Hay Que Tocar


“Ey, Anna, mamacita. Hay que tocar. Hay que mirar. Eres preciosa.”

It should be noted for the reference of salesmen at the Grand Bazaar that attacking me, deciding to name me Anna (Umm why? Racist and not very creative.) and flattery will not motivate me to buy from you.

Even if you do get points for correctly guessing the language of my people.

Because considering I get asked if I am everything under the sun constantly, this is an accomplishment.

However, flattery apparently works on me when coming from an attractive 20-year-old salesman.


Me and “Sammy” the silver salesguy totally bonded.

He invited me for tea. (Which I declined.)

He asked me my age. (We bonded over being 20. So much in common already.)

He charged me 25 TL for a gift I was buying. (“A special price just for you.” Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure.)

He wrapped up the gift saying, “So are you a top model?” (I giggled like a 12-year-old. “Oh me? No, no. hee hee hee.” But really, dude, you’ve already made the sale.)

He handed me his card and told me to come back soon. (I’ll be back to buy every evil eye trinket you’ve got, Sammyboy!)

He ran into me minutes later as he was rushing across the bazaar. “Come with me, this way!” (hee. hee. hee. “Oh no, no.”)

Sometimes, I am embarrassed to know myself.



4 Responses to “Hay Que Tocar”

  1. i enjoyed this

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