Two Weeks in Turkey (part two)
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- Gevrekci stand in Izmir, Turkey
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- Clock Tower in Izmir
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- Konak Yali Mosque in Izmir, Turkey
Do you like bread? I do too. When I travel internationally, I always check out the bread. One of the breads that I discovered on my recent visit to Turkey is called Gevrekci. It is basically a ring of bread covered in sesame seeds. One of the unique things about this particular bread is that it is sold by street vendors all over Izmir and typically enjoyed in the morning.
On my last day in Turkey, I decided to explore Izmir’s Kemeralti Bazaar. Kemeralti is Izmir’s tiny version of Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar. Although tiny in relation to The Grand Bazaar, this maze of shops and wandering vendors can become a labrynth in which you lose your bearings. On a mission to find a scarf for my sister, I decided to explore the bazaar. Since I would be flying back to the States via Istanbul early the following morning I decided to leave all important documents and valuables in the hotel safe and headed out armed with just my camera and a pair of sunglasses.
Along the 15-minute route from my hotel to the bazaar, I snapped photos of some of the city’s landmark’s: The Konak Yali Mosque, The landmark clock tower of Izmir, and a Gevrekci stand. I had been capturing shots of the various street vendors throughout the city whenever I had an opportunity and found the perfect shot of one of the omnipresent bread stands. I snapped the photo, put my camera back into my pocket, took a few steps, and was abruptly flanked by two men who started asking me where I was from in Turkish-accented English. Having been primed by my Turkish colleagues the night before, I replied that I was from France, complete with French accent. My friends in Izmir suggested that I may have a more enjoyable time at the bazaar if I were to pass as a European, partly since few Turks speak French so it would be easy to extricate myself from a conversation in which a pushy vendor might be trying to unload unwanted wares on me. It became quickly evident that this was a bad time to be pretending anything…the two men immediately produced police badges and began asking for my passport. Of course, my passport was (foolishly) safely tucked in the hotel room safe. After a few more minutes of questioning I was quickly ushered into a police car that had quietly appeared behind me. Now I was scared. Not understanding WHY I was being asked to get into the car, I was reluctant to do so. The alternative of dodging the two armed men in the midst of the bazaar was no more appealing, so in I went.
The two men (different from the two original ones who stopped me on the street) asked me where I was from. I decided this was no time for stories, so I said “The United States”. They also asked for my passport, which I couldn’t produce. They then wanted to know what my problem was. I explained that I had been taking pictures when I was stopped by the other two guys. Then the car started to move. We were now driving into the bazaar. The car was moving at a snail’s pace surrounded by throngs of people. We had driven too far, but had made several turns, before the car came to a stop and I was invited to exit the vehicle. I was greeted by the two original guys who were then joined by the two drivers and a fifth man who formed a circle around me. As they all spoke in rapid Turkish to one another I discerned that we were at least standing in front of a police station and not some unmarked hole-in-the-wall building in which I would disappear forever. This did little to calm my nerves though since I still didn’t understand why I was suddenly the subject of a police interrogation.
Now it became clear that they were all interested in the photos that I had been taking. So I produced the camera and began scrolling through the images. They kept going back to the shot of the bread guy. I found it so strange. Then they started asking me questions about whether I’d heard about the most recent bombing in Istanbul. Of course I had; I was just in Istanbul a few days prior to judge a cake contest. This did not help my case. Now the questions about why I had photographed this particular bread stand became more insistent. They pointed out a man in the background who turned out to be an Interpol agent. They mistakenly believed that he was the subject of my photo and that I was making him (and the landmarks I had photographed) the target of another bomb attack! Me! A cake designer from Chicago. I think by this time I looked so panicked that they realized that there was no way I could be involved in something like this. So, after 20 minutes of questioning, I was released. With the instruction to be careful of whom I photographed while in Turkey. Suffice it to say that the gevrekci photo you are looking at now represents the last photo I shot on this trip.
On this visit to the bazaar I was reminded of an important travel tip: always carry your passport. Had I had it, this entire episode may have been cut short. My visit to Kemeralti will be burned in my mind…forever.