The Photography of Dr. Jeffrey P. Harper

Istanbul has lots of people, 14 million of them in Istanbul proper, with many million more in the adjacent suburbs and towns.  Everybody has to make a living one way or another.

14 million people means a lot of customers . . . customers for everything, like made-on-the-spot candy.

Street clam hawker.  It's a way to live.

There are literally millions of shopkeepers in Istanbul, but not all as friendly and positive as this spice shop worker.  A nice guy.

This tiny pastry shop was on the corner near our hotel.  We stopped there on our way back to our room every day . . . and the pastry guy remembered our favorite.

There is a row of men's clothing shops near the Egyptian Spice Market.  I bought three pairs of corduroy pants and a hat from this very helpful clothier.

We were told that there weren't many tourists, and those who were in Turkey weren't spending much.  What to do?  Enjoy each others' company in the Grand Bazaar.

The "staff" at the Grand Bazaar were all very hungry . . . for money.  I can't blame them, the overhead must be steep.  This Harim supply stall was vacant.  I guess the women's movement hasn't helped sales any.

We bought some scarves and a table cloth in The Grand Bazaar, but, sadly, not from this guy.

The curios hawkers weren't doing any better.  Time to play with the new stock.

A fellow browser in the Grand Bazaar.  O, what to buy?

The nut, dried fruit, and Turkish Delight vendors were doing alright. Imagine this is your place of employment . . . every day of your life!

This happy gentleman provided excellent service.  We bought nuts, stuffed figs, and spices from him at the Egyptian Spice market.

For some reason this Spice Market photo reminds me of Singapore, "You buy, or not?"

I spoke to the owner of this stall in the Egyptian Spice market . . . he said the exactitude of the spice display meant everything for sales.  He said his family had occupied this stall since 1660. 354 years of straightening spice piles.

The guy in the mirror followed us everywhere.

We walked everywhere from our Taksim Square location.  I enjoyed talking to the Turks and taking their photos, when allowed.

There were throngs of people on Istiklal Avenue, a main shopping street.  There were also a number of buskers and beggars too.

 Istiklal Avenue was a lively place full of warm humanity. A Turkish Huck Finn.

The Byzantines hired Viking mercenaries (a big mistake) . . . and it seems there are still a few around.  For a rough and tough Viking he is very careful with that cup of hot coffee.  NO, I can't explain it. Taken near Beyogiu.

This old fellow had seen his fair share of this and that.  Wonderful face.

Modern Turkish people, more or less.

We left on an election day . . . so the city was full of e electioneering posters and banners and flags.

Yesterday's politician.

We were going to see the Grand Palace, but the line was around the block.  Good thing too; we were able to spend the morning in the adjacent Guihane Park.  I saw this woman take this photo and went right over and took the same photo.

It was a beautiful day so there were many families in the park.

It was also a good day for a school trip to the park.  Sweet.

This neo-hippy street band was really good.  However, the guitar player became enraged that the old street person decided to join in on his penny whistle.  He got up and went over and confronted the old man.  A very violent scene  ensued with the hippie pushing the old man around while the crowd took sides.  It went from sweet odes to nature, to a classless demonstration of elitism.  Disappointing.

There were many street buskers around.  They were happy for me to take their photo once I had thrown some change in the case.

This man plays very sweetly.

I saw this young busker on several occasions, in different parts of town.

I gave her a good tip and she let me click away.

Not the best way to make a living in a big city.

There's that guy again.  Still following me.

We did not meet the complete cross section of Turkish society.  Mostly we met merchants and people engaged in food preparation and service . .  like this flatbread maker.  They had her working in the front window of a traditional Turkish restaurant . . . I guess to prove authenticity!

Another shop window bakery worker.

Of course, we frequented the kabob joints.  This was our favorite, The Konak Kabob . . . we went back several times.  Always delicious.

It was a very busy place.  They were hard working slicing and preparing the shawarma.

The Executive Chef, Mitat Oz, at the Konak Kabob was a real showman.

Mitat happily obliged to be photographed.

An apprentice shawarma assembler at the Konak Kabob.

Day turned to night . . . the street vendors were always there.  I had to walk by this guy twice a day . . . he was a hard sell.  I overpaid for some oranges one day.

The shawarma slicers were out at night too.

Midnight chicken shawarma!  Yum-yum!

A young Turkish couple out on a date.  While my wife took a photo with their iPhone, I snapped this sweet shot.

I, for one, would NOT name my night club The Crab Bar.  I would also get rid of the lurker outside the door.

OK . . . I like the effect.  People were out at all hours, even though nit became quite chilly at night in late March.

Such a sad and forlorn sight this political poster made after midnight in the orange light.  But the corrugation made me happy.

The markets, shops, and bazaars of Istanbul are full of a kaleidoscopic array of things . . . lots of things . . . like these wonderful tea sets.  We bought that very purple-tasseled one right there.

Beautiful things: Turkish tea sets.

We spent seven days in Istanbul, and I believe we spent half of our time snooping in shops and market stalls.

There were myriad things to look at, buy, and of course, photograph.

Lamps, lamps, lamps.  These shops made us continually recalculate our baggage weight!  Should we buy, or not.  We didn't get any of these . . . this time.

There were some very interesting shops in Istanbul . . . like this quill pen shop.  You don't see these too much any more.

They have nice soap in Istanbul.

Very nice, and aromatic, soap.  We bought several different scented bars.

Woven and knitted things outside The Grand Bazaar.

A Turkish flag hawker hidden in his wares.

There was no shortage of trinkets at the trinket shops.  These are made for tourists, although I saw plenty of Turks purchasing these trinkets too. An exploitation of cultural iconography.

Traditional Turkish blue glass 'evil eye' bobbles were everywhere in Istanbul.

The trinket shops were interesting, but the GOLD SHOPS were, well, dripping in gold like some potentate's secret treasure room!

The variety of things for sale in the bazaars was incalculable.

15th century Head Shop! Also the only merchant using white light to show his wares . . . they stood out like a fire in the night.

Need to dress your harem dancers?  No problem, there's a shop for that.

We spent some time perusing the fabric shops.  We brought home a nice tablecloth for the kitchen table.

I bought the Black Harley-Davidson Istanbul t-shirt here.  Cool.

It was the spice shops, and The Egyptian Spice Market of Istanbul, that really had fascinating 'things' . . . .

Spice shop array.

The Egyptian Spice Market of Istanbul (Mısır Çarşısı), selling spices, nuts, potions, teas, powders, and dried everything since 1660.  Amazing.

I spoke to the owner of this shop who said his family has held this exact location in The Spice Market since 1660, 355 years!

Dried fruits, some stuffed with nuts (my favorite), and mountains of nuts (my favorite) we fantastic!  We brought back a niece selection of these.

Figs stuffed with walnuts . . . I cannot imagine anything better to eat on this planet . . . OK . . . maybe durian or mango and sticky rice . . . but these are right up there!

I took way too many walnut stuffed fig photos.  These are but a few of the really good ones.  Notice the walnut stuffed dates nearby: also yummie.

These walnut stuffed dried apricots were also marvelous.  The snackage here was astonishing!

A strange twist:  right in the middle of the spice market was what looked like a wedding dress shop.  Complete incongruity!  A strange dream.

Nuts and dried apricots, dates, and figs.  Wow.  Just WOW.  These constitute 74% of my normal, everyday snackage.

The displays in The Spice Market were works of edible Art.

Dried whatnot . . . perhaps some kind of flower petal for tea-making.

Olives!  The Olives . . . . were . . . to . . . . DIE    for!

Fancy some tea?  The tea stalls were fantastic and brought about thoughts of ancient ships bringing these, and the spices, to Istanbul markets for further distribution throughout Europe.

Beautiful sage tea.  The color!!!

There were candies of every imaginable hue in the Bazaars, but it was the Turkish Delight shops and stalls that had the corner on satisfying the globe's sweet tooth.

Enjoy this slide show of the edible things of Istanbul!

If I take a lot of diabetes medication, I can get away with trying a little square of Turkish Delight once a day.  And did.

At a Turkish Delight shop on a cloudy day in Istanbul.

Each of these different types of Delight are ridiculously delicious.  The slice off a piece any size you want.  Nice.

The Delight shops were every five or six shops apart . . . calling out to you to submit yourself to a diabetic collapse.

As it turns out, there are all kinds of delights in a Turkish Delight shop. Some sell good coffee and baked baklava-like things . . . crazy sweet with honey.

These will kill you with sweetness.

Every 50 meters there is a shop like this with stacks of baked and assembled and rolled, and coated delights.

Baklava-ish temptations.  They know how to make desserts in Istanbul, that's for sure.

A stack of pistachio-filled baklava rolls.  Oh My God!

I got a headache just looking at these.

If there wasn't enough honey IN YOUR Baklava, you could buy more and spread it on yourself!  Incredible.

We were very happy when we found the fresh fruit stands and shops.  Pomegranate and orange juice is very thirst quenching . . . .

. . . especially after a really good Turkish pizza(!) made with twisted cheese:

Twisted Turkish cheese.  Mighty fine.

Turkish Efes beer is not too bad.  Not bad at all.

These bread loop peddler's carts are as ubiquitous as, well, kabobs in Istanbul . . .

They are literally on every corner . . .

The carts sometimes seem like meeting places for old friends . . .

As we strolled around Istanbul for a week, I found myself drawn to photographing these peddler carts, even though I do not especially like roasted chestnuts . . .

At first I thought of them as only an interesting foreground detail in a photo frame . . . .

Then I began to see them as an inscribed pecuniary universe inhabited by the cart tender, the peddler . . .

These were mobile business dramas; personal survival was at stake . . .

I was surprised by the limited products offered by the peddlers . . .

There were corn carts, with chestnuts . . .

. . . and corn carts without chestnuts . . .

Some bread ring carts also sold water by the bottle . . . . like this thoughtful peddler . . .

Other carts sold only chestnuts, and very few at that . . .

An interesting business concept employing a cart . . . . Tea and a bowl anyone?  This was one of only a few carts I saw in Istanbul that was not selling either chestnuts, bread rings, corn, or water.

But, it was when the sun began to go down that my infatuation in these Istanbul peddler carts hit a crescendo . . .

At night the peddler carts became small planets arrayed around the monuments, markets, and main streets throughout the city . . .

At night many of the carts were replenished to meet the demands of the night shoppers and party-goers . . .

The pedestrian walks at the city center draw throngs of shoppers in the evening . . .

The carts become lanterns in the night . . . to draw customers, like moths . . .

Visitors, businessmen, tourists, and locals all succumbed to the chestnuts' inescapable allure.

I wonder how these 'locations' are apportioned?  Is there a licensing process with the city? . . .

This man was intensely arranging and rearranging the chestnuts on his cart in an effort, I suppose, to draw attendion to his attention-worthy fare . . .

In the realm of the night peddler cart . . .

As it got later and later in the evening, and the pedestrians thinned out, the carts stood out more and more as forlorn islands of light along the dim streets and avenues . . .

Some cart tenders packed it in and went home . . .

Some cart tenders made their decisions to call it an evening based on the day's take.  I wondered if this man, with a cart still full of chestnuts, had made enough to go home yet . . .

As the evening grew later, I ventured off the main pedestrian walking streets . . .

One last customer.  Who eats roasted chestnuts at midnight? . . .

Walking back to the hotel, along a bridge ramp, I encountered this lonely nut peddler and his cart . . .

Out here, along the broad boulevards with fast moving traffic and few pedestrians, there were still a few carts with their lights on.  This fellow had twisted doughnuts as well as bread rings.

Yes, still customers out at midnight, going who-knows-where . . .

Lit by the red brake lights of a passing bus, this man seemed to have chosen the darkest, most out of the way location possible . . .

This was the only drink cart I saw in seven days of walking Istanbul.  The presence of mayonnaise and catsup made me think that it wasn't going to be a hot drink poured into those cups . . .

Very late at night, the last corn and chestnut cart began to shut down . . .

The last hold out . . . with head hung low.

Emptied and secured for the night (next to a police stand), another day gone in the life of a street peddler cart.