When I actually stepped up and ask in my limited Turkish "Bir kilo lutfen" (one kilo please) he quickly threw a few bunches in a bag, weighed them and collected his lira. At home however, the grapes didn't seem nearly so big or so plump. I had a flashback of sorts where I remembered everyone else picking out their own grapes and now I realized why. I had unwittingly let him give me the scrawny leftovers! (FYI Ladan washes these street grapes with a vegetable wash that smells like it could take the paint off of cars.)
On day 2, (yes we ate 2 lbs. of grapes in a day) when he reached for the little loser grapes I had my big bunch of display-worthy grapes already in hand. Step 2, choosing the best grapes, seemed an almost audacious step in the right direction and I'll admit I felt a slight thrill that I had graduated to the ranks of folks who bought the fat display grapes. When I got home however, it still seemed like about a third of the grapes were small overripe strays. Dang.
Business was slow on day 3 and he showed me a copy of a Che Guevara biography that he was reading. "You know Che?" he asked, "Che good man." I tell myself to ignore the revolutionary undercurrent and just focus on improving my third grape purchase. This time when we got to Step 3, making an even kilo, I had a second bunch of display grapes ready and started to break off a clump. "On no you don't" (or something worse) he says in Turkish. "Che good man" I say but it doesn't seem to move him. Breaking up the display grape bunches was clearly a no-go and the thrill of Day 2 is long gone. I'm in no mood to have him top off a kilo with grapes that can't survive Ladan's scouring process so I agree to two big bunches of grapes or about three pounds. Even our family can't put away three pounds of grapes in a day but I wasn't about to go backwards. I overbought and then overpaid further because no one in this city seems to have any change, at least for me.
I leave the apartment on a mission on Day 4 with exactly 3.5 lira in my pocket and can hardly wait for class to end. This time when it comes to Step 4 in the dance, payment for the two big fat bunches I have chosen, I slowly hold out my palm with three and a half lira. He says no, he needs 4 but when I pull out my pockets and show him I have no more coins he lets out a big laugh and shakes my hand vigorously. Have I passed a test? The Che test? Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure there is some mutual respect happening between us. I have made a nearly perfect grape purchase, in front of my mother-in-law no less, and imagine that I understand some of the nuances of the bazaar.
Day 5: My new buddy Che is nowhere to be found (and we have quite a backlog of grapes).
Business was slow on day 3 and he showed me a copy of a Che Guevara biography that he was reading. "You know Che?" he asked, "Che good man." I tell myself to ignore the revolutionary undercurrent and just focus on improving my third grape purchase. This time when we got to Step 3, making an even kilo, I had a second bunch of display grapes ready and started to break off a clump. "On no you don't" (or something worse) he says in Turkish. "Che good man" I say but it doesn't seem to move him. Breaking up the display grape bunches was clearly a no-go and the thrill of Day 2 is long gone. I'm in no mood to have him top off a kilo with grapes that can't survive Ladan's scouring process so I agree to two big bunches of grapes or about three pounds. Even our family can't put away three pounds of grapes in a day but I wasn't about to go backwards. I overbought and then overpaid further because no one in this city seems to have any change, at least for me.
I leave the apartment on a mission on Day 4 with exactly 3.5 lira in my pocket and can hardly wait for class to end. This time when it comes to Step 4 in the dance, payment for the two big fat bunches I have chosen, I slowly hold out my palm with three and a half lira. He says no, he needs 4 but when I pull out my pockets and show him I have no more coins he lets out a big laugh and shakes my hand vigorously. Have I passed a test? The Che test? Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure there is some mutual respect happening between us. I have made a nearly perfect grape purchase, in front of my mother-in-law no less, and imagine that I understand some of the nuances of the bazaar.
Day 5: My new buddy Che is nowhere to be found (and we have quite a backlog of grapes).
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