A language spoken with the hands

In the spice bazaar in Istanbul, the shopkeeper and I had no language in common. He spoke Turkish and I spoke Persian, and both of us a little broken English. Yet ten minutes later we had agreed on a price for saffron, and he had poured me a glass of apple tea.

Everything was said with hands: fingers showing the weight, a palm laid on the chest meaning "honestly, it isn't expensive", and the laugh when we both found a word we shared: "chai".

Words that have travelled#

Later I realised we shared a few more: pencere and panjereh for window, dükkân and dokkan for shop, pazar and bazaar. Words that crossed from one language to another centuries ago, perhaps along that same Silk Road, and stayed.

When we said goodbye, he put his hand on his chest. I did the same. Nothing needed translating.