[An American in Avcılar] Papa Gramaphone (II)

Even though Lauren had a determined itinerary, this was Rumen’s first trip to İstanbul, and there were things that I felt Rumen must see, so we tried to build a plan that would meet Lauren’s needs as well as introduce Rumen to the city. I knew that I would be busy at school for part of their visit and that they would have to fend for themselves, so, wanting to make sure they could navigate the city, I stuck to easily remembered transportation routes.

We took the Metrobüs to Zeytinburnu and then the tram to Beyazıt. I knew a man in the book bazaar who dealt with old manuscripts and who spoke great English. I thought he might give us some pointers, and I wanted to take Rumen to the Grand Bazaar located next to the book bazaar.

When we got to the man’s shop, it was open, but he was not there. We browsed through several shops, and Lauren found some antique bookstores where she queried the owners about places that might have old records.

As I waited for the man I had come to see, I noticed an engraving over the entryway to the bazaar: Sahaflar Carşısı. “Aha!” That was one of the names Lauren had been given -- we had stumbled onto one of the places that had been recommended to her.

The shop owner I was waiting for returned. He did not have any specific leads but suggested we look in the Tünel area; he said there were many music and musical instrument stores there. We thanked him, and Lauren continued to browse.

There was another shop owner in the Grand Bazaar who had been helpful to me in the past, and I wanted to check with him. I hoped his knowledge of the bazaar would give us some leads -- he had grown up in the bazaar as his shop had been in the family for four generations -- and anyway I wanted Rumen to browse inside the bazaar. We went inside, and Rumen was taken aback -- so many shops, so many people, so beautiful.

Wandering in the Grand Bazaar

We wandered a while, and I took them to Yasur’s shop. Yasur was not there, but his coworker recognized me and offered us apple tea. One does do some tea-drinking here. I looked through the wares [I had earlier bought earrings here as well as necklaces and bracelets as Christmas gifts -- I do like Yasur’s stuff -- he both designs and crafts the stuff] while Lauren wandered over to a gold shop. She was surprised to find 24-karat jewelry. In the US, most gold jewelry is 14, or maybe 18, carat -- hardly any has a higher gold content. Turkish gold thus has a much richer luster.

Soon Yasur returned, and we chatted a few minutes, and I told him about Lauren’s quest. Well, he did not have much information, but he thought he knew of someone who did, so with the three of us in tow, he headed off through the maze that is the bazaar. After a 30-minute walk into an obscure area -- I am not sure a tourist had every found herself there -- we came to a dusty shop. Music wafted out the door, and the show window, through its dust, showed gramophones and old Edison music players and posters from the 1930s and 1940s.

We had found “Papa Gramophone” -- yes, it said so in an old newspaper clipping framed and hung from the wall. Yasur explained our mission, and Lauren turned to Yasur and asked him to translate for her. “But he speaks English.” So Lauren turned to the man and asked, “Do you speak English?”

His eyes twinkled. “A little.” She replied “And how much is a little?”

“A little.” A grin tugged at his tobacco-stained lips under his white moustache. Lauren saw she was being toyed with, but began to speak with great articulation and at a slow pace. Almost immediately, the man moved into animated and colloquial English. His smile broadened, and Lauren smiled and relaxed. They began to talk old music.

Rumen, Yasur and I read the posters and clippings on the walls. Another man, a regular customer, joined the conversation frequently, but it was clear we were in the presence of a master. This fellow knew everything about 78 recordings, and he had an amazing collection of stuff in his tiny shop.

Alas! Nothing Bulgarian. He did recommend Tünel as a place to look as well as an area in Üsküdar. Lauren took notes, while the rest of us listened as we continued to browse through music our grandmothers knew.

Lauren asked the man about his favorites, and he started a spiel -- many of the people he mentioned did not ring a bell, but others were well-known classics. Unfortunately, when I mentioned Umm Khulthum, he did not seem impressed. We all have limits.

Before we left he asked if we wanted to hear something. Of course, we exclaimed. When he asked, “What?” We said, “Something you like.”

He searched through the drawers of his desk and brought out an old 78 in very good condition. He placed it on his gramophone, and soon the voice of Edith Piaf filled the air and stole our hearts anew.

We stayed with him for more than an hour, and he was charming, gracious, witty and delighted by our interests.

The Hagia Sophia

Finally, we tore ourselves away from the bazaar. I wanted Rumen to see Hagia Sophia if he saw nothing else. We went down to Sultanahmet and walked through the plaza. Our time was limited, so we only glanced at other treasures as we made our way to Aya Sofya.

Lauren said, “Oh, but I have seen it, I do not need to go in again.”

“Fiddlesticks!” I replied. “This building is always worth a revisit,” so she joined Rumen and me as we entered.

I was watching Rumen and Lauren. Rumen works at a museum in Haskovo and is no stranger to ancient treasures. But when we walked into the nave of the building, he froze to one spot, opened his mouth and stared upwards -- transfixed. He did not move for at least five minutes.

Lauren walked over to me and said, “And to think I almost did not come in.”

We spent a couple of hours in Hagia Sophia, then walked down past Gülhane to a tram stop and rode the tram to Karaköy, moving past the Yeni Camii, the Egyptian Bazaar, Eminönü and the Galata Bridge across the Golden Horn. Rumen continued agape and said he would have to return to see more of this golden city.

From Karaköy we took the Tünel tram, which is more than 100 years old and either the oldest or second oldest and either the shortest or second shortest subway in the world, I am told. At the Tünel terminus, I again went to a shopkeeper I knew and asked about where to look for old Bulgarian music and was again told that that was a hard thing to find.

We visited several shops that sold old instruments and old music and found much old Turkish, French and American music but nothing pertaining to Bulgaria. We were told by several people that we should look in some of the alleys near Galatasaray, so off we went. In the area were several stores that sold old books and old music [see last photo], but nothing Bulgarian.

We walked up to and through the Fish Passage. I showed Rumen and Lauren what I thought must be the ugliest edible fish in the world [the turbot]. The restaurant hawkers insisted that they were delicious, but they really do look like inflated flounders with leprosy. No thanks.

Lauren wanted some authentic Turkish food. I remembered Hacı Baba, which was the first place Necip and Banu took me to eat when I moved to İstanbul, so we walked up towards Taksim Meydanı to find it.

It was getting late, and we were all hungry, but the food revived us. Delicious. We ate on the second-storey balcony and planned for the next day. I would go to the university, and they would head for Üsküdar and Kadıköy.

We took the funicular to the tram in Kabataş and began our journey back to Avcılar.

This is the İstanbul that I love.