"Yes, please!" they all say as we pass - as if we were asking who would like a cookie. Some clap and point. Others begin an interrogation vaguely resembling an El Al check-in counter. "Where are you going? What's your name? Have you eaten? Where are you from?"
Restaurants - once one of our great pleasures - have become one of our greatest fears. In Turkey, every restaurant has at least one recruiter and some have recruitment teams. Like mighty vultures, they constantly watch, looking for weakened prey - and by weakened, I mean someone who slows down, looks or answers. The trick is to avoid answering, walk purposefully and avoid eye contact.
If however, a recruiter should get in your face or block your path - which hungry recruiters will do - then a loud, clear, guttural "No thanks." "I'm not interested" or "We aren't eating or drinking" is the next defense. The best situation is if the recruiter calls to you in the wrong language. Some toss out a little Spanish, Italian or Russian in case they have you pegged wrong. English is unfortunately, their best and favorite language.
We had some of this in Crete, but Greek recruiters are amateurs by comparison. They just stand outside and make their existence known - like a blue jay singing to passers by. "Have you eaten? We have great seafood..." Maybe a particularly energetic one might ask, "Do you like mussels?" and if you say, "yes", he's likely to say, "me too!"
In Antalya, we got our first experience with Turkish recruiters. They lined the Kaleci, calling as we passed. One was not only aggressive, but had something I can best describe as a sharp look in his eyes. I preferred to scoot past the turn in the road near his restaurant. He's the only person who made me wonder about the "evil eye".
Only the best of the best make it to Istanbul. Istanbul recruiters have an energy, vitality and precision that make restaurant recruiting worthy of an Olympic sport.
Last night we were in Beyoglu seeking out a famous meyhane - a restaurant which specializes in mezzes or Turkish and Greek appetizers. One particular section of Beyoglu is famous as a meyahne district and the particular restaurant we sought and ultimately dined at, had a few Armenian influenced specialty dishes which were excellent.
The narrow cobblestone street, a block off the gorgeous promenade of Istekal Cadessi, was lit by old lamps encased by 19th century French ironwork arches. The restaurants were old houses beautifully restored and renovated. Each had patio dining with awnings that extended when there was a little drizzle. A mixture of foreign tourists and Turks getting together after work gave the tiny street a warm, social air.
But the path from Istekal Caddessi to the restaurant was a minefield lined with some of the greatest names and talents in the restaurant recruiting business. It takes more than a fast pace, some garlic and a wooden stake to make it to your destination alive.
Of course it was worth it.
What gets more complicated is getting in and out of our hotel. Our little street is lined with tourist oriented restaurants and some very fine recruiting teams. They see so many tourists in a day that most don't recognize that they've already hassled us twice that day. One at the restaurant to the immediate left of the hotel has caught on that if he wants our business, his best tactic is to let us pass. But the restaurant recruiting thugs at the corner, where we turn to head down toward the tram - they are relentless.
The other night I watched them team up on a poor girl who was walking alone. The worst thing to be in Istanbul is a young, attractive, female tourist alone. A combination of recruiting and lust turned these recruiters particularly aggressive to the point where I almost intervened. One got in front of her to block her path and the other came up from behind trying to talk her into sitting down and having a drink. She sat down, took a menu, smoked a cigarette and waited for them to leave. As soon as they did, she got up and left.
Two days ago, we went into a shop which sells backpacks since I still need a replacement for my poor backpack that died a grizzly death in the Rome airport. As we began looking, the salesman started to ask Emily questions about what she was looking for. "Just looking..." she said in that tone that said, "Don't swarm me...."
"I can tell you don't like the way Turkish salesman are. I can read your emotions. This isn't that kind of a store. Take a look around - enjoy your looking."
I have never met anyone as knowledgeable about cheap backpacks as this man. He was nice and listed every feature possible right down to, "And of course it's a good looking backpack and that's very important because it's like a piece of clothing you wear everyday and it has to look good on you." When we left he said, "It will be a nice emotion to see you again."
The backpack costs more than we want to pay, but I still think about it just because of that guy and his fantastic sales approach. He left us wanting to buy from him. Smart man.
The cheaper places where locals eat are recruiter free, very tasty and good for our budget. So, while we might enjoy eating at some of the nicer restaurants near the hotel, the recruiters actually push us toward the aggression-free environment of the eateries a few blocks away. We get better and more for less without the hassle.
The best was the place which specializes in tavuk doner kebab - the Turkish version of chicken shwarma - where they roast vegetables between the layers of meat. Their product looks different and attracts crowds as the doner men show you how they place peppers, eggplant and cheese in their special wraps to make their doner special. For five lira we got great food, a lesson and entertainment.
Still, we won't let recruiters stop us from visiting the places we want to go. But when we have the choice to take a street with restaurants and one without, you can be assured that like two people on some kind of sick Weight Watchers restaurant aversion therapy - we'll take the road less dined.
Restaurants - once one of our great pleasures - have become one of our greatest fears. In Turkey, every restaurant has at least one recruiter and some have recruitment teams. Like mighty vultures, they constantly watch, looking for weakened prey - and by weakened, I mean someone who slows down, looks or answers. The trick is to avoid answering, walk purposefully and avoid eye contact.
If however, a recruiter should get in your face or block your path - which hungry recruiters will do - then a loud, clear, guttural "No thanks." "I'm not interested" or "We aren't eating or drinking" is the next defense. The best situation is if the recruiter calls to you in the wrong language. Some toss out a little Spanish, Italian or Russian in case they have you pegged wrong. English is unfortunately, their best and favorite language.
We had some of this in Crete, but Greek recruiters are amateurs by comparison. They just stand outside and make their existence known - like a blue jay singing to passers by. "Have you eaten? We have great seafood..." Maybe a particularly energetic one might ask, "Do you like mussels?" and if you say, "yes", he's likely to say, "me too!"
In Antalya, we got our first experience with Turkish recruiters. They lined the Kaleci, calling as we passed. One was not only aggressive, but had something I can best describe as a sharp look in his eyes. I preferred to scoot past the turn in the road near his restaurant. He's the only person who made me wonder about the "evil eye".
Only the best of the best make it to Istanbul. Istanbul recruiters have an energy, vitality and precision that make restaurant recruiting worthy of an Olympic sport.
Last night we were in Beyoglu seeking out a famous meyhane - a restaurant which specializes in mezzes or Turkish and Greek appetizers. One particular section of Beyoglu is famous as a meyahne district and the particular restaurant we sought and ultimately dined at, had a few Armenian influenced specialty dishes which were excellent.
The narrow cobblestone street, a block off the gorgeous promenade of Istekal Cadessi, was lit by old lamps encased by 19th century French ironwork arches. The restaurants were old houses beautifully restored and renovated. Each had patio dining with awnings that extended when there was a little drizzle. A mixture of foreign tourists and Turks getting together after work gave the tiny street a warm, social air.
But the path from Istekal Caddessi to the restaurant was a minefield lined with some of the greatest names and talents in the restaurant recruiting business. It takes more than a fast pace, some garlic and a wooden stake to make it to your destination alive.
Of course it was worth it.
What gets more complicated is getting in and out of our hotel. Our little street is lined with tourist oriented restaurants and some very fine recruiting teams. They see so many tourists in a day that most don't recognize that they've already hassled us twice that day. One at the restaurant to the immediate left of the hotel has caught on that if he wants our business, his best tactic is to let us pass. But the restaurant recruiting thugs at the corner, where we turn to head down toward the tram - they are relentless.
The other night I watched them team up on a poor girl who was walking alone. The worst thing to be in Istanbul is a young, attractive, female tourist alone. A combination of recruiting and lust turned these recruiters particularly aggressive to the point where I almost intervened. One got in front of her to block her path and the other came up from behind trying to talk her into sitting down and having a drink. She sat down, took a menu, smoked a cigarette and waited for them to leave. As soon as they did, she got up and left.
Two days ago, we went into a shop which sells backpacks since I still need a replacement for my poor backpack that died a grizzly death in the Rome airport. As we began looking, the salesman started to ask Emily questions about what she was looking for. "Just looking..." she said in that tone that said, "Don't swarm me...."
"I can tell you don't like the way Turkish salesman are. I can read your emotions. This isn't that kind of a store. Take a look around - enjoy your looking."
I have never met anyone as knowledgeable about cheap backpacks as this man. He was nice and listed every feature possible right down to, "And of course it's a good looking backpack and that's very important because it's like a piece of clothing you wear everyday and it has to look good on you." When we left he said, "It will be a nice emotion to see you again."
The backpack costs more than we want to pay, but I still think about it just because of that guy and his fantastic sales approach. He left us wanting to buy from him. Smart man.
The cheaper places where locals eat are recruiter free, very tasty and good for our budget. So, while we might enjoy eating at some of the nicer restaurants near the hotel, the recruiters actually push us toward the aggression-free environment of the eateries a few blocks away. We get better and more for less without the hassle.
The best was the place which specializes in tavuk doner kebab - the Turkish version of chicken shwarma - where they roast vegetables between the layers of meat. Their product looks different and attracts crowds as the doner men show you how they place peppers, eggplant and cheese in their special wraps to make their doner special. For five lira we got great food, a lesson and entertainment.
Still, we won't let recruiters stop us from visiting the places we want to go. But when we have the choice to take a street with restaurants and one without, you can be assured that like two people on some kind of sick Weight Watchers restaurant aversion therapy - we'll take the road less dined.
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