Eyes wide and camera ready, I walk around one of Istanbul’s most magnificent tourist meccas: the Grand Bazaar. I haven’t taken twenty steps before a young, eager merchant springs out of his chair and into my face.

“Where are you from? Paradise? It must be; you are angel,” he coos, “Come, I give you good price!”

Righhht.

Let me translate that for you. It’s easy, really- just substitute “paradise” with ‘”America”, “angel” with “tourist” and “good” with “extra expensive” and you’ve decoded this charming young merchant’s message.

Make no mistake, sellers at the Grand Bazaar will know you’re a tourist and they won’t hesitate to capitalize on your bewilderment. The key to surviving in this haggling haven is simple: do your research.

Kathy Hamilton, an American textile collector living in Istanbul who leads guided tours through the bazaar, is an expert bargainer. She gave me some helpful tips before turning me loose into the chaos. Now, drawing from Kathy’s advice and my personal hassles, I’ve compiled a my own guide to help future bazaar goers. 

Lesson 1: Never, ever pay full price

Most things sold in the bazaar don’t even have price tags. You simply ask how much, they tell you a price and you (always) refuse it. A few exceptions exist; for example, Kathy mentioned that good Turkish towel merchants should always have prices posted. She added that any fixed Turkish towel prices are fair and won’t require any haggling.

Kathy also said that it’s important to keep your bargaining playful. When they give you a price, simply roll your eyes, give a guffaw and say something along the lines of “Oh come on! Twenty-five lira, for this?!”

Lesson 2: It’s not about the Benjamin’s

Carry small bills. This may seem obvious, but it is so important.

I learned this the hard way.

I made certain to bring only small bills, no larger than twenty TL (Turkish Lira). The rest of my money – two fifty TL bills – I hid away in my purse; in fact, I would only keep about 10 TL  visible at a time. The rest was zipped up in a secret compartment. That way, I could work the “But I only have 10 Lira! See!” routine and would usually walk away with a good bargain.

However, when I stumbled upon an Ikat silk wholesaler, I broke into my reserve money without hesitation; my fifties didn’t stand a chance against the beautiful fabric. When it came time to pay, I confirmed the price- three times.

“You said 10 lira for this meter and 9 lira for this, so that makes 19 lira, correct? I am paying you 19 lira?”

“Yes, yes! 19, of course!”

But, as soon as I flashed my fifty, I knew it was over. His eyes grew wide, his breath paused and after an awkward silence he finally said, “Ok, but you know I meant 19 dollar, not lira. So it’s about 40 lira altogether. I give dollar prices to Americans.”

Ah. So I wouldn’t get my beloved Ikat after all.

Lesson 3: The cashmere fabrication

The “100% cashmere” label looks so convincing and it feels so delightfully soft, but believe me, the scarves here are not real cashmere.

“I can take you to the place where they actually sell the labels. It’s right up the street,” said Kathy, adding that you’ll see the fake stickers glued, not even sewn, onto the scarf.

Almost none of the scarves at the market are what they claim to be, according to Kathy. Rather, most are made from viscose, a soft but cheap version of the coveted cashmere.

Tapestries, pillowcases and towels are also victims of fabric faking. Watch out for “Handmade silk pillow case!” and supposed cotton Turkish towels. Unlike scarves, not all tapestries and towels are fakes. Often, the merchants will burn a bit of the fabric to prove that something is real silk and not synthetic.

Lesson 4: Just walk away

Whenever a merchant gives his “final offer”, it’s usually not that final.

After haggling, admittedly very clumsily, with a merchant for nearly ten minutes, I finally walked away; his embroidered pillowcases were beautiful, but not worth 45 TL (which was a sharp decrease from the 70 TL he originally wanted).

So I left. But a few minutes later, when I walked back by in the other direction, he stopped me.

“Okay, okay! Fine. I’ll give you both for 40 TL.”

Apparently I had done something right. I realized that I by walking away, I had lowered the price, so I decided to press my luck and refused his new offer. It worked and 10 minutes later, I was paying 35 TL for my two pillowcases.

Lesson 5: Just remember, “Tourist değilim!”

Or, translated to English, “I’m not a tourist!”

Pretending to be a local is tough to pull off, and to be honest, I failed miserably at doing it. Maybe it was my incessant picture taking that gave me away or maybe it was the fact that I couldn’t even pronounce “Tourist değilim!” correctly; whatever the evidence was, it made my foreignness hilariously obvious.

Kathy said that merchants often have ‘special’ prices for tourists because they know people from abroad will be one-time shoppers, so to speak. People who actually live in Istanbul and frequent the market will find stores they like and develop relationships with sellers; because they are loyal customers, they get better prices.

If you really want to use the “I’m not a Tourist!” line, you can try, like I did, saying that you are an American teacher living in Istanbul. Just remember the name of the “school” you teach at; I thought I had convinced one man of my residency until I said, ‘”I teach at Robert Downy High School” when I meant Robert College.

Whoops!

Lesson 6: Buyer’s remorse? Never!

You aren’t always going to get the best deal, but there is little use in fretting about it. After assessing my purchases, Kathy made a good point.

“You may not have gotten the best deal, but at the end of the day, it’s still cheap.”