I stink at poker. I'm really, really bad at lying. I squeal when I see something I like, wrinkle my nose at something that smells bad and immediately start proclaiming my love for anything that tastes good.
I just can't help it. My tendency is to be as honest as possible, to say it straight, get it out there, let the world know how I feel.
This has led to several hilarious incidents that Jeff and I still laugh over, like the one time several years ago when I was working as a ballroom dance teacher and my colleagues and I went into a Ben & Jerry's in Philly to have ice cream.
Before I tell you the story, let me say this: I notoriously confuse the flavors Chunky Monkey -- a most disgusting combination of banana ice cream and fudge chunks and walnuts -- and Chubby Hubby -- glorious fudge-covered peanut butter-filled pretzels in vanilla ice cream with fudge and peanut butter. It is -- if you don't count Turkey Hill's Tin Roof Sundae -- The Best Ice Cream on The Planet.
What does this have to do with Turkish carpets? you ask. I'm getting there!
Anyway. So we go into the store and I order Chunky Monkey because I get confused. Don't they sound the same to you? They sound the same to me. I seriously think the people at Ben & Jerry's need to rethink this.
So the teenage girl behind the counter gives me a small cup of Chunky Monkey -- which, have I pointed this out?, is the most disgusting thing ever -- and I start going to town on this ice cream.
And I'm putting the first spoonful in my mouth and I realize, hey, wait a minute. Where's the peanut butter? There's fudge in here but there are no pretzels.
Then, is that a walnut? What the f*&k? It's banana!
Immediately, I start going apeshit.
"OH MY GOD. What IS this? This is disgusting. No seriously, it's gross."
My colleagues turn to look at me in horror. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my friend's husband back away from me.
"No seriously, you guys, I don't know what this is but it's disgusting. Like really gross. Ewwww...I can't even believe it. Are you sure this is Chunky Monkey, because it really doesn't taste like it."
The girl behind the counter asks me what I was expecting and when I tell her she says, "Oh, you wanted the Chubby Hubby.""YES, that's it. Of course, Chubby Hubby. Isn't that what I said? What is this anyway? It's gross."
As if she didn't already know that.
So you can see how I am. It's not just with bad stuff too. It's with good stuff. I walk into a pazar (market), find something I absolutely love and think MUST HAVE THIS ITEM and immediately start squealing in delight. And then of course the price of said item goes up about 500%.
Now do you see what this has to do with carpets?
This happened right before Halloween when a friend of mine and I spent all day visiting those fake jewelry shops (a bijuteri in Turkish, I think) for a boa for my 1920s flapper costume. Don't ask -- long story. Anyway, the 12th -- 12th!! -- store we went into had one and I simply could not help myself. I squealed, I giggled in delight, I think I may have jumped up and down. My friend (Hi, Cherie!) stood by in horror. When I asked how for the price, the sales woman, whom my friend said exchanged a knowing glance with her colleague just a second earlier, said, "26 TL."
26 lira for a stinkin' boa. Needless to say, I didn't buy it.
Anyway. All of this is to say that Jeff and I are back in Diyarbakir today to visit our lovely friend Umit and I have big plans to buy a carpet. Or rather I have plans to buy a big carpet.
And I must, simply MUST keep a straight face when bargaining with the salesman. The minute your facial expression conveys any kind of pleasure or interest in something, not only do you risk only being shown items similar to it, you also jack up the price.
You see how this is very hard for me. I can't help but look at a carpet and go "OOOOO, PRETTY!!"
Last January when Jeff and I were in Diyarbakir and bought a few smaller carpets, Jeff played the straight man to my "OH MY GOD I LOVE IT" persona. Of course, having our friend Umit there, who speaks both Turkish and Kurdish, also helped a little bit. Okay, it helped a lot, which is why we haven't bought a carpet all year and have been waiting to go back to Diyarbakir so that Umit could help us again.
During all our negotiations, this is the facial expression Jeff tried to play to counter balance me:
It basically says "Yeah, I'm drinking your tea and I'm even semi-interested, but since I'm the one with the wallet, don't listen to my wife. And she sure as hell ain't buying the most expensive carpet in here."
Shopping with Umit was a real learning experience for me. I can drink the tea, I can muhabbet sohbet (chit chat) with the best of them, but I really need help in the negotiating department (see: how I bought my Birkenstocks). I'm really hoping that this weekend I can pick up some good tips.
Or at the very least, come home with an awesome carpet worthy of going "OH MY GOD I LOVE IT."
