Where’s the Flying Ship?

Taren Manley


A bazaar experience
Photo: Taren Manley

As we followed our slightly lost professor through the alleyways of Istanbul, I couldn’t help thinking that the bazaar we were going to was probably going to be exactly like all the rest that we had seen before.  Nothing could top the bazaars in the countries that we had been in previously.  In Thailand they were almost built into the sidewalks in certain areas, some even forcing you to walk through them to reach the building you wanted to see.  In India the bazaars were so swarmed with people that at times it felt as though you were being crushed.  In Dubai the items that were being sold--the Gold Souk, Spice Souk, and others--sectioned off each bazaar.  In Egypt the bazaar was a combination of the former three as well as hawking, catcalling, and flirting all rolled into one.  Let’s just say I didn’t think that I’d be impressed just because Marco Polo had shopped there.

            As we walked through the first entrance, I was shocked to see only one shop and a narrow corridor that led to another one. I was shocked, because if that was all the bazaar consisted of it was going to be a complete waste of time.  I’m glad I was wrong, because walking through the second entrance was a whole new story.

            The narrow passage split off in three other directions: left, right, and straight; every single one was crammed with people and shops barely revealing the cobblestone pavement beneath our feet.  To the left and right were uncovered stalls or small inlet shops; we later found out that the passage basically circles the whole bazaar.  Straight ahead was a huge, domed building.  From the entrance you could see gold, silver, and all other forms of jewelry. 

            Walking inside, the noise increased tenfold, and it felt as if I had gone into a dragon’s lair.  The walkway was on an incline creating an even larger, grander appearance.  The white dome took on a cream color from the yellow fluorescent lights shining from all angles, giving everything a golden shine, making it seem even more magical.  It was as if it came out of a fantasy novel written by Neil Gaiman, J. K. Rowling, and Terry Pratchett.  I felt like a child again; all that was missing were the flying toy, the goblins, and the elves.

            All of us were excited as if we had found some secret treasure that had been hoarded away.  We split off in search of them and find them we did.  We spent hours weaving in and out of many “underground” passageways, through hawkers and patrons alike, in search of our special find. 

We followed the sign that took us to the old part of the bazaar where we fiercely haggled with a shopkeeper for my friend’s soon-to-be-new shirt.  We explored all over, getting amazingly lost along the way.  My small party of adventurers found “junk street” in the midst of our perilous quest.  And, oh, what treasure there was!  Two hideously beautiful belts that jingled with every step were my booty. 

Finally it was time to leave, to get home and go to bed. It was, after all, seven and dinner still to buy.  We left our shimmering world of gold and silver, of shirts, hats, and boots.  We had our treasures and left with happy thoughts.  How could you not, when there had been everything under the sun, except for flying ships (I looked, I swear!)?  You can’t help but feel as though you were swept into another world, and if you couldn’t find what you were looking for there will always be a next time.  Who knows, there may be flying ships. Maybe I just missed them.

Taren Manley
last updated 24 October 2008