The Buzz of The Bazaars

It’s a Souk in Tripoli, a Khan in Cairo, a Bazaar in Istanbul, a Market in Delhi.
The names, the places, the cultures, the merchandise, except of course for the much touted “authentic” Pashminas from China, are different, but the vibrancy and energetic chaotic sights and sounds are all the same. 

You avoid bumping into the crowds of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, jump out of the way of a bicycle or rickshaw in Delhi, rub shoulders with a mule in the old city of Fes and dodge hawkers outside their shops in Khan Al Khalili.

You drink apple tea in Istanbul, wonder whether you dare drink anything in Delhi and smoke Shisha in Cairo.
You can’t wait to get out, you wish you had more time.  You are stressed, or you are having fun.  
You wonder at past glories and question what has become.  
You learn a few new words; you haggle for all your worth,  and you carry home a trinket or more.

That’s the bazaar.
And that’s where the journey starts.