05-27-2012, 04:07 PM
In 2005, the Queen and I sailed the Meditteranean on a Princess Cruise, could be the best trip ever.
We stopped in Istanbul and saw the sights from Topkapi Palace to the fabled Turkish Bazaar. I usually don't buy souveneirs on these excursions, relying on my photo and video skills to keep me connected to the places I visit rather than knick-knacks. If you've been to my parents house you would understand my aversion to the dreaded chotchkey. But for some inexplicable reason I decided I needed a Turkish carpet from Turkey. Especially if the price was right.
Well wouldn't you know it our excursion through Istanbul had a stop at a Turkish carpet emporium. The Carpet Purveyors brought the small tour group upstairs to a special display area where they could show us their wares. Think of it as a locked room where no one gets out until purchases are made. So, they gave us the spiel. They demonstrated the carpets. Some of them were quite beautiful. I made the mistake of asking the price on one of the wools ones. Yeah, I couldn't afford it. But my merest speculative interest caught the salesman's eye. Pretty soon the rest of the tour group had wandered off and it was just me, tQ, our tour guide, and the salesmen.
We went back and forth on the prices. They kept getting lower and lower. I tried switching up the game to see if I could escape. In the beginning our Tour Guide tried to help us by saying what a great deal I was making etc etc. But she became mute and would shrug when I asked for advice. Long story short, I ended up with two carpets. One is silk and the other is wool. But according the to the salesmen, I did save a small village of carpet makers by purchasing these carpets. I guess that softened the blow.
Well, that was the end of it. I learned my lesson. Never talk to a carpet salesman in Turkey. They are much too sharp for me.
Then I got a card from them for Christmas, thanking me for my purchase. How nice.
A couple months later I got a call from Turkey saying the Carpet Guys were going to be in town and would I like to come over to Beverly Hills to buy some carpets. What the hell? I politely declined. I have enough Turkish carpets to last me a lifetime. Maybe two. I was pretty excited though about the call from Turkey, though.
Until it happened the next year. I went through the same spiel. No, I didn't need carpets. They do this every year.
I guess last year they asked to come to the house. Just as friends. Say, Hi. See how my carpets were doing. I danced faster and blew them off.
They called again today. I have my very own carpet stalkers. They had notes about our last conversation which they read, saying I was going to see them this time.
In "The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo" American Version, Skarsgaard tells Craig that he gets to kill people because they are too polite to say no, even if all their internal senses are telling them it is too dangerous. People would rather die than be rude. Those words were ringing in my head.
I tried to brush him off. He said he would be in town next week. Oh, too bad. I was going to be gone. What days? Um err the 6th through the 12th. Great, I'll be in town on the 1st. Crap. What time should I come over. 11? See you then. Sigh.
His name is Mehmet. He is going to all this trouble because he knows I am a carpet lover.
We stopped in Istanbul and saw the sights from Topkapi Palace to the fabled Turkish Bazaar. I usually don't buy souveneirs on these excursions, relying on my photo and video skills to keep me connected to the places I visit rather than knick-knacks. If you've been to my parents house you would understand my aversion to the dreaded chotchkey. But for some inexplicable reason I decided I needed a Turkish carpet from Turkey. Especially if the price was right.
Well wouldn't you know it our excursion through Istanbul had a stop at a Turkish carpet emporium. The Carpet Purveyors brought the small tour group upstairs to a special display area where they could show us their wares. Think of it as a locked room where no one gets out until purchases are made. So, they gave us the spiel. They demonstrated the carpets. Some of them were quite beautiful. I made the mistake of asking the price on one of the wools ones. Yeah, I couldn't afford it. But my merest speculative interest caught the salesman's eye. Pretty soon the rest of the tour group had wandered off and it was just me, tQ, our tour guide, and the salesmen.
We went back and forth on the prices. They kept getting lower and lower. I tried switching up the game to see if I could escape. In the beginning our Tour Guide tried to help us by saying what a great deal I was making etc etc. But she became mute and would shrug when I asked for advice. Long story short, I ended up with two carpets. One is silk and the other is wool. But according the to the salesmen, I did save a small village of carpet makers by purchasing these carpets. I guess that softened the blow.
Well, that was the end of it. I learned my lesson. Never talk to a carpet salesman in Turkey. They are much too sharp for me.
Then I got a card from them for Christmas, thanking me for my purchase. How nice.
A couple months later I got a call from Turkey saying the Carpet Guys were going to be in town and would I like to come over to Beverly Hills to buy some carpets. What the hell? I politely declined. I have enough Turkish carpets to last me a lifetime. Maybe two. I was pretty excited though about the call from Turkey, though.
Until it happened the next year. I went through the same spiel. No, I didn't need carpets. They do this every year.
I guess last year they asked to come to the house. Just as friends. Say, Hi. See how my carpets were doing. I danced faster and blew them off.
They called again today. I have my very own carpet stalkers. They had notes about our last conversation which they read, saying I was going to see them this time.
In "The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo" American Version, Skarsgaard tells Craig that he gets to kill people because they are too polite to say no, even if all their internal senses are telling them it is too dangerous. People would rather die than be rude. Those words were ringing in my head.
I tried to brush him off. He said he would be in town next week. Oh, too bad. I was going to be gone. What days? Um err the 6th through the 12th. Great, I'll be in town on the 1st. Crap. What time should I come over. 11? See you then. Sigh.
His name is Mehmet. He is going to all this trouble because he knows I am a carpet lover.
So much for the flickr badge idea. Dammit
