The Last Days of Bazaar and Teahouses

I’ve been doing professional photography for 11 years, and since my childhood, I’ve been drawn to bazaars and teahouses. For me, they are more than just places - they are part of my memories and identity. And it’s the same for many people across Central Asia, the Caucasus, and the Middle East.

So, what makes bazaars and teahouses truly special? It’s the explosion of senses the moment you step in: the bright, intoxicating flavours of spices, the sweet and bitter notes of tea, the smell of fresh bread or roasted nuts mingling with the air. It’s the colours - vibrant fabrics, glinting copperware, piles of fresh fruits and vegetables that look like a painter’s palette. And yes, it's the sounds - bustling chatter, haggling voices, clinking teacups, laughter echoing across narrow alleys.

But above all, it’s the human connection. In these places, strangers become friends, where stories are exchanged over steaming cups of tea, and where the rhythm of daily life is both chaotic and comforting. And I love that. They’re not just places to shop or eat - they’re spaces where culture, history, and community blend with each other.

Unfortunately, bazaars and teahouses are disappearing in many countries, and with them, a piece of our shared history. E-commerce, urban development, and globalization are erasing these spaces that once served as the heartbeat of cities. High-rise buildings, shopping malls, and chain cafés like Starbucks are replacing the narrow alleys, the colourful stalls, and the tiny, smoke-filled teahouses where people gathered for conversation, tea and to play backgammon (yeah, yeah).

For me, the loss is not only personal but cultural. Bazaars and teahouses were crossroads of identity, where people from different walks of life mingled freely.

I’ve been noticing the same thing here in the UK with flea markets. Does this happen in your cities as well?