So there I was again looking for something to take back from Costantine. But, no, there was nothing I liked, so I gave up and decided to buy at least a silver bracelet but even those were not up to my standarts.
Anyway, to get back to the story, while walking around and muttering these to myself, a Turkish speaking Algerian has learnt that I came from Istanbul. Looking at me with surprised eyes he said: "You live in a city embracing the Grand Bazaar which holds the most beautiful jewellery, the best of all carpets, the most precious antiques; you would'nt like anything from here.
The man was right but I was determined to take back something, eventually I bought a silver bracelet. The bracelet disappeared the same day as its clip had come loose.
Why did I tell you this story? Me who is trying to solve the magic of the Bazaar, is after clues. Yes, here at the Cebeci Han I feel a perfect world citizen. I can't give up looking at these carpets and kilims and in this rich and colorfull world of kilims I'm about to loose my mind. "God" I say to myself, how many looms are there in this world that kilims seem so endless.
Then I gaze at the copper. Anytime I go to Gaziantep where I was born and spent my early youth, I inevitably walk into the coppersmiths market. The rhythymic sound of copper being beaten is the music of my childhood. My way to school in Gaziantep passed through the coppersmiths market and we the children would match a melody to this rhythym and walk away in dancing steps.
And me now, in this place where endless variety of copper beaten with undefinable skill is displayed, am returning back to those magnifcent and worriless days. I get impatient to see more and more copper as I touch pitchers after cups after lanterns. I want to see if I can discover a new type of copper craft or variety.
Don't ever drop me off at the Grand Bazaar, I could wonder around for days gazing at beauties created by human hands with no complaints. I will never forget: while touring the Selçuk Museum which perhaps displays the most wonderful statues I came across a a small golden statuette which the famous painter Picasso had promptly copied. I yearned to touch it was then that I understood the lives dedicated to this cause, the passion for antiques and the madness of traveling back in time. The feeling was immaculate.

In reality I never liked to wear real jewellery, this probably is because I never had enough money to buy them but watching these earrings, broches, necklaces is like walking in amusement in a world where only beauty exists. One just does'nt get enough.
God, there is no end to human passion for beauty.
I carry on searching for reasons this magic. And then there is the maddeningcolors of fabrics which have come all the way from Pakistan, India and Syria. Thi glitter of the velvets. Most unlikely colors match each other, a storm of colors which no painter wold dare, a mutiniy.
Sat here at Cebeci Han, thinking of all these; gates will be shot soon but I still haven't discovered the reasons of this magic. At least here I learnt that I feel like a citizen of this world. That's why I feel happy and don't give up my search.

Sat at one of the best places of the Grand Bazaar on cushions made of all sorts of tapestry and sipping my Turkish coffee placed on a Syrian Orientalist style table, I couldn't help thinking that this place is magic.
Yes, I indeed was in a magical place and I felt myself belonging to Cebeci Han as if I've lived here for many years. What was it that attracted me to this place?
Years ago I was wondering in the streets of Costantine of Algiers looking