Again she turns a corner. Evidently she has lost her way, for she stands and looks about in all directions. She has now come to a passage where water-pipes and all articles connected with smoking are sold. Then she turns in another direction. An odour tells her a long distance off that she is coming to the street of spice-dealers. She has to ask her way almost at every step.
Not only in Constantinople but in all parts of the Turkish Empire, and all over the Mohammedan world, goods are bought and sold in these half-dark tunnels which are called bazaars. It is the same in the Mohammedan towns of North Africa, in Arabia, Asia Minor, Persia, Caucasia, Afghanistan, India, and Turkestan. Wherever minarets rise above the dwellings of men and the muezzin sings out his everlasting "There is no god but God," the exchange of wares and coin is carried on in dark bazaars. The great bazaar in Stambul is one of the richest, but even where the bazaars are small and insignificant the same order prevails, the same mode of life. Among Turkish men and women of high rank stroll poor ragamuffins and dervishes or begging monks. A caravan of camels moves slowly through the crowd, bringing fresh supplies to the tradesmen from a steamboat quay or from the railway station. The camels have scarcely disappeared in the darkness before a train of mules with heavy bales follows in their track. A loud-voiced man offers for sale grapes and melons he carries in a basket, while another bears a water-bottle of leather.
And all the races which swarm here! The great majority are, of course, Turks, but we also see whole rows of shops where only Persians trade. We see Hindus from India, Egyptians from Cairo, Arabs from the coasts of the Red Sea, Circassians and Tatars from the Caucasus and the Crimea, Sarts from Samarkand and Bokhara, Armenians, Jews, and Greeks, and not infrequently we meet a negro from Zanzibar or a Chinaman from the farthest East.
It is a confusion of shopmen and customers, brokers and thieves from all the East. A noise and bustle, a deafening roar which never ceases all day long, a hurrying, a striving and eagerness to clear the stock and gain money. If the prices were fixed, business would soon be done. But if you have taken a fancy to a Kurdish mat and ask the price, the tradesman demands a quite absurd sum. You shrug your shoulders and go your way. He calls out another, lower price. You go on quietly, and the man comes running after you and has dropped his price to the lowest. In every shop bargains are made vociferously in the same way. There is a continual buzz of voices, now and then interrupted by the bells of caravans.
The illumination is dim. The noonday sun penetrates only through openings in the vault and forms patches of light. Dust floats about in the shafts of light, mixed with smoke from water-pipes. The greater the distance the dimmer this confined air appears. There is also an indescribable odour. The smell of men and animals, of dusty goods, of rank tobacco, of rotting refuse, strong spices, fresh, juicy fruit—all mixed together into a peculiar odour which is characteristic of all Oriental bazaars.
The bazaar of Stambul contains a great deal besides. On the northern side is a line of old caravanserais, massive stone buildings of several storeys, with galleries, passages, and rooms, and with a large open court in the centre. Here resort the wholesale merchants, and here are their warehouses and stocks. Lastly, cafés and eating-houses are found in the tunnelled streets, baths and small oratories, so that a man can pass his whole day in the bazaar without needing to go home. He can obtain all he wants in the vicinity of his shop.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] "Pasha" is an honorary title given to officials of high rank in Turkey and Egypt, as to governors of provinces, military commanders, etc.
[2] A garment worn throughout the Levant, consisting of a long gown fastened by a girdle and having sleeves reaching below the hands.
[3] A "droshky" is a low, four-wheeled, open carriage, plying for hire. The word is Russian.