaar was. Yes, I was really in a magical place and I felt !ike I belonged to Cebeci Inn as if I had lived there for long years. What was it that made this place so attractive? Years ago, in the Constantine city of Algeria, I was wandering araund the stores to find something that I !ike and to take home with me. I have a habit of walking around the shops and finding things that suits to my taste in every place I go, from the world’s most beautiful capital cities to a smail town in Anatolia. I was also wandering araund the city of cliffs,

Anyways, going back to the story, while I was wandering araund grumbling, an Algerian tradesman who spoke Turkish learnt that I came from İstanbul. He looked at me surprised and said: “‘you live in the city where there are the world’s most beautiful objects, carpets, jewels and antiques. You live where the Grand Bazaar is. You can’t !ike anything here”.

The man was right, but, no matter what, I was planning to find something to take home with me. Finally, I bought a silver bracelet. And it got lost that day because its buckle broke. Why did I teli you this story? Because I am trying to solve the magic of the Grand Bazaar so I am finding clues. Yes, here in Cebeci Inn, I feel !ike I am truely a world citizen. I can’t stop looking at the carpets and kilims that came from all over the world and I am about to lose my mind in this colorful and rich world of kilims. “God” I say to me, “how many thousands of workshops are there in the world so that these incredibly

beautiful kilims never end.” After that, I think about coppers. Whenever I go to Gaziantep, the city I was bom in and spent my first youth, I absolurely stop by the coppersmith’s bazaars. The rhythmic souı:ıd that is heard when the copper is beaten, is the sound of my childhood. In Gaziantep, I used to walk along the streets of coppersmiths to go to school. As children, we would make up songs with this rhythm and walk to the school with daneing steps. Now, in this place where thousands of different coppers are presented in skilled craftsmanship, I go back to those splendid, carefree days of my childhood. As I touch and watch the copper pitchers, vessels and lantems, a feeling of freedam finds me and I get more impatient to see more. I wonder if there is any different kind or craftmanship that I have never seen before. I can stroll in the Grand Bazaar for days without getting bored by looking at all those beauties which are created by the mankind with admiration. I never forger the time when I visited the Seljuk Museum, in which perhaps the world’s most beautiful subsoil sculptures exist. During this visit I saw a very small golden sculpt, which the famous painter Picasso secretly copied. No matter what, I wanted to touch it and it was at that moment that I completely tınderstood the passian for antiques, the lives dedicated to this work, and the crazy desire for going back to the past. This was something marvelous. I feel the same kind of passian for the Grand Bazaar, especially for the part where the old jewelries are. Who knows where that diamond brooch with a bird on it, that pair of shining diamond earrings or that hard to resist watch came from? However, I don’t !ike wearing real jewelry at all. Perhaps it is because I have never had the money to buy them; but watching that work of arts earrings, brooches and neckl::ıccs is !ike nı• wing inr,) a w<ırlrl “here <l11l) beauties exist. One can nevcr have enough of that. God! Mankind’s passian for beauty is endless. T continue to find the reason!’ of this magic. Whaı ::ıbouı tlı•’·’r ::ıtın.·ıivr ,·olur.5 ,,r ıhı· f;:ıbrics “lııdı c•Jıne ti·om Pakistan, Syria and India. Flashy glitters of velvets. All the opposite coloı·s are sidc hy side, a rebellion. a storm of colors which no painter can’t dare! I am sitting in Cebeci Han with these thoughts in my mind. The doors will be closed soon but I stil! couldn’t find the reason of the magic, but J have made a long way. And at least lleamed this; ı feel myself !ike a world citizen here. That is why I feel pleasure and can not stop coming here.

 Işıl Özgentürk

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