[EXPAT VOICE] A tale of two men

Without anyone from İstanbul to guide me this time, I found myself alone amidst a sea of tourists (I admit that I am one myself) and salesmen, primarily carpet dealers who often also conveniently own a leather shop. Decked out in a khaki photographer's vest, Disney polo and camcorder, I certainly fit the tourist look -- a look carpet dealers were attracted to like bees to honey. Here, I encountered one of the most unsavory Turks and one of the most generous within the same couple of hours.

The square was already bustling with visitors rushing between the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sofia by the early afternoon when I made my way to the Blue Mosque. Out of nowhere, a stout Turkish man, roughly in his mid-30s, approached me.

"Hello sir! Hello. Where are you from?" said the mysterious man. Two hours alone in Sultanahmet already had taught me this man was likely selling carpets or leather, probably both. Feeling generous, a feeling I quickly lost, and in the interest of practicing Turkish, I let this go on. I have since marked this my worst decision in Turkey.

For a short time, we made small talk about where I was from and what I did. I spoke Turkish while he, getting more impatient by the second, spoke in English. Finally, I asked in Turkish what he did. He looked sheepish, seemingly offended that I asked, even though I believe he knew exactly what he was doing. He explained that he had both a carpet and a leather shop, and it was at that point I made my half-hearted attempt to get out. I quickly replied, "No thanks," several times, but he was not going to let me leave so easily.

I explained time was short, I was in a rush to see the Blue Mosque. But he said: "No, no, you can't go now. It's prayer time," even though I knew that the prayer was almost over. "Come to my shop and have some tea." I made it clear that I had no interest in buying, telling him that there was no price to make me buy today. "This isn't like America," he said: "It's not buy or no buy. Just come in and have some tea. It's hospitality, Turkish hospitality." It's true that many Turks consider hospitality to guests a high virtue. Unfortunately, this hawker was not one of them.

Next, I made my second worst decision, which was to agree to visit the shop. I believed he was genuine and decided to check out the prices for my mother overseas. After following him away from the Blue Mosque, we suddenly veered off and entered a dimly lit hallway, headed to the second floor of one of the old city's tightly packed buildings. Meanwhile, he explained his business was "family run for 35 years."

Three small, but well-lit rooms made up the shop. Nearly every square inch of wall was covered in leather jackets or bags. There must have been hundreds of jackets and bags. I was inside for seconds before his cousin came over, pulled a jacket off the rack without me even asking and brought it above my shoulders as if I would immediately want to slide it on.

After "trying on" the jacket, I quickly sat down and made it clear I wasn't buying. But the barrage of offers continued: "200 euros for this jacket at any other shop, but here, for you, $130! Make me an offer, please!" I continued to resist their efforts of goading me into making an offer. I continued to check prices of bags, while this aggressive trader tried to "shock me" with supposed low, low prices. But when he spilled water on the case of my hi-definition camera, while showing me that the leather bags were waterproof, I had enough. I got up from the chair in a big huff (it's best to use body language when your linguistic skills are limited), thanked him for the tea and began to make my way to the door.

Before I took a single step, he looked me in the eye and spoke in Turkish for the first time, "Twenty-eight?" I replied in kind, "Twenty-eight what?" "Tip," he said. At this suggestion, I almost lost it. I brought up his remarks of hospitality on the way over, and he just stared. I pulled out 5 lira, hoping to speed up my departure. As I opened my wallet, I couldn't believe to hear him ask, "Ten?" I threw the money on the table and left bitterly. Later, I learned I should have left period, but I was happy to be out of there.

Afterwards, I dragged my feet up back toward the Blue Mosque. While gazing at two of the most revered houses of worship in the world, I was angry to have found such greed. For the next two hours, I moped around the Blue Mosque in doubt of the famous Turkish hospitality.

Things took a turn when I decided to visit the carpet museum alongside the Blue Mosque. I approached the mosque's groundskeeper's house and peeked my head in. In Turkish, I asked if anyone knew how to enter the carpet museum.

A young Turkish man, not much older than myself, warmly greeted me from the back room. Having spent a year in Virginia, he spoke English. He explained the museum was closed, and again I felt my luck playing against me. I asked if he could recommend any good restaurants, and he immediately asked: "Are you hungry? Would you like to eat with me?" At this point, I was still uncomfortable accepting such offers, particularly from complete strangers. A friend from my university said later that 90 percent of the time, these offers are genuine, and you just have to avoid the other 10.

After accepting, İbrahim motioned me to the grass in between the house and the mosque. It was another bright and beautiful summer day in İstanbul as I waited for him. In what seemed like only minutes, İbrahim came out with fresh bread and a delicious vegetable stew. It was a welcome fix after the rough day.

I found myself de-stressing while exchanging stories about the US and Turkey with İbrahim. He was a student from Cyprus visiting his friend at the mosque. However, he was not having the best day either as he ended up sitting by himself while his friend busied himself with work.

Where the morning merchant always had an angle, İbrahim was the opposite. He was soft-spoken and had no other motives beyond getting to know a new friend. İbrahim asked me for absolutely nothing, except that if I made my way to Cyprus, to call him so he could show me around his university (and offer me a place to stay). We finished our time together touring the Blue Mosque. I told İbrahim I had wanted to film the Blue Mosque for my blog on Turkish culture, but the area restricted to tourists was incredibly cramped and I had no place to think, never mind capture footage. İbrahim was delighted to bring me in and give me a Turk's view of the impressive space.

Besides learning you should only enter carpet and leather shops on your terms, the day reminded me that, like in the United States, you can find good and bad people everywhere. Yes, Turkey is infamous for treating visitors and guests extremely well. But it doesn't mean Turkey is free from scam artists and other rotten apples. Rather, sometimes Turkey's traditional hospitality can make it harder to read those who are playing you. But still, for every Turk I've encountered like the trader, I've met 10 İbrahims.