An American Life in Istanbul

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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