An American Life in Istanbul

I made an album of pictures from this past weekend. The pictures are located at the following address:

Izzy’s Boat

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I have been thinking a lot lately about why I came to Turkey. Things have not been as easy as I had anticipated they would. There are many things that bother me, and that are not going as I would like them to. I won’t go into any great detail because frankly, it’s not interesting.

This is however not the right question to answer. I am already in Turkey, who cares why I came. The proper question is “why am I in Turkey?” Of course you must be able to answer the first question before you can answer the second question, and you must be me before you can answer either I suppose. The consensus among people who Baris tells of my coming to Turkey is that I must be crazy. The common reaction is ‘who would leave America for Turkey? Everyone wants to go the other way.’

I guess the answer is me, and a small group of other people who must think in a somewhat similar way to myself. What was I thinking when I came here; adventure! Since the first time I took that big step over the pond to Europe way back in the summer of 2003, I have been enamored with the idea of traveling and seeking adventure. I remember growing up and having my father all the time returning from business trips with stories of different cultures and places. Returning to school in September meant hearing of Vlad and Lukasz’s adventures in their home countries. I was jealous, but patient. That first trip, I remember being absolutely overwhelmed with excitement as my plane touched down in Amsterdam, as I took the train to Germany to spend a week with the Van Elten family before moving on to Turkey. It’s like it happened yesterday.

Since that time, I have been a glutton for traveling, for trying new things, for meeting new people, for adventure. I somewhat fancy myself as an adventure seeker. Like a drug, each fix I get, only leaves a greater hunger for more. Will it end? That I am afraid to answer. For now, I live in the present. I have little if any responsibility, I own nearly nothing, and I have no ghosts in the closet to hide from, and I like that.

At the moment I am in Tunisia, sitting in a garden beneath a nearly full moon, surrounded by rather unimpressive yet beautiful white buildings having a beer and smoking a nargile (I know, they are both bad habits). The atmosphere is wonderful. It inspires in me a pleasant calm, and a desire to write. Sitting here, I can’t help but think about what were my favorite things about all the places I have visited.

In the Marshall Islands, it was being there with Danny. In Egypt it was Paal and Graham. In Switzerland it was Paal, Kathi, Otto, Nuno and Alyse. In Turkey it was Izzy and Basar. Always it has been the people. My favorite thing about each place I have been is the people that were there with me. Going somewhere is one thing, but having a friend there with you changes it completely. Having someone to share the experience with, to laugh at the jokes, to laugh at each other, to talk to, to argue with, makes everything that much better. One of my favorite moments in the past few months was a rather mundane evening on a boat in Egypt in which my brother Graham told a rather stupid joke after an equally stupid joke from me. It was hilarious though. We laughed for a good 10 or 15 minutes with tears running down our cheeks and a pain in our sides. Trying to retell the joke made us laugh even harder. Had anyone else told that joke, it wouldn’t have been funny. That is my favorite memory of Egypt.

I guess I am extremely social (I guess we probably all knew that). I try to be friends with everybody, because everybody has good qualities. Everybody can be fun, and enjoyable to spend time with. Everybody has bad qualities as well, but if you look at them in the right light, there is a friend in everybody. It is because of this that I want to say thank you to everyone whom has been a friend to me and still is:

Tom, Brett, Vlad, Lukasz, Nick, Bobby, Jennie S, Katie S, Andra, Ilya, Dave, Parisa, Rahul, Rahal, Eric, Jeremy, Paal, Otto, Hacker, Shitling, Vince, Charles, Vicki, Nuno, Stefan, Kathi, Alyse, Liz V, Jessica, Foli, Ma, ChoCho, Maung, Joseph, Dr Santiago, EiEi, Kristen, Liz P, Patrick, Pee Pants, Chewie, Clann, Rhina, Adrienne, Inger, Izzy, Basar, Tahsin, Leigh, Kim, Aubrey, Arun, Danny, Jennie K, Amy, Arianna, Irene, Tommy Puddles, Philthy, BD, Holt, Chris D, Chuckles, Alan, Johannes, Esteban, Fubar, Bruce Lee, Jerome, Lauren, OTR, Raka, Kelly, Sam, Kami, Murat, Liz C, Daneille, Kostya, Karolina, Kat, Anastasia, Roberto, Butters, Kentai, Dan C, Bird, Santiago, Donk, SeanO, Stefanie W, Andre, Buffalo, Dave M, Amin, Davide, Mireia, Baris, Franziska, George, Liz A, Yann, Jason, Lock, Beth, Martin, Israel, David S,Will, and of course my family.

So, who just did a search for their name on this entry? Tool.

The conclusion that follows is do you really need to go anywhere to find adventure? It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do. Instead it’s about who you go with. For all you know the next great adventure could be that person sitting next to you in class, or that person that stops you to ask for directions. We need only keep an open mind and wear a smile, and adventure will find its way into our lives. But where does it end? Is it possible that there is that one adventure that can be the final chapter in each of our stories, that lets our stories come to a satisfactory ending?

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Current Mood: Bored

Regardless of who you are, where you come from, or what you are interested in, you must go to Taksim. It is the heart of Istanbul. There are clubs, restaurants, shops (one of which haven’t closed for a minute in over 40 years), bars, nargile cafes, Starbucks… you name it, and it’s there. At night, a cacophony of different music, car horns, motorcycle engines, singing and yelling fill Taksim’s crowded streets, creating an atmosphere that is quite unique in my experience. There is a kind of infectious energy there. If you are tired, go to Taksim and take a beer, you won’t be tired anymore. The endless energy that is in the air there, that makes the pulse that keeps time in Istanbul’s heart, will draw you in; it will trigger a second wind.

Saturday night, after dinner at a fabulous restaurant in Taksim, I had some time to kill before meeting Basar and his future brother-in-law, Alistair, so I took a few laps around Taksim and noticed a few things. Should you have the opportunity to kill some time in the evening in Taksim, do as I have done. Walk around, look not at the shops, not at the clubs, not at the beautiful men and women that epitomize sexual desirability, instead look at everyone. Look at all the faces, listen to the language, and watch the shoulders, the eyes, the walk and the clothes. In the short main street through Taksim you will some very interesting groups.

Couples: Of course there are many couples walking through Taksim. It is very obvious who is together and who is not. Turkish men always seem to walk with some sort of body contact with their girl. They will either hold hands, put a hand around the waist, or around the shoulder. Of Taksim’s patrons, these are the slowest walkers. After all what is the rush anyway? Taksim moves in a special way. I won’t attempt to describe it (I would need to see from a bird’s eye view to be able to have any real comments on this), sorry to disappoint, guess you’ll just have to visit and see for yourself.

These couples strolling carelessly through Taksim illustrate a point of Turkish culture, which I have observed but I don’t think I have mentioned here (on my blog) yet.

Groups of friends: These are typically large groups of Turkish men, which stroll through the streets of Taksim at leisurely pace. Although not quite as leisurely as the coupled people you see, they do seem to be as close at times. In Turkish culture body contact between same sex friends seems to be a very normal thing. Two guys will walk down the street one with his arm around the other. Heck, Murat’s uncle Ahmet comes into the office and gives me a little shoulder massage from time to time. It is also customary for Turkish men (well for everyone) to kiss each other twice on the cheek when greeting. I am not exactly comfortable with this yet, but I am trying to fit in.

It is interesting to note before reading about the foreigners, that Turks seem to walk in lines perpendicular to the flow of traffic, and often keep their eyes looking ahead at eye level. They don’t really look at anything in particular; they just look ahead or at each other.

Americans/foreigners: You can pick them out from a mile away. They walk different, they talk different and they look different. I saw several groups of English speakers – I assume they were tourists – in my stroll through Taksim and they all seemed to have the same characteristics.

1. They walk faster. They all seemed like they were going somewhere urgently, or lost and getting a bit of anxiety because of it.

2. They walk in a line parallel to the flow of traffic. This makes it easier to stay together, and therefore they can move faster. Does this say something about which culture is more efficiency oriented? I merely pose the question – I dare not take another shot at the Turkish way without examining myself ?.

3. They don’t look ahead of them. Turks seem to look straight ahead as they are going and talking. They look at each other, or directly ahead at eye level. They don’t really seem to be looking at anyone or any particular thing, just kind of looking. The foreign groups follow their leader and look everywhere but straight ahead. They look at the signs, the shops, each other, their shoes, their phones, but rarely straight ahead for any length of time. I do the same thing because it’s all so new to me, but the foreigners always seem a bit skittish. Taksim is intimidating and many of them seem to be a bit intimidated. Perhaps they are partially afraid to make strong eye contact with the Turks who stare so boldly ahead of them.

4. They walk closer together. If you took an aerial picture of Taksim, I bet you could pick out all the groups of foreigners and tourists. They stay much closer to each other, which ends up offsetting any efficiency gained from lining up parallel to the flow of traffic, so that knows if any of theories are right. I suppose you’ll have to look for myself and see if you see the same things.

Transvestites: Let me say it again: Transvestites. Big, manly, muscular, square-jawed, broad-shouldered, Transvestites. What true place of the night would be complete with out transvestites? Where I am from, you don’t see a lot of Transvestites, so I can’t help but stare sometimes. The first thought that goes through my mind is always, “what an ugly women. She must have fallen out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.” As the ogre gets closer, my second thought is always, “ooohhhh, right.” On this particular evening in Taksim, I was amazed by one’s 5 o’clock shadow (how could they let that go?!) and I guess I gawked a little bit too long, because she, err he caught my look. My face was expressionless – my mouth may have open a little bit in disbelief, which I suppose could be taken the wrong way. He noticed me, and attempted to do a feminine smile back at me. I immediately turned and walked the other way.

The funny thing about the Transvestites I have seen in Taksim is they are probably the worst kinds of guys to dress up as women. They have such masculine forms and shapes to their faces and bodies that they could never fool anybody. This leads to the question of why none of the guys with feminine looks, and there are many, are not playing for the other team on Friday nights?

Occam’s Razor tells us that the simplest answer to a problem is the right answer until it can be proven wrong. In this case, our simplest answer is that they do change uniforms at half time, and have just been fooling me so far. Scary thought isn’t it?

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Current Mood: Esctatic

For pictures from the weekend go to:

Izzy’s Boat

Once again I had quite a weekend. Friday night, Izzy, Tahsin and I went to Berna’s birthday party. We played some beer pong, socialized with Berna’s large group of what seemed like all foreign friends, and ate, nothing unusual. Afterwards, our group went back to Tahsin’s to hangout while most of the rest of the people went out to Taksim. There was one strange guy that sort of followed us back to Tahsin’s, and then disappeared when we got there.

Saturday, a bit under the weather from the late night of partying, we made our way down to Izzy’s boat for an afternoon cruising the Bosporus. This was amazing! Tahsin, Izzy, Leyla, Berna and myself had all planned to take the boat it. Ali Emre (sp?), a friend of Izzy and Tahsin’s happened to be going by while we were getting ready, and decided to join us randomly. Another CMU friend, Nail, also joined us at Tahsin’s place.

This boat trip was amazing. Cruising down the Bosporus provides some incredible views! It is such a different view of the city. There are many small mansions leaning tediously over the Bosporus. They can always be seen, but you cannot truly appreciate their architecture and style unless passing by on a boat. A bit outside of the city (closer to the black sea), the hills grow less and less populated until, believe it or not, I actually saw what appeared to be forests!

Saturday night Leyla and I had dinner at Istanbul 360: a rooftop restaurant with spectacular views of Istanbul, and out over the Bosporus and Halic (the golden horn). The food was good, but not great, the cocktails were amazing, the view and the atmosphere were fantastic.

After I went to meet Basar – one of my fraternity brothers who is still at CMU – whom has just returned to Istanbul for a few weeks. Basar, his future brother-in-law and I had a few drinks together until about 3am at which point I headed back to Izzy’s. I got an invitation to Basar’s sister’s wedding June 8th, which may be tough to make. I was very glad to see Basar again – a little disappointed that he didn’t do as well as he’s capable of – and am a bit sad he’s he for only a few weeks. Sometime shortly after his sister’s wedding he’s heading off to do some internship in Southeast Asia (I might have to double check that).

Sunday was slow. Izzy, Leyla and I went climbing (Tahsin hurt his back) and then hung out at Tahsin’s. I took the opportunity to take a two-mile jog down by the Bosporus while in the city. It was a good place to run, but there were too many people to dodge.

Today, Monday: I am on a plane to Tunis, Tunisia, to meet with who may become a distributor for us in North Africa. This is my first business trip (Izmir and Hanover don’t really count because it wasn’t just me) and I am a little nervous. Expectations are not terribly high for this trip, but I am afraid of the inevitable language problems. Mr Kamel Hachicha, does not speak English. I therefore will have use French for the next three days. It’s been two years since I have really had a good opportunity to speak French and have been losing words left and right (I forgot the word for Tuesday the other day), and I never had the vocabulary to talk about screw compressors.

This is however also very exciting. It will be challenging, and fun to speak French. It adds to the whole adventure of it all. My third time in Africa, in a new country, in an unfamiliar culture, I can use only French, I am going to a city I have never heard of (Sfax) to meet people I have never met before… you get that butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling, the same exciting anxiety experienced on a first date. Murat said not to worry about anything, and I am not. That was yesterday. There was the sinking what-the-hell-am-I-going-to-do feeling yesterday. Now, as we prepare to land in Tunis, it’s too late to think about that. It’s game time and there’s nothing to lose.

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Current Mood: Esctatic

Don’t worry mother, I am not in jail, nor was there any real chance of me going to jail, but we did have a little run in with the cops last night.

Let’s see, where to begin. I went into the city to go to some opening with Izzy. When that fell through we decided to meet up with Tahsin and Leyla who were planning to play some beer pong - Leyla is the cute girl I met on the airplane on my way back to Turkey last week. She has been hanging out with us. Izzy and I bought beer and met up with Tahsin at his place, Leyla joined a bit later.

After winning every game I played, we were out of beer, so we decided to go and get more. Tahsin’s house, Tahsin’s car, Tahsin would drive. This was our faux pas. We hadn’t had too many beers, but Tahsin probably shouldn’t have been driving. Izzy was in the best shape of all of us, and he was all for taking a cab. But Tahsin was insistent.

Behind the wheel, Tahsin drives like a maniac. He was driving too fast and passing every car he could (keep in mind Istanbul’s roads are very narrow and windy). Tahsin may have been showing off to the two Americans (Leyla and I), because he does not normally drive anything like that. Izzy and I of course told Tahsin to stop and to drive normally - we were just going around the corner so there was no need to drive fast. Furthermore, why draw attention to yourself if you are driving and you’ve had a few?

On one botched pass attempt, Tahsin came face to face with a police car coming in the other direction. He quickly moved back to his lane, avoiding collision. Two minutes later or so, the police were behind us, they pulled us over and began questioning Tahsin. According to Turkish law, you have to carry ID at all times. I used my ISIC card (international student identification card), but Leyla didn’t have one. The police said they would have to take her to the police station. They also said they would wait for the traffic police to show up so they could give Tahsin a breathalyzer.

Leyla was freaking out - she called her sister and said to come right away with her ID - Izzy and I were annoyed by the situation and Tahsin was angry. He was confrontational with the police (certainly not the approach to take with police as I am sure anybody who was in a fraternity can tell you), which just made matters worse. I actually wasn’t too worried. It’s like when I got tear gassed, I thought it was great. Here was something very out of the ordinary, something very new, something exciting and interesting. I relished every minute of it. I of course didn’t want us to get in trouble, but I had a lot of money so I figured worst comes to worst we’d end up bribing them. Maybe it was beer on the brain, but I was highly entertained by the whole situation.

After Izzy and I told Tahsin to shut up and Izzy talked to the cops, the attitude of the cops seemed to get better. Izzy is a very likeable guy and very non-confrontational which I think helped a lot. Eventually, Leyla’s sister, Berna, arrived with her passport, and after a total of 45 minutes they told us the traffic police wouldn’t be coming, and that they would escort us back to Tahsin’s place. Berna, Tahsin, Leyla, Izzy and myself all piled into Tahsin’s car (Tahsin still driving), and drove home.

This however did not deter us from our mission to get more beer. Riled up from the confrontation with the police, Tahsin wanted to immediately turn around with his car and go back out. We blocked his car from leaving and Leyla, Berna and Tahsin went up to Tahsin’s flat while Izzy and I got more beer. We played beer pong until 330 AM and then took a cab home. I am at work now, a bit hung over, but still on a high from the police encounter. I am sure Tahsin is at work hurting as welll. The other three all get to sleep late.

On a side note, i am very excited about my next few days. Here’s my schedule:

Friday night (today): Berna’s birthday party from 7pm-1130pm. There will be beer pong tables!

Friday late night: After that go out in Taksim, or hangout at Tahsin’s again. Probably beat everybody in beer pong again. I would like to meet up with my friend Nail who came back to Turkey last week.

Saturday daytime: Boat party on Izzy’s yacht. I came up with this idea last night when we happened to pass Izzy’s 60 foot yacht on our way to Tahsin’s. I am VERY EXCITED! Hopefully we’ll invite people tonight and have a good outing tomorrow on the boat.

Saturday night: I have an 8pm dinner reservation at a nice place near the sea. This is assuming we get back with the boat on time, which I am not sure we will.

Saturday late night: Meet up with Basar, one of my fraternity brother’s who returned from CMU last week, maybe Kutsal also (another friend from Sigma Nu). Probably go out in Taksim, or play beer pong at Tahsin’s.

Sunday: Recover. I was going to play tennis with Tahsin but he hurt his back. I will play soccer, hopefully try to go rock climbing, or hang out on Izzy’s boat.

Monday: Three-day business trip to Tunis! Woo! I am going to Sfax Tunis to meet with a distributor there.

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Current Mood: Happy

Fear not! This entry is not actually about traffic, nor is it very long. Well maybe it does have something to do with traffic. As I am learning more and more about Turkey, I am really beginning to appreciate the… small differences. One such difference came to my attention last night.

Yesterday I was invited to a nice dinner at a luxury resort near to where I live (it was only 15-20 minutes drive from here). Everything was excellent (far better than spending the evening at home, or around mimarsinan and buyukecekmece). When I finally got around to leaving it was nearly midnight so there were not many cars on the road. In fact, the highway was nearly deserted except for the occasional car.

The funny thing about the roads around Istanbul is the small side roads running against the flow of traffic. From what I can tell, these roads serve two purposes:

1. They provide easier access to shopping centers and other places people might really want to get to.

2. They act as a way of turning around. Since there aren’t many ways to cross over the highways, you can take these small side roads, against traffic, until the next crossover, roundabout, bridge or whatever.

This looks inefficient and confusing at first – I am sure there is a better way of doing it so that there can be more highway lanes in each direction – but I suppose Istanbul is an old city, and they started doing these at some point because there weren’t other economical solutions. This assumes thought went into the road system, something I am very skeptical of.

Now picture this; I am driving home, it’s night, it’s dark, there aren’t many cars around, but it’s still somewhat urban. Since it’s a highway I am going fast. After about the third car I encountered on the road, I realized when I switched my brights off that the difficulty I am having seeing is because there are no street lights.

I realize that Long Island, New York is the kind of place that has excellent infrastructure, and I have driven on the roads in Vermont that have no streetlights, but that was the middle of nowhere. The road from here to Silivri is lined with buildings, so it should fall somewhere in the middle. If something had been in the road, I don’t think I would have been able to stop in time with out my brights on.

What makes this all amusing, is that all the feeder roads from here to Silivri are lined with street lamps! Why!? They are not close enough to the main road to shed light on both roads, although I am sure they could have been built that way. My guess it is because they are next to housing developments and the homes wanted well lit streets all around. Seriously though, how can you not light the highway in a heavily trafficked area?

Ok, I am done. Here is a picture of me with my new office decoration. Until my poster gets here, that will have to do.

And here’s another picture form my brother’s graduation. Those are my father’s parents, my parents, graham, his girl friend Elise and myself! (My dad is wearing a traditional Afghan hat. I have no idea why).

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So, someone asked about how to call me here in Turkey. I posted my cellphone number, but since then I have a line in my apartment. I am posting part of the message I sent so that anyone who would to reach me can do so.

<<<

On weekends, my cellphone is a good bet. It is more expensive to call a cellphone, but I never know where I am going to be so I don’t know what to tell you. I try to keep it on at all times, but no one calls me, so I am always forgetting about it:
011 90 539 474 4817

During the week in the evenings here, you can call my apartment which is a fixed line and much cheaper to call than my cellphone:
011 90 212 863 0752

Try and be aware of the day you are calling and the time you are calling. I usually do not get home during the week until after 6pm. On weekends I am out all night it seems.

>>>

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Current Mood: Esctatic

I am back from my week in the US. It was an exhausting week. I had to take care of some stuff for my Turkish visa, visit a ton of people (Amy, Andra, Eddy, Dave, Jennie, Andy, Kat, Jeremy, Lukasz, Rahul, Kim, my cousins (John, Dawn and Grant), my grand parents, Katie, Jennie (different Jennie), Nick, Rina, Dan, Jessica and Liz), pick up things for my friends here in Turkey and go to my brother’s graduation. I didn’t really get too much sleep while I was home. It was nice to be home, and it was great being able to see so many of my friends in such a short period of time.

My trip home was very long and exhausting. I was already very tired from the my week in the US, and I was dreading the 10 hour over night flight. I knew the flight was full, so I got there very early so I could be sure to get an exit row, which I did. With about an hour to go before flight time, Delta announced it had over sold the flight and that they needed volunteers to give up their seats.

I figured what the heck, it could be worth it. I didn’t ‘need’ to be back on that day. It seems like I am always waiting on things in Turkey, one time they could wait on me. Starting with me several people volunteered to give up our seats. They processed my $400 voucher (for use only on Delta) and took my ticket. Before they could process anyone else’s refund, things seemed to get very disorganized. They had told us we could leave only 3 hours later on a different direct flight, then they said we would have to stop in Milan, then they said there was a problem with both of those flights. I was annoyed, but I had 400 bucks in my hand.

With about 15 minutes to go before takeoff, there were only the four or five people who hadn’t given up their tickets waiting. The agent suddenly told us that we could board the plane and assigned us all seats. Apparently it wasn’t full. He said I could keep the voucher. When I complained that I had given up my sweet exit row seat, he said there were three empty seats left on the plane and that I could have all three to myself! Talk about good luck!

I ended up not sitting by myself. I asked a cute girl I had been talking to in the airport if she wanted to sit with me, which was nicer than having three seats to myself.

When I got back, I got the message from Murat that I should just take a cab because he couldn’t pick me up. I got back, did a bit of catch up on work, then went straight home and passed out. Slept something like 14 hours (in two sleep periods) since then. Still a bit groggy though.

In other news:

Murat left for vacation today.

Congrats Graham on your graduation.

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If there is one thing that visitors to Istanbul will remember, it’s the traffic. There is always a lot of traffic, especially as you get in closer to the city center. Places like Levant, Besiktas, Taksim, Kadikoy always seem to be choking on traffic, night and day. On May 14th, a ferry will begin running from where I live to Besiktas, which I am hoping will make my life easier. Hopefully I will be able to take it and dodge the traffic that we always hit going into the city. Since I usually stay on the European side with friends there, my commute isn’t as bad as Murat’s. He must cross one of two bridges that connect the two continents, and there is ALWAYS traffic at the bridge.

There are several factors, from what I know, that lead to Istanbul’s traffic problem. The first is obvious: over-population. Istanbul is built on two kissing peninsula’s. As the city grows, it can only grow to the west on the European side, and to the east on the Asian side, yet everyone still wants to be in the city. With people constantly trying to move in and out of the city, and routes connecting the two continents very limited, this puts a lot of cars on the road.

The second factor that amplifies all the problems caused by the first is poor design. Murat agrees with me that very little urban planning appears to have gone into Istanbul. With explosive growth for the past 20 years, people have built and built to meet the insatiable demand for industry, apartments, and offices. In the past developers would start building without permits in empty space (sometimes without actually owning the land). Once completed, the government would grant them ownership. With everybody and their mother throwing up buildings and supporting infrastructure, little thought went into the overall infrastructure of the city. No trams were built, no subways and no trains. Furthermore, because of a decision approximately 50 years ago, to follow the US model of highway building, Turkey also has terrible railway infrastructure.

The third factor is, as Murat puts it, “everyone drives like retards.” Cairo still takes the cake when it comes to the worst drivers I have ever seen, but Istanbul is a respectable second. While not the utter lawlessness of Cairo, Istanbul still has its share of rampant traffic violations. In the city, second lanes become places to park, with miles of cars illegally parked. Parking police come around, with a special kind of truck that lifts random cars from the tightly packed lines and carries them off. But this doesn’t change parking habits. Rather than spend the time to find a legal parking spot, most seem satisfied to risk having their car carried off. People will stop in the road, put their hazards on, and pop into a bar or café for an ice cream, or to catch the closing minutes of a soccer match.

Cab drivers, as usual, contribute their own special disruption to traffic flow. I’ve seen them stop in the middle of the road, completely indifferent to the frustrated honks behind them, to ask for directions, or to pick up a fair. I have seen an entire line of cars not move an inch at a green light because of a cab.

The government has taken some steps to curb this problem. There are so many taxes on cars that often people end up paying double their normal value. This is a logical deterrent to car ownership. There is a cap on building height in many parts of the city, which leads to a lower density of people (tall office buildings have many works, all of whom need to park their cars somewhere). But these seem to do very little. What happens instead is a law stating that in the event of an accident, neither party can move their car until the police have made their report, cripples the flow of traffic. From what I have seen, minor traffic bumps can quickly lead to several kilometers of stalled traffic. Investments are feeble at best proportional to the size of the city. The private sector has stepped in where profitable with the small, but convenient dolmus, and ferries throughout the Bosporus.

Instead of consider a massive public transportation overhaul – which may be unviable due to the age and density of Istanbul – the government has talked of taxing people to come and go from Istanbul. Now, this information is comes to me second hand, so I am not sure how seriously it is being considered, but will it really do much? If over 100% taxes on cars have not deterred people from driving will this tax make a difference? Does it matter if this tax were to be applied as a variable cost to consumers or as a fixed cost (like the taxes on the cars)? Indonesia has had a lot of success with a similar plan, and if Mayor Bloomberg has his way, New Yorkers may be paying $8 to enter the US south of 82nd street (source: The Economist). At least it will raise revenue to fund further infrastructure improvements.

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Now this brings me to what I find amusing about Istanbul’s dreadful traffic. In all these traffic jams, there are always guys walking around selling stuff. Looking at the economic costs of traffic – things like time lost, stress generated, petrol resources wasted – is interesting, and can lead to a valid argument for more investment, but it’s the same argument in every city. Istanbul however, has a small micro-economy that thrives on the traffic jams. When traffic stops, an army of vendors descends from nowhere, filling in the tight spaces on the nearly motionless roads roads.

In my experience, this is unique to Istanbul. I have been in many cities, and nowhere else have I seen this. It’s like being at a baseball game; there is hot dog guy, beer guy, water guy, cracker jacks guy and so on. The convenience and the price hike are the same. In Istanbul however, there are slightly different products for sale as you sit, watching for the car in front of you to move. In fact, I would say it is almost as excruciating as watching a baseball game, or perhaps golf (There is less excitement, but better music). Just like in baseball, there is the occasional burst of excitement when things picks up, only slow again. Just like in baseball, you are dying for a drink to keep things interesting. Just like in baseball, afterwards you are exhausted and don’t want to do anything. Finally, a good traffic jam takes about as long as baseball.

Sorry, I got a bit side tracked there. I enjoy this traffic-baseball metaphor. Let’s get back to our small traffic economy. Now, I am not an economist, but I took some economics, and in general it’s pretty straightforward. If there is demand, there will usually be a supply that tries to meet that demand, right? At least if it is profitable to meet the demand, there will be a supply. So let’s look at this groups three key products: water, jumbo-pretzel-bread things (not really sure what they are) and cell phone car chargers.

Water: It’s Istanbul, it’s hot, it’s dry, and most people don’t take water with them incase the ride home from work gets long and grueling so naturally people get thirsty. Since tap water isn’t very good quality, bottled water is a necessity. Almost any service of this kind is going to supply water, but it seems to especially have a foothold in the markets that are Istanbul’s traffic jams.

If there was a slightly wider variety of products, one could say that the traffic jams turn into a kind of bazaar. Imagine that, you could buy a kebab, or birthday card, or earrings for your wife, all while stuck in traffic! Wouldn’t that be grand! It could be one of the great wonders of the world. Like the nomads of the US Midwest, Istanbul’s traffic-jam markets would come and go with the traffic.

Accidents would of course be the biggest catalyst for their business. Traffic is one thing, but it’s car accidents that really bring things to a grinding halt. In fact, there is even incentive here for them to cause car accidents! Imagine the unionized workers of Istanbul’s traffic-jam markets hurling goats (or something else) into traffic, creating planned traffic jams at prime hours. With the way Turkey’s traffic laws work, they could even take two of their own cars and bump them together. I wonder if they would make a blog so people could pick up the schedule? Could turf wars over the best routes develop?

Jumbo-pretzel-bread things: Food, everyone wants food. Driving home from work and you get stuck in traffic for two hours, of course you are going to get hungry. This is a no brainer. I haven’t tried these yet, because frankly, they don’t look too appetizing, but everyone else must like them. I would prefer a New York City hot dog – or better yet a Jimmy Dog from Hazleton PA – but I guess that’s not a reasonable request in a Muslim country (remember, no pork).

Cell phone car chargers: This is the product that interests me. In order for this to be one of the top three selling products on the street, there has to be significant demand for it. That means more than flashy light things, beads, necklaces and most surprisingly ice cream. How can cell phone chargers beat out ice cream and flashy light things? I asked myself this same question and came up with the following answer, which wonderfully illustrates Istanbul’s traffic.

Cell phone chargers are useful for one thing: charging your phone when you are in the car. This is especially useful for people who spend a lot of time in the car on the phone. People like Kenan, who drives a lot for his job, have use for one of these. But that’s not really a sizeable market in my mind. Your average traveler on his way home from work wouldn’t really have need for one of these, right? With a good charge, you can get 2, 3, 4 hours of talk time out of cell phones these days, maybe more. That should be more than adequate for even the longest commutes home. By this thinking there wouldn’t be much demand unless… you were stuck in traffic for a really long time. Therein lies the answer. You get stuck in traffic for a really long time and if you are chatting on the phone to pass the time, you need a charger. Imagine being stuck in traffic so long that you need to recharge your phone! If that doesn’t give you an appreciation for Istanbul traffic, you will just have to come visit me and see for yourself.

Ok, I am done. I hope my little essay here was coherent (it has been awhile since I attempted any formal writing). If you made it this far, time for a treat. Last night, while I was doing some exercise, Baris asked if I had any shorts, which I didn’t. Since Murat wasn’t around, Baris went looking through Murat’s stuff for a pair of shorts. I could hear Baris talking about not being able to find shorts but I didn’t pay too much attention. What happened next put me in tears with laughter.

Baris came out wearing what was most definitely women’s workout pants. They were very tight, and too short for him. He looked at me and said, “Hey, I have never seen Murat wear these.” I just hit the floor laughing.

In summary, traffic sucks, and Baris cross dresses.

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Current Mood: Confused

Hmmmm, I am not quite sure how to begin this one. Let’s start with Friday. If you have been regularly reading this blog you will know that I was in Izmir on Friday on business. Since we did not return until late, my weekend really only consisted of Saturday.I spent a large chunk of my free daylight hours stuck in the worst traffic I have seen since I got here. I have started driving from time to time to get used to the way things work here. I have been gradually building road confidence. Saturday was a grueling three hours of inching along under a hot sun, Murat praying the whole way we would arrive before the night’s big match. Besiktas (the team that Murat, Izzy, Tahsin, Ahmet Asci and Kemal Asci support) was playing Fenerbayche (haven’t meat anyone that supports them yet). Trailing by one point with only a few games left in the season, Besiktas’ home match against Fenerbayche was viewed as the deciding factor in the Turkish league this year. Thus, Besiktas (the area of the city, not the team) was a mad house.

Let me come back to that part of the story because it is by far the most interesting part. Let me quickly say that we made it with about 60-90 minutes until game time. The stadium was of course nearly full. The super fans of Besiktas begin preparing themselves (ie drinking a lot) many hours before the game, and begin fill the stadium with song sometimes several hours before game time. They really are in love with their team.

Izzy and I watched the game, and much to his disappointment, Besiktas lost. Afterwards though, we went to Pano, a wine bar that makes its own wine in Taksim (Istanbul’s party central). It was classy, the wine was good and the selection was one of the best I have seen in Turkey so far (that’s not saying much). Best of all, it was cheap.

Just as I did last weekend, I stayed at Tahsin’s place, I played soccer on Sunday – the wine hang over made it one of my worst 60 minutes of play in a long time – and had lunch by the sea. Before I left the US, I had jokingly asked Kristen (a friend from high school) if she knew anyone in Turkey. Surprisingly she did; a girl by the name of Max. So Sunday I met with Max for a few hours to browse a local market and have lunch. It was nice.

Now we come to the interesting part of my story. The hour and a half between when Murat went into the stadium, and I met with Izzy, was an interesting cultural experience. I was walking through Besiktas (the part of the city) admiring all the fans and how passionate they were about their team. As I headed north, away from the stadium, the crowd seemed to get thicker and thicker (I know, it’s counter-intuitive) to the point that I couldn’t move. I stood a few minutes in the drunk and rowdy crowd waiting for a path to open up so I could keep moving.

Suddenly the noise level rose, and the crowd began moving… at least the front of it did. Scores of people crashed into the people behind them, fleeing from some unseen danger. Unable to really go anywhere, I stood there, watching people crash into the rows of un-phased spectators, coughing, rubbing their eyes, some choking.

That’s when it hit me. First a strange odor in the air that had a tangy flavor to it, like very acidic vinegar, then full blown burning. My eyes, nose, throat and mouth all began burning unbearably. Row by row, the tear gas infiltrated the crowd sending everyone blindly fleeing. All the shopkeepers, clearly wiser than I, had blocked or locked their doors denying the afflicted a quick escape. By the time I got far enough away from the cloud, my eyes and all the skin around them were burning, my nose was running, and I was coughing and sneezing. I realized shortly afterwards that the fans had been blocking the road and throwing things at the police who were trying to clear the road for the players’ bus to get through.

Of course I can’t be sure it was tear gas, but I did gather some proof several minutes later. Now fascinated by the crowd’s epic battle against police I watched from what I thought was a safe distance. The crowd charged forward, hurling anything they could find at the police. The police would then form a line and rush forward, sending the crowd fleeing. Without any projectiles, the police were somewhat powerless to quell the crowd. That’s when I saw the tear gas canister come arcing over head, as if shot from a mortar. It settled somewhere in the middle of the crowd, unfortunately not very far from where I was. Before I was once again blinded by the tear gas, I saw one brave soul, his face covered, run forward, pick up the canister, and hurl it forward into the wall of police. At this point, I had had enough. Two tear gassings was enough for one day.

In summary, I have been in Turkey five or six weeks and the following has happened:
1. I have been tear-gassed
2. Tear-gassed again
3. Turkey has gone into political the worst political crisis in a long time
4….

That’s not such a bad list with just three right? I can’t even imagine what will happen when I get back to the USA (if I ever do. My flight is delayed 4 hours, so far).

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