There is hardly a traveller who had come to Istanbul and had not stopped by at the Grand Bazaar. Especially the 18th Century travellers visited the Grand Bazaar without an exception. Foreign travellers of the 18th Century had only a few routes to follow in Istanbul. One of these routes took the traveller to the Asian side, namely Üsküdar (Scutari). From there one went to the Karacaahmet Cemetery called the Place of the Dead at time and on to Bulgurlu or

The place looks like an enclosed and covered huge town where Egyptians, Jews or people from every land and race have gathered together in a single neighborhood; where every merchant has gathered together according to the items he sells; where shoemakers, saddlemakers and many more merchants or craftsmen have their own individual shops. Each arcade is covered with a vault which is decorated with floral figures and Quranic verses, allowing the light to come in.
The shops seem to be pasted together; a hole in the thick wall at the back of the shops houses undisplayed items.
"The most intriqueing is to see the most chracteristic aspects of people of innumarable nationalities.
The Turk sits solemn with his long tobacco pipe;the Greek and the Jew makes gestures while shouting and

yelling; in this jigsaw of alleys and arcades a mixture of human flood flows by:
Persians with their tipped wooly headgears, Armenians with their black hats resembling up-side-down ceramic bowls; Jews with a rag wrapped around their black turbans; Greeks all tarded up; and women with their veils… How crowded it is. And amongst this jamboree a distinguished Turk sits without a single move of his head."
No insult to other traveller authors but perhaps the best description of the Grand Bazaar is made by the Italian author Edmondo De Amicis. In his book titled Istanbul 1874 the Grand Bazaar is the longest chapter.
Amicis starts off his discription of the place stating. "After having walked on both sides of the Golden Horn and having seen Istanbul from above, now is the time to travel into the heart of this city: That world famous eternal carnival full of wonders, treasures and memories of history; the dimmed and secret town, the Grand Bazaar." And he carries on:
"One becomes dumb struck upon entry. It is not a structure. With its arcades covered with arched domes resting on pillars and carved supports; fountains, cross roads, small plazas, prayer rooms: the Bazaar is a real town lightened by sun filtering in like a in a forest -weak and dim; where a huge crowd just wonders about. Every alley is a market place in its own right, each opening up to a main road with arches made of black and white arches decorated in arabesque style.
"Go into one of the markets at random; you will find yourself passing half a day in just that one market. Take the fabrics and clothes market for instance: It is a place of festival so rich and so magnificent that you could loose your wits and consequently your purse. One has to be very carefull otherwise even a small temptation might lead you to send a telegram home asking for financial assistance."
Edmondo De Amicis is mesmerised by the fabrics which display all colors in a rainbow and watches the scene as if he is gazing at the Alhambra Palace. Then he carries on to display his admire: "A man in love with a woman can possibly not think of ransacking this place cursing his fate of not having enough money.
To get away from this thought, Amicis retreats to the pipemakers arcade where he feels calmer: "One can have more tranquil dreams here" and carries on to describe smoking pipes made of jasmin or rose wood, inlaid with crystals or rubies.
But once into the arcade where scents are sold he starts to go back into his previous concerns. Once again he calms down after reaching the jewellers arcade.
Then he rolls into the flea market. He is once again fascinated: "Rembrand would have chosen this place to reside. Goya could have spent every single penny he had… All sorts of rags from the palaces, barracks, harems and theaters all dumped and heaped up wait for an eager painter or a beggar in need."
Amicis, unlike the other travellers does not rush to go out after having done his shopping; he waits till the closing hour: "The voice of the hodja calling the faithfull to pray and announcina the end of the day echoes through the arched domes of the arcades.
"Turks spread out their praying rugs in front of their shops and start to mutter their evening prayers while others are washing themselves at the fountains, getting ready to pray.
The century old men of the arms market have shut their iron gates. The small markets are now desolate, and arcades disappear into the darkness, and entrances to alleys resemle dark caves. Camels suddenly appear behind you and the cries of the water vendor diminishes under far arches. Turkish women hurry along in quick steps. Eunuchs open their eyes wide, foreigners leave and all gates are shut: The day is over."

the Çamlıca Hill of today. A second tour started off with a short visit to Pera (present day Beyoğlu) then continued up the Bosphorus. This tour sometimes ended at Yeniköy and sometimes at Tarabya.But the most magnificient of these routs is the one which again starts at Pera, goes on to the other side of the Golden Horn, cotinued by a quick visit of the Mısır Çarşısı (Spice Bazaar), Saint Sophia, Sultanahmet Mosque and surrounding places and ended with a long visit of the Grand Bazaar.
If only the Grand Bazaar had a log book… Who had not passed bye here? Kings, ambassadors, lords, duchesses, authors, painters and European adventurers… And many more…
Having said this let's get into the time tunnel and travel back to the 18th century and see to what extent time has eroded the Grand Bazaar. Let's start off with a British beauty, Miss Julia Pardou who came to Istanbul in December 1835. Miss Pardou stayed in Istanbul nine months and wrote on this city. In her book named The Beauties of the Bosphorus she wrote extensively on the Grand Bazaar:
"The first place we visited was the Grand Bazaar. We got off our carrage in front of a huge gate. Don't misunderstand me when I talk of a bazaar. It is a huge complex of different units each selling a differen group of commodities. These units are like small towns in themselves. Each street here displays shops selling rich and attractive objects of arts and trade ranging from jewellery to woollen pillows to feather cushions.
"The Bedesten is extremely rich in jewellery. But to have a close look at this jewellery one must be a proper customer or at least pretend to be one. The jewellery one sees at the windows in jars are the least in value.
Nearly all the jewellers are Armenians. It is a reality that most of the permanent trade in the capital city is in the hands of these people. Armenians have a very patient and hard working trade sprit. But the more risky, attractive and complex trades are focal points of the greedy paws of fearless Greeks.
"We went into the street where handicrafts were sold. The displays here were extremely delicate.Everywhere were tobacco cases, money bags and silver embroidered head gear. We bought two heavily embroidered head towels used by Turkish women to wrap around their heads after takihg a bath. These were extremely attractive.

"Next we stopped at the street where only shoes were sold. Here we saw slippers decorated with pearls, gold plated or silver thread It was impossible not to fall in love with them. These slippers were accompanied by hand mirrors.
The backs, handles and the frames of these mirrors were all covered with the same motiffs. The shrill calls of the perfume sellers for customers filled the air. The place looked like a miniature of the holy Arabia. The air carried a cloud of scents. I saw for the first time what ample meant.
All the scents of the East and the West ranging from tightly wrapped containers of rose oil to bottles of Cologne attracted us to the part where they were sold. Miss Pardoe then proceeds to the Spice Market and tells us of the cinnamon, sacks and sacks of coconuts, and heaps of cloves. She describes the amplitude of every commodity and adds that she will never forget the cries of the salesmen.
Another interesting visitor to the place is the 1920 Nobel Award

winner Knut Hamsun. The memoires of his visit in 1899 are recorded in his book Struggle of Life in chapter titled Under the Crescent. During his visit to Istanbul drops by at the Grand Bazaar which he calls a "world of dreams".
To get to the Bazaar Hamsun had to free himself of his guide. The reason is very simple:
"The truth is that all hotel guides earn money through their victims whom they take to see the Grand Bazaar. Take take their commissions on every single purchase made by their victims."
Knut Hamsun finds a way of getting rid of his guide and finds his own way to the Grand Bazaar. He is amazed at what he sees on his way but he is fascinated by the Bazaar:
"The Turkish merchants sat legs crossed in front of their shops with their majestic turbans on their heads, lips tightly closed. If I act as a customer, there is an abundance of ointments, rose oil, scent tablets and perfumes. Here also can be found finely scented waters, powders to shine the eyes, and drops of leisure to be added to coffees for masters and their concubines. If I don't act as a customer no avail. These merchants with their impressive noses are proud but quiet people.
"They just sit there allowing their minds to float full mast with their dreams, adventures and their past experiences. Let the Armenian shout for customers, let the jew humble himself to extremity and keep the foreign infidels happy. You won't find the peace of mind of the Turks in any one of them; they have no place in the Prophet's gardens of Heaven."
Knut Hamsun carries on walking through the arcades selling innummerable object and reaches the part where clothing of a thousand colors and kinds are sold.
"In this part where clothing is sold one does not find only articles to wear but accessories from old time curved swords to embroidered bags. All sorts of material ranging from colorfull swatches of fabric to lead colored Bedouin felts, to velvets, silk and fine leather clothes were all sold here. Robes of dervishes, baggy silk trousers for concubines, Jewish overalls; all came together in this one place."
Yet another name of fame to visit the Grand Bazaar was the Danish poet, playwrite, author and tale writer Hans Christian Andersen.In his book The Bazaar of a Poet published in 1842 under the chapter titled East he wrote on Istanbul and its impartible piece the Grand Bazaar:
"… An arcade where tobacco pipes, meersacheum smoking pieces, amber worry beeds are sold opens up to the market hall made of thick fire proof bricks.