Kilos, not Pounds

Every Saturday, Hisarüstü (the section of Istanbul I live in) hosts an open-air market. Most of the vendors perch their stations at the top of a steep cobblestone path that runs down to the Bosphorus. Like many farmers’ markets in America, this market offered everything from fresh fruits and vegetables to salted meats and fish.

Walking between the stalls I picked up on the familiar pungencies of strawberries, tomatoes, and squash, which reminded me of summertime in the States. There was also a nice hint of citrus that helped level out the musky scent of goat cheese and fish. To compliment the aromas, there was a bevy of bright shades and hues; the stark white cheeses, the ruby red tomatoes, the fiery oranges, the deep plum of the eggplants, and the yellow sheen from the lemons all pooled in a heady medley of color.

I had to use exceptional self-restraint to not buy everything in sight: the dried apricots were calling out to me on one side, but across the street those cute little bananas were giving me the puppy dog eyes. I went with the bananas.

Turkish bananas are a little smaller than the Chiquita bananas that populate grocery stores in the U.S., so I figured I would get a bunch to carry around with me as light snacks during school days. I scanned the signs for the cheapest price, went up to the vendor, and in mangled Turkish, asked for two kilos of bananas. I knew going into this whole thing that 1 kilo is equivalent to 2.2 pounds. What I didn’t realize was just how many damn bananas are in 2.2 pounds. A kilo of bananas was only 3 TL (a little less than $2), so ordering three and half dollars worth of bananas seemed reasonable at the time. I rethought the whole "reasonable" thing after being handed 4 dozen bananas.  

Next stop was the cheese vendor. He gave me a bunch of samples, and I was particularly partial to the fresh mozzarella, so I decided to order a quarter kilo, trying to avoid making the banana mistake again. Of course, I didn’t actually know how to order a quarter of something in Turkish. But I did know the word for half, so in my optimistic reasoning, I thought that by saying “half half kilo,” I would walk away with a quarter. The cheese guy wasn’t quite on the same page. “Half half kilo” to him meant two half kilos, AKA one kilo. Only after he had neatly wrapped up these two halves in nice packaging did I realize my mistake. I didn’t have the heart or the language skills to say that I wanted less, so I paid him and walked away kicking myself.

I then strut up to the guy selling oranges, determined to come away with a reasonable portion of food this time. I ordered half a kilo of oranges, he weighed a few out, and handed me a perfect amount. I was so satisfied with my success that I unthinkingly set the oranges on the ground in order to reach for my wallet. Remember how I said the market was perched on top of a really steep hill? Yeah, well apparently oranges, being quite spherical and all, have a tendency to obey the Law of Gravity. Who knew? Eventually I was able to recover all of my oranges; my dignity, though, is another story.

And so sums up my adventure at the market. Lessons I’ve learned:

1. Eating 48 Turkish bananas before they rot means eating 7 bananas a day.
2. Eating 7 bananas a day is not a healthy lifestyle. Nor is it an enjoyable one, it turns out.
3. Despite a truly gallant attempt, it is not possible to finish two pounds of cheese in one sitting.
4. Round things like to roll down hills.