So I'm walking around the Spice Bazaar and I was approached by several different vendors wondering where I am from. Sometimes they think I'm a Turk and dive right into a whirlwind of Turkish which, if I'm lucky, I can catch half a dozen words out of. Most of which have no relevance to each other, and I'm left with a look on my face somewhere between "efendim (huh?)" and bursting out laughing. This typically turns into an awkward chuckle and a guessing game at where I'm from.
I love being mistaken for European ; it happens all the time here and I attribute it to my lovely poise and grace. Or the Pashminas I've been buying left and right.
Yesterday, while walking past a spice seller, he called out after me, "Bonjour." I looked at him, didn't say anything and kept walking. "Hola," he called out, trying another language. "Allo?"
Still I said nothing. "Which one?" he asked, meaning "Which language, you beautiful lady, shall I speak to you in?"
"Merhaba," I replied with a smile.
His eyes widened and he turned away. "Vay bey!" he said, which roughly translates to, "Oh my god!"
Another spice merchant went through German, Dutch, and Spanish before I told him I was American. For some reason, he raised his eyebrows.
But I can understand why. American tourists are some of the worst-dressed tourists in the world. Seriously, we could win prizes. Americans are the people you see wearing white tube socks pulled up to their knees, flip flops, khaki shorts, a t-shirt, a nylon fanny pack and sun visor while holding an ice cream cone and trying to unravel a behemoth map of Istanbul while they say loudly to their spouses, "It says here the big red building used to be a mosque AND a church!" (cringe)
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