Bazaar: Quentin's perspective

I knew this was a bad idea.

We were sitting at lunch, enjoying the nice spring day and the sunshine, but I knew what was coming. We were going to the bazaar. I knew that I didn’t have any choice in the matter, so my options were to go kicking and screaming or to go silently. I chose the latter.

We walked up Tole Bi Avenue until we got to the area we thought was it. It’s basically a series of small alleys going off of the main road, back to the right side of the street. We had been warned of the usual stuff like pickpockets, so I was on the lookout for anyone suspicious. We walked past several alleys until we got near what looked like the end, and ventured in.

It didn’t take long. I was no more than ten steps into the alley when I lost my wife. She was right behind me, where did she… oh. At the first shop. Looking at knitted baby items that she could not possibly do without. I knew I was in trouble. You see, in places like these, my wife turns into a flea-market loving, deal-obsessed, bargain-hunter extraordinaire.

Our Russian is poor. That’s a nice way of saying “non-existent.” So we used pen and paper to have them write down how much an item is, and then we decided if that was a decent price or not. The idea in a bazaar such as this is that you can barter with them. I like bartering, because I know I can walk away if the price isn’t right. My wife on the other hand, looks at the first price and says, “we’ll take two”! From the first stand, we ended up with a crocheted little hat. Admittedly it’s cute, and it was only 400 tenge. I still think we could have talked her down to 300.

We kept moving. The maze of narrow aisles isn’t for the claustrophobic. I felt like a rat in a maze, looking for the piece of cheese. I kept expecting to see David Bowie from “Labyrinth” pop out from behind a screen. It never happened.

Kara found a baby outfit that she needed to get. We looked up “12 months” in our phrase book, and wrote it down. Apparently they don’t have sizes in Kazakhstan. Kara got out her tape measure, and measured the outfit. It seemed to be the right size. They wanted 1400 tenge for it but after limited bartering (at my prodding) we only paid 1300. I still think they would have taken 1200 for it.

We found some books, and bought an alphabet book, a fairy tale book, and a map of Taraz. Again, pretty reasonably priced for what we got. We didn’t try to barter here; I was already defeated.

Walking around some more, we entered into Kara’s personal Nirvana: the fabric area. Aisles upon aisles of fabrics of all colors and textures. I knew that Kara could spend hours if not days in there. Somehow, we managed to escape with wallets intact. I’m not sure how that happened. I think I blacked out due to trauma during that time.

Somehow we made it to the end, and weaved our way back to the street. While I didn’t think I had been hit by a pickpocket, I was definitely shorter on money coming out than I was going in.

All in all, it’s an interesting experience. Definitely keep an eye out and take the usual precautions to avoid the unsavory types. Also don’t be afraid to barter. From what Zema told us, if clothing is 2000 tenge you might be able to talk them down to 1700 or 1800. For items such as food you will probably pay the asking price.

Kara says we’re going back, but I don’t know how much more of that kind of fun I can take.