The Grand Bazaar is a walled town of about sixty covered streets and some four thousand shops, under painted vaults in the middle of the old city. Getting lost in it is the point. Whole lanes belong to a single trade — goldsmiths, carpets, lamps, ceramics, leather — each with a quarter of its own. Tea trays sail past overhead, coppersmiths hammer out of sight, and daylight drops through high windows onto pyramids of lokum. At the centre sits the oldest part, the Cevahir Bedesten, a domed inner hall of antiques, old coins, amber beads and inlaid daggers.
Mehmed II founded the market just after the conquest of 1453, and it began as a stone hall for jewels and cloth. It is still a working market rather than a museum: about twenty-six thousand people earn their living inside it. Prices climb near the busy gates, and they are found by talking rather than read off a label. The lanes are not a plan anyone drew at once: the market grew by fire and rebuilding, so the streets meet at angles that make sense only from inside.