Take a stroll down Yerebatan Street after a morning in the Basilica Cisterns, and you can’t not bump into the Alfred Jingle of today. I make a reference to Jingle because this character reminded me so much of Dickens’ charlatan, with his airs and staccato speech (ok, considering English is not his native tongue).
Not in a Victorian frock coat, but in a pair of dusty brogues and artfully well-worn jeans...in his early-40's...his grimy pastel sweater over a shirt, chin up and thrust out, hands stuck into his pockets, eyes closed into slits, lips thinly pursed, sizing up his next victims from under a lock of dyed auburn hair and down his aquiline nose. In other circumstances, I would have felt sorry for him for the hard times that might've brought on this kind of attitude...but I learnt that any sympathies I might have felt were highly misplaced.
You will find this singular individual pacing up and down the front of his corner shop, luring unsuspecting tourists, with a flourish, to taste the delights of his Mavi Café.
Sit down in one of his several rickety chair just inches off the curb’s edge on a busy street, and you’ll have a laminated menu waved in your face. Before you can get a hold of your bearings, you will have heard the usual round of compliments from this slick customer, and your lunch will be decided for you even as you are left dazed with an, “Er…yes...What does this mean?...Oh…I mean, no…Umm…Yes…Maybe…Ok, alright (!)”
 |
| Mavi Cafe, from the curb where we sat |
Prepare to be bombarded non-stop by his prattling on about the dishes he will conjure, the weather, the neighborhood cats and their pregnancies, their offspring, his offspring, his brother in Tokyo, his Japanese sister-in-law, the traffic (whizzing by inches away from your shoulders), the number of languages he knows, his antecedents, his skills, and if other customers have not fallen prey to his lures, no doubt one would be suitably entertained with his full attentions throughout the meal.
Frankly, although it seems acceptable in Turkey, I am absolutely NOT ok with male strangers chucking my sons' chins, or ruffling their hair...much less pinching their cheeks. Just one touch and I go from agreeable mom to wound-up gorgon, dark thoughts flickering across my face. I'm sure you can imagine my expression as I sat there, waving flies off us, silently conveying my disapproval of the surroundings and of the proprietor’s familiar behavior to my husband in an unmistakable glance, and fought off stray cats attempting to climb into all of our laps. Let's just say, not the best scenario for lunch.
Alfred Jingle characteristically set the tone by taking his time to slide - surprise, surprise - a few stray pieces of roast eggplant, a Turkish version of a sambal dip, some slices of cucumber and tomato, and a yogurt-coriander sauce, all served in palm-sized blue plastic saucers, onto our wooden slatted table. All this accompanied by self-praise about the gourmet degustation that would begin – with the appropriately gourmet-sized portions he’d laid before his customers…never mind if they were a family of 4 hungry tourists.
Frankly, although it seems acceptable in Turkey, I am absolutely NOT ok with male strangers chucking my sons' chins, or ruffling their hair...much less pinching their cheeks. Just one touch and I go from agreeable mom to wound-up gorgon, dark thoughts flickering across my face. I'm sure you can imagine my expression as I sat there, waving flies off us, silently conveying my disapproval of the surroundings and of the proprietor’s familiar behavior to my husband in an unmistakable glance, and fought off stray cats attempting to climb into all of our laps. Let's just say, not the best scenario for lunch.
Alfred Jingle characteristically set the tone by taking his time to slide - surprise, surprise - a few stray pieces of roast eggplant, a Turkish version of a sambal dip, some slices of cucumber and tomato, and a yogurt-coriander sauce, all served in palm-sized blue plastic saucers, onto our wooden slatted table. All this accompanied by self-praise about the gourmet degustation that would begin – with the appropriately gourmet-sized portions he’d laid before his customers…never mind if they were a family of 4 hungry tourists.
While we simultaneously flicked off flies and cats, and fed our children our portions as well, Jingle produced yesterday’s pilaf and old chicken shawarma, on more palm-sized blue plastic saucers. 9 times out of 10, chances are that most parents in our positions will eat the stuff because the kids are tired, and we don’t think we could walk another step carrying them to the next café.
In other words, a perfect universe for scamming customers whom Jingle betted on never seeing again. Therefore, his 75 Lira (US$41) bill was to be expected, I guess...only, it took us a while to recover from the amount.
In other words, a perfect universe for scamming customers whom Jingle betted on never seeing again. Therefore, his 75 Lira (US$41) bill was to be expected, I guess...only, it took us a while to recover from the amount.
Of course, me being me, I couldn't make an exit without having a word with him – not that it mattered to him…but it sure put an eaves-dropping German and his wife on guard. To be fair to Istanbul, 99% of cafés, restaurants, and food courts were par excellence and very reasonably priced. A meal for 2 adults and 2 children (<10 years) only cost between 30 and 50 Lira (US$16 - 30), tips included, and the portions were generous. Jingle, therefore, stood out all the more because of his exceptional conduct.
We did chance upon a very welcoming place just down the road, opposite the entrance to Gulhane Park. Don’t recall the name but do check out the Adana kebab there – it’s juicy, just rightly spiced, rolled with crunchy fresh green peppers, and more than enough for one person. The service is so-so, but your ears will be spared any distracting or boring lectures.
Just that, and the good fare are reason enough a generous tip, I would think, with gratitude.
No comments:
Post a Comment