Traveling is not for the faint of heart. It’s not easy and it sure as shit is not as glamorous as the internet makes it out to be. Sure, some of it is sipping cocktails on the beach or taking Instagram-worthy photos in an umbrella-filled alleyway. It’s also missed flights, lost baggage, and getting lost with a phone that’s about to die. International travel in itself is a whole other ballgame. It’s a way to purposely get out of your comfort zone and experience other cultures. However, you may bite off more than you can chew if you choose not to do any research prior to your trip. I learned this the hard way.
My mom and I booked a group trip around Türkiye in the winter. At the beginning of our trip, we spent a few days exploring the main attractions of Istanbul. I had no real desire to spend much time (or money) at the Grand Bazaar since I had 5 more months of travel after my mom and I parted ways. Instead, we decided to wander around the neighborhood and see if we came upon anything interesting. After about a half hour or so, I was hungry and ready to get back to the hotel.
In lieu of taking a cab, we decided to figure out the public transportation system. We received information from our tour guide on where to pick up the subway that would take us near our hotel. As we looked for the station, a man on the side of the road asked if we needed assistance. He was pleasant and seemed harmless and if you know anything about my mom, she will never pass up a conversation with someone. I was trying not to make too much eye contact and had quick responses in an attempt for him to take the hint that we were ready to get back to our hotel. I guess subtly is easier to pull off in America.
Despite my wishes, we were soon following this man to his store so we could get information about the local tours that he offered. He escorted us into a building that was stacked wall to wall with luxury items. I was nearly blinded by the sparkle from the fine jewelry that covered the lower floor. The store owner walked us up a small flight of stairs, past some leather goods, and into an elevator. I couldn’t help but catch the inquisitive glances from the store employees we passed. Once in the elevator, my heart dropped. “This is it,” I thought. I wasn’t leaving this store willingly.
Once we were on the 3rd floor, I was surrounded by wall-to-wall carpets. For a moment, I thought my mom and I would be able to take a quick look around the store before saying goodbye and politely leaving without making a purchase. I soon realized that this was not going to happen, and I was surely not going to be eating lunch anytime soon. The store owner led us into a display room will low ceilings and floor-to-ceiling wood. We sat on the benches that were built into the wall while the owner mumbled a command to the very large Turkish men in the corner. Soon, the doors were closing behind us and I was ready to accept my fate.
He went into full sales mode as he explained the process of making these carpets, as well as educating us on the different kinds that were available for sale. The comment about the government being involved in his sales only made me more skeptical. Every few moments, he would have one of his burly non-English-speaking men roll out one of these massive carpets in front of my mom and me. We were encouraged to touch these and see how high-quality they were. I have to admit that these were absolutely stunning. Previously, I had never given two shits about a rug but there was definitely a reason why these were so famous in this country. I continued to try to be polite while secretly using my colorful raincoat to wipe the sweat off of my face. I was trying not to show my nervousness, especially since my mom was cool as a cucumber. She seemed completely unbothered by the situation and continued to comment on how great these were. If she was pretending to be interested, she deserved a fucking Oscar for that performance.
When another man brought in a tray of hot apple tea and water, I was convinced that we were being drugged. I took a sip since I didn’t want to be rude or come off that I was suspicious. Plus, the tea smelled intoxicating after walking around in the cold with a thin raincoat and no gloves. I could barely pour the tea into my glass because I was shaking so much. I kept a smile on my face, still convinced that we were going to go missing once they finished rolling out these carpets. As we sipped our beverages, my mom continued to thank the store owner for giving us a private show and politely declined to buy anything.
For what felt like another hour, we continued to let the store owner know that we were not looking to make a purchase quite that large. While $3,000 USD was probably a steal for a rug this amazing (with shipping and tax), it was not something that we could afford. You would think that we were wearing brand-name clothing and diamond jewelry with how we were treated. I genuinely feel that because we were white women, we were assumed to have money. I didn't know a polite way to say we were poor, and that it took over a year for us to save for this trip. I wasn’t continuing this sabbatical in and out of hostels for 5 months for the hell of it.
Eventually, the store owner decided to take the hint. He handed us his business card and we confirmed that we would stop back in after our group tour had finished (yeah right). To my surprise, they opened up the doors and pointed us in the direction of the exit. We decided to skip the elevator and quickly take the stairs back down to the lower floor filled with luxury jewelry. I genuinely wanted to kiss the concrete when the door of the three-story building closed behind us. I wasn't sure what was said or what we did, but I was thankful that I was willingly allowed to leave the insanely uncomfortable experience behind us.
My mom and I still had to figure out where the station was so we could get to our hotel. It didn't take her long to pick up on my level of anxiety so she asked what was wrong. I looked at her with a face of bewilderment and questioned why she wasn't nervous or uncomfortable at that moment. She chuckled at me and brushed it off like we weren’t about to have our own “Taken” situation on our hands. I chalked it up to her previous law-enforcement background and continued walking. I was so stressed at that point that I no longer wanted to be in public. The thought of going somewhere to break a bill for change for the subway was sending me into a spiral. I was nearly begging her to take a cab so we could get to our hotel as quickly as possible.
Once we were back and I had some food in my system, I decided to do some research on rug stores and of course, trafficking in Türkiye. I was immediately humbled when I realized that our experience was very common. In an attempt to get more sales, store owners will get people from the street and bring them inside instead of waiting for them to come in themselves. This is especially the case when the stores are located higher than the ground floor. In almost any situation, it is customary for Turkish people to offer tea as they are notorious for being some of the best hosts in the world. I finally accepted that our apple tea was merely delicious and not drugged with sedatives.
While this story is quite entertaining nearly a year later, it was certainly a traumatic experience for me. Something very common seemed much more sinister (in the moment) due to a lack of research and overall knowledge about Türkiye. While I love exploring as I go and have a few expectations for places, I now know it is essential to know a few basic tips and common customs for each place I visit. The moral of the story is to always do your pre-travel homework and don’t forget to eat dessert first.