The Spice Bazaar is an experience: a huge covered market space full to bursting with stalls selling almost every spice known to man since 1660, for sale by the gram, kilo or tonne. It’s a bit of a hectic placing, brimming with nervous energy, the sort of place pale faced western women like me are advised against wandering about by themselves.Negotiations go on loudly between locals, tourists and stall holders alike. If you are inclined or practised in the art of bartering it’s probably as good as free in comparison to English prices. I, however, am a bit of a chicken. I lurk about trying to look inconspicuous and not scared witless for a while but eventually get snaffled up by a persistent stall holder into his liar.
He demands to know what I am after, confusion and panic force me to say Turkish Delight and from nowhere, as if by magic, trays upon trays of the stuff appear for tasting. I eventually settle for a rosewater flavoured bag and an orange selection (this is out of at least fifteen options, I feel I’ve done well getting it down to only two). The stall owner tells me I want some nuts, of course I do, think I and more tasting occurs until I choose some roasted chilli nuts and a bag of fresh pistachios.
On we move to the teas, I having some tea obviously, any form of protest is pointless. More trays appear and I am made to sniff a dozen varieties before I am allowed to choose apple or orange, kettles and samovars then appear and I am given a demonstration in the art of making tea. I settle on the orange one and it is cleverly vacuum packed for me and I am eventually allowed to leave. Strangely as I pass back through the bazaar, now armed with my various packages, no one comes near me.
He demands to know what I am after, confusion and panic force me to say Turkish Delight and from nowhere, as if by magic, trays upon trays of the stuff appear for tasting. I eventually settle for a rosewater flavoured bag and an orange selection (this is out of at least fifteen options, I feel I’ve done well getting it down to only two). The stall owner tells me I want some nuts, of course I do, think I and more tasting occurs until I choose some roasted chilli nuts and a bag of fresh pistachios.
On we move to the teas, I having some tea obviously, any form of protest is pointless. More trays appear and I am made to sniff a dozen varieties before I am allowed to choose apple or orange, kettles and samovars then appear and I am given a demonstration in the art of making tea. I settle on the orange one and it is cleverly vacuum packed for me and I am eventually allowed to leave. Strangely as I pass back through the bazaar, now armed with my various packages, no one comes near me.
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