Most third world countries, after being stripped of natural resources or independent financial markets (through various forms of imperialism), turned to tourism as a means to bring money into their suffering economies. There are hundreds of examples of this, so I'll leave it in the intrepid hands of the curious to study the cases themselves, but for the point of this story, it's important to understand that Turkey is one such country.
In an effort to better receive foreign visitors, Turkey has opened vocational high schools specializing in tourism, hotel management, and translating. Millions of dollars have been spent improving transportation in the areas tourists are most likely to visit, and the advertising effort has likewise cost millions.
Every part of the culture is up for sale: carpets, Ottoman style clothes, tickets to view Dervish religious ceremonies, and even Kurdish head scarves (a political symbol now turned fashion statement).
Turkey has probably done much more to attract tourists, but I'm not a tourist, so I don't really know. I live here. When I travel, I usually hitch-hike, stay with friends or in shitty motels, and eat stuff I buy at local markets. My knowledge of the industry is mostly limited to what I've read about in the papers or heard from friends. I haven't even been inside the Blue Mosque, and I've lived here for 3 years.
I could criticize the problem further, but like I said, I don't really know... Instead, the observation of my friend, the carpet seller, seems to sum up the main problem with this situation.
"If tourists don't come, or can't come, they don't buy the wares that pay my bills. So, I can't spend money in my economy on the things I need and want."
This was in 2004, when the tourism industry in Turkey was still suffering from post-September 11th fallout: people still too afraid to travel to a "Muslim" country.
Now, there's a worse problem... people just can't afford to do it. The link visits an image tracking Americans' projected travel plans since 1968. This year has brought the lowest figure in four decades. I wish I could find the same data for Europeans.
Carpet sales will probably decline, and I suppose I shouldn't expect any visitors, either. Those who still wish to travel might find these links helpful:
For the penniless
For the homeless
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
You, me and the AKP...
I don't support their politics, their policies, or their vision of Turkey, but the Justice and Development Party (AKP) seems to have the support of the Turkish people, and I won't just shrug that off. Islamist parties have, in the last twenty years, been the only recognized and "acceptable" political opposition to the secular and liberal military/elite leadership, and as their democratic support has grown, so has their acceptability declined.
The Islamists, again and again, get organized, recognized, and voted into power on platforms based on the very same traditional, religious, family values, that the evangelical right has been famous for in the United States. It just has an Islamic twist (it comes with head scarves!). All the time, these parties are hounded by the military and elites, who claim that "secularism is under attack", "Atatürk's legacy will be undone", and "they will have us all wearing head scarves!"
Any or all of these claims may be true, and probably are. I'll make a list of what the AKP has done later. Yet, given the crimes that the military and wealthy elites have inflicted on the rest of the populace, I don't really trust them to be the healthy alternative for the future of the Turkish people.
There was a time when widespread, popular support for both political and militant leftist groups gave the wealthy minority serious cause for concern. The force required to instate Turkey's most recent constitution (circa 1982), was directed primarily against labor unions, leftist lawyers and journalists, and most anyone else trying to resist the coup d'etat. I have spent hours writing about this period, as it was the subject of my Fulbright research. Instead, I'll just say that it invoked my sympathy. Wikipedia has a reasonable, quick-and-dirty on the subject.
In the aftermath of the violence, there frankly wasn't much of the left left, at least not as an activist political body that could be a foil for the right. Many of its leaders were banned from politics and the unions were not permitted to organize. During the period, two revolutionary reforms were initiated: Islamic religious classes were made a mandatory part of the school curriculum, and the rapid (indeed catastrophic) liberalization of the economy was undertaken. The idea was prop up Islam as the opposition to class-based ideologies, and with the help of foreign investment, create an Islamic capitalist-class (known as "Green capital"). Turkey went up for sale, and it worked...
... for the most part. It has had the unforeseen consequence of creating an empowered, well-funded, traditional and religious political bloc, that more than fills the vacuum of the left. The first generation of post-coup children graduated from high school in 2000. They are going to universities and advocating for the right to wear the headscarf on campuses. They even succeeded briefly, this year, before the courts reinstated the ban. This group will continue to be very politically active, as they perceive themselves (and probably are) both the majority and the oppressed.
Neither the Islamists nor the secular elite appear particularly concerned about the economy. The present show-down between the military and the AKP, which has scared foreign investors and caused a drop in the lira, is an indication that the the elite establishment thinks it is more important to harry Islamists than it is to yield to democracy.
As a leftist friend likes to say, when the traditional and liberal elements of the political right are fighting, "İtler ve köpekler birbirine yiyorlar". Turkish has two words for dog, so roughly: "The dogs are eating the dogs".
The Islamists, again and again, get organized, recognized, and voted into power on platforms based on the very same traditional, religious, family values, that the evangelical right has been famous for in the United States. It just has an Islamic twist (it comes with head scarves!). All the time, these parties are hounded by the military and elites, who claim that "secularism is under attack", "Atatürk's legacy will be undone", and "they will have us all wearing head scarves!"
Any or all of these claims may be true, and probably are. I'll make a list of what the AKP has done later. Yet, given the crimes that the military and wealthy elites have inflicted on the rest of the populace, I don't really trust them to be the healthy alternative for the future of the Turkish people.
There was a time when widespread, popular support for both political and militant leftist groups gave the wealthy minority serious cause for concern. The force required to instate Turkey's most recent constitution (circa 1982), was directed primarily against labor unions, leftist lawyers and journalists, and most anyone else trying to resist the coup d'etat. I have spent hours writing about this period, as it was the subject of my Fulbright research. Instead, I'll just say that it invoked my sympathy. Wikipedia has a reasonable, quick-and-dirty on the subject.
In the aftermath of the violence, there frankly wasn't much of the left left, at least not as an activist political body that could be a foil for the right. Many of its leaders were banned from politics and the unions were not permitted to organize. During the period, two revolutionary reforms were initiated: Islamic religious classes were made a mandatory part of the school curriculum, and the rapid (indeed catastrophic) liberalization of the economy was undertaken. The idea was prop up Islam as the opposition to class-based ideologies, and with the help of foreign investment, create an Islamic capitalist-class (known as "Green capital"). Turkey went up for sale, and it worked...
... for the most part. It has had the unforeseen consequence of creating an empowered, well-funded, traditional and religious political bloc, that more than fills the vacuum of the left. The first generation of post-coup children graduated from high school in 2000. They are going to universities and advocating for the right to wear the headscarf on campuses. They even succeeded briefly, this year, before the courts reinstated the ban. This group will continue to be very politically active, as they perceive themselves (and probably are) both the majority and the oppressed.
Neither the Islamists nor the secular elite appear particularly concerned about the economy. The present show-down between the military and the AKP, which has scared foreign investors and caused a drop in the lira, is an indication that the the elite establishment thinks it is more important to harry Islamists than it is to yield to democracy.
As a leftist friend likes to say, when the traditional and liberal elements of the political right are fighting, "İtler ve köpekler birbirine yiyorlar". Turkish has two words for dog, so roughly: "The dogs are eating the dogs".
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Ankara: A taxi driver's advice
This didn't happen to me, but a German-Turk (we'll call him Ahmet), also living in Ankara temporarily, told me this story about his arrival...
With two German colleagues, all piled into a taxi and driving from the airport to the hotel, Ahmet struck up a conversation with the driver. Ahmet was the only Turkish speaker of the three of them, and having grown up in Germany, didn't know his way around Ankara. As they wrapped up the formalities, his colleague interrupted to ask about attractions in the city, things to go, see, and do. Ahmet translated the question.
The driver went silent and thought for a minute...
And another minute...
And another...
In German, the colleague asked Ahmet, "What did you say to him?"
Then the driver suddenly burst out, "Ah, I know. You can go to the zoo!"
With two German colleagues, all piled into a taxi and driving from the airport to the hotel, Ahmet struck up a conversation with the driver. Ahmet was the only Turkish speaker of the three of them, and having grown up in Germany, didn't know his way around Ankara. As they wrapped up the formalities, his colleague interrupted to ask about attractions in the city, things to go, see, and do. Ahmet translated the question.
The driver went silent and thought for a minute...
And another minute...
And another...
In German, the colleague asked Ahmet, "What did you say to him?"
Then the driver suddenly burst out, "Ah, I know. You can go to the zoo!"
Monday, June 23, 2008
Correction...
I previously posted that the Turkish court system has banned Youtube.com twice, for violations (by users) of various laws, which forbid denigrating Turkey, Turkishness, the Turkish government, courts, or military, or Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. There are several laws that YouTube could have been charged with violating... not actually sure which one, but most likely Article 301. Read about it here and here.
The Turkish court has, in fact, protected me from YouTube on no less than five occasions. This, according to the Turkish newspaper, Radikal, which I was attempting to read through sometime last week.
Thanks to these benevolent assholes, I'm having difficulty watching George Carlin clips, which seemed like a good way to remember the man. I'll try to dig around and find out which seven words cannot be spoken or written in Turkish...
The Turkish court has, in fact, protected me from YouTube on no less than five occasions. This, according to the Turkish newspaper, Radikal, which I was attempting to read through sometime last week.
Thanks to these benevolent assholes, I'm having difficulty watching George Carlin clips, which seemed like a good way to remember the man. I'll try to dig around and find out which seven words cannot be spoken or written in Turkish...
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Are there leftists in the United States?
Turkish leftists, most of them anyway, do not believe that there are leftists in the United States, and I have been hard pressed to prove them wrong.
Since much of my own ideological development took place in Turkey, and is thus more informed by Turkish definitions, I should probably define the terms "left" and "leftist". Mine isn't a narrow definition, but it is more narrow than Wikipedia's (which is cute in a lot of ways). Simply, I believe the terms admit a rejection of capitalism as a desirable economic system.
I can't place things on a political line, though I used to find this really nice, and then later, really convenient. Now it seems, well, childish. I think that Americans view the political spectrum like this:
A critical take on the line reveals the lack of any fixed political value, so the whole thing is only relative to itself. It wanders. For instance, Republicans can rail against universal health care, now, but to President Nixon it was a peachy idea.
Also, the line mentions only the major American political parties and assumes that basic American political and bureaucratic structures are necessary, if not desirable (i.e. bicameral legislature, executive and judicial branches, standing army, capitalist economics). The line dismisses the parties' espoused political values or goals, and fails to account for the structures of power within the political discourse. In short, the line tells me nothing.
The line's usefulness lies in the ability, of people in power, to ascribe moral values (usually Good and Bad) to the objects on the line, and thus frame their political opponent(s) accordingly. If Left = Bad, and Democrats = Left, it follows that Democrats = Bad, and so on. In mathematics, this is called the transitive property, and it comes up fairly often in our absurd political theater.
I basically became a leftist when I watched how American small towns were being taken by the WalMart phenomenon. I was 20 and living in a small town. I had no ideology, just a budding sense that people with little control over their local economy, over their home, well, just aren't really free people. I didn't grow into my own as a leftist until I had lived in Turkey. Time spent studying the Turkish left helped me gain a sense of ideology where I am comfortable with the history of the global movement, the questions it answers, and those it does not. So, I find a different political line practical, though anything practical or efficient is hardly democratic or honest. Anyhow, here it is:
I won't talk about other political spectra, which are many and more complicated than just political lines. I want to get to the story:
I've heard talk of several conversations in which American leftists were pushed to prove that they really were true Leftists, or "Solcu", (I capitalize this because it sounds like a Platonic Form). I generally find Turkish people are much better informed about the political/ideological spectrum. This is probably a result of the myriad forces that have acted on Turks in the last century. Several, in no particular order: etatism, the Turkish military, other militaries, capitalism, colonialism, Islam and Political Islam, the left (everything from Lenin to Mao), ethnic conflict, etc. Go through all that, and I suppose a person would have a broader view of things. Then again, I may just have smart friends.
I've never been pressed to prove my ideological commitment, as such. Turks just seem to know where I'm coming from. On two occasions, Turkish friends have outed me as a leftist without my having said so to them, and both times when the subject of conversation wasn't remotely political. The reference to my politics seemed part of a strangely nationalist narrative.
"Look here, this is Democracy. Americans can learn from Turkey." The narrative goes. "We have Turks and Americans sitting and talking together; you are a socialist, I'm a Muslim, and he's a police officer. Where else could such diversity mingle than in Turkey?"
Even more telling was the reaction I once got when asking for directions. As I wandered in Kadıköy, on the Asian side of Istanbul, I got lost with a Turkish girlfriend. We were looking for the Nazım Hikmet Cultural Center, a beautiful memorial to the Turkish and communist poet, Nazım Hikmet. Someone was passing out political pamphlets nearby, and we asked for directions to the center, while taking one. The boy, who was my age but with a thick mustache, narrowed his eyes and in a rude tone said simply, "Why would I know that?"
I looked at the pamphlet, and realized it was for a MHP (Nationalist Movement Party) rally. The kid knew what we were looking for, and that if we were looking for a communist library and cafe, we were probably communists, too.
On the subject of proving yourself, a friend told me a story about his experience in Samsun. He was talking politics with the owner of a "menemenci". The place was, quite literally, a closet-sized shop, with some stools and a counter, behind which two men were cooking a Turkish scrambled egg dish on a propane stove. The dish, menemen, was the only one on the menu, and it is generally associated with the working class. My friend sized up the place, and the people patronizing it, and gambled he would meet some folks from his own political ilk.
The men couldn't believe my friend knew anything about the left, generally, much less about the Turkish left. After the formality of accusing him of being a spy, they settled down to actually discuss his politics and why he was a leftist, and his experience of being a leftist in the United States (Turkish leftists regard the US as a frightening and unstoppable fascist behemoth).
Their first question: "How long were you imprisoned?"
I haven't met a Turkish leftist who didn't go to jail, and most of them were tortured or spent several years in prison. It casts my own political beliefs, and those of others', in a new light... the subtext of course being, if you don't go to prison, you're not being politically active. Instead, you just have opinions. What good are opinions when you need to change the world?
Since much of my own ideological development took place in Turkey, and is thus more informed by Turkish definitions, I should probably define the terms "left" and "leftist". Mine isn't a narrow definition, but it is more narrow than Wikipedia's (which is cute in a lot of ways). Simply, I believe the terms admit a rejection of capitalism as a desirable economic system.
I can't place things on a political line, though I used to find this really nice, and then later, really convenient. Now it seems, well, childish. I think that Americans view the political spectrum like this:
A critical take on the line reveals the lack of any fixed political value, so the whole thing is only relative to itself. It wanders. For instance, Republicans can rail against universal health care, now, but to President Nixon it was a peachy idea.Also, the line mentions only the major American political parties and assumes that basic American political and bureaucratic structures are necessary, if not desirable (i.e. bicameral legislature, executive and judicial branches, standing army, capitalist economics). The line dismisses the parties' espoused political values or goals, and fails to account for the structures of power within the political discourse. In short, the line tells me nothing.
The line's usefulness lies in the ability, of people in power, to ascribe moral values (usually Good and Bad) to the objects on the line, and thus frame their political opponent(s) accordingly. If Left = Bad, and Democrats = Left, it follows that Democrats = Bad, and so on. In mathematics, this is called the transitive property, and it comes up fairly often in our absurd political theater.
I basically became a leftist when I watched how American small towns were being taken by the WalMart phenomenon. I was 20 and living in a small town. I had no ideology, just a budding sense that people with little control over their local economy, over their home, well, just aren't really free people. I didn't grow into my own as a leftist until I had lived in Turkey. Time spent studying the Turkish left helped me gain a sense of ideology where I am comfortable with the history of the global movement, the questions it answers, and those it does not. So, I find a different political line practical, though anything practical or efficient is hardly democratic or honest. Anyhow, here it is:
I won't talk about other political spectra, which are many and more complicated than just political lines. I want to get to the story:
I've heard talk of several conversations in which American leftists were pushed to prove that they really were true Leftists, or "Solcu", (I capitalize this because it sounds like a Platonic Form). I generally find Turkish people are much better informed about the political/ideological spectrum. This is probably a result of the myriad forces that have acted on Turks in the last century. Several, in no particular order: etatism, the Turkish military, other militaries, capitalism, colonialism, Islam and Political Islam, the left (everything from Lenin to Mao), ethnic conflict, etc. Go through all that, and I suppose a person would have a broader view of things. Then again, I may just have smart friends.
I've never been pressed to prove my ideological commitment, as such. Turks just seem to know where I'm coming from. On two occasions, Turkish friends have outed me as a leftist without my having said so to them, and both times when the subject of conversation wasn't remotely political. The reference to my politics seemed part of a strangely nationalist narrative.
"Look here, this is Democracy. Americans can learn from Turkey." The narrative goes. "We have Turks and Americans sitting and talking together; you are a socialist, I'm a Muslim, and he's a police officer. Where else could such diversity mingle than in Turkey?"
Even more telling was the reaction I once got when asking for directions. As I wandered in Kadıköy, on the Asian side of Istanbul, I got lost with a Turkish girlfriend. We were looking for the Nazım Hikmet Cultural Center, a beautiful memorial to the Turkish and communist poet, Nazım Hikmet. Someone was passing out political pamphlets nearby, and we asked for directions to the center, while taking one. The boy, who was my age but with a thick mustache, narrowed his eyes and in a rude tone said simply, "Why would I know that?"
I looked at the pamphlet, and realized it was for a MHP (Nationalist Movement Party) rally. The kid knew what we were looking for, and that if we were looking for a communist library and cafe, we were probably communists, too.
On the subject of proving yourself, a friend told me a story about his experience in Samsun. He was talking politics with the owner of a "menemenci". The place was, quite literally, a closet-sized shop, with some stools and a counter, behind which two men were cooking a Turkish scrambled egg dish on a propane stove. The dish, menemen, was the only one on the menu, and it is generally associated with the working class. My friend sized up the place, and the people patronizing it, and gambled he would meet some folks from his own political ilk.
The men couldn't believe my friend knew anything about the left, generally, much less about the Turkish left. After the formality of accusing him of being a spy, they settled down to actually discuss his politics and why he was a leftist, and his experience of being a leftist in the United States (Turkish leftists regard the US as a frightening and unstoppable fascist behemoth).
Their first question: "How long were you imprisoned?"
I haven't met a Turkish leftist who didn't go to jail, and most of them were tortured or spent several years in prison. It casts my own political beliefs, and those of others', in a new light... the subtext of course being, if you don't go to prison, you're not being politically active. Instead, you just have opinions. What good are opinions when you need to change the world?
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
My trip to Bulgaria...
This was written on March 26, of this year. I am posting this here because it so accurately characterizes many of my previous travel experiences in Turkey, and it does so from the perspective of having anticipated the trip's failure (which was, at the time, a first). I'll make an effort to post a, yet unwritten, follow-up of the actual trip.
26.03.2008, 11:27
Those of you who knew that I was going to Bulgaria this morning will find it odd that I've already completed a story about the trip. Here's the secret to my celerity: I missed my bus.
Actually, the service shuttle, that should have taken me to the bus station, left me behind.
This morning is one that started yesterday evening with the prediction, to my room mate Emrah, that I would "wait in the appointed place, at the appointed time" and still miss the shuttle, which would be both late and somewhere else. This sort of thing happens often enough, to me, that I've become good at predicting not merely that something will go wrong, but also the manner in which it will go wrong.
In fact, I even explained to Emrah, that there would be an argument with the driver, or the person who issued my ticket, or someone else, who would tell me that I had misunderstood/been late/been in the wrong place... which is to say, that I was wrong, and not the people or person who gave me poor instructions or didn't show up on time. Blaming the victim is popular in Turkey, too.
So, at 7:20, with all the optimism of a person heading to Bulgaria for three hours, and a packed lunch and books I wouldn't read, and looking forward to falling asleep as soon as I was on board, I waited across the street from the Boğaziçi University South Campus gate. This is important, because last night, both the person who issued my ticket and myself spoke to the service shuttle driver, and we each confirmed twice (four times total) that the shuttle would pick me up across the street from the Boğaziçi University South Campus gate at 7:20.
At 7:25, I knew that I would not be picked up and that I would miss my bus. It wasn't fatalism or pessimism, but experiential knowledge informed by many missed buses, only a few of which I can claim responsibility for.
Still I waited. Despite knowing I was stuck, I chose hope, and remained at the corner, across from the Boğaziçi University South Campus gate for another ten minutes. This impulse to reject one's fate is, perhaps, one of the more peculiar features of the human experience (I could, but prefer not to, cite a list starting with Global Warming and the Iraq War, but alas, time). I waited, consciously yielding to the Fates, but also having no other course of action in mind.
I was also pissed. I never have fun when I'm right about something... which is to say that I am right about only the wrong things.
At 7:35, I dabbled in reversing destiny. Also, I had gotten bored of waiting and knew I would be awake for several more hours (I'm not a morning person, so this is a rare day). I ran home, had Emrah call the bus company, and we both spoke to a man yelling about the shuttle, that it definitely passed Boğaziçi University, but that I shouldn't be waiting there anyway, because the service shuttle leaves from a place nearby there, a "yazı hane", which is a local bureau office. I should emphasize the yelling and the tone, both of which implied that I was a fool, but were additionally difficult to understand. It was at this point that I began to feel victimized.
On Emrah's advice (which I love, because he uses the phrase "As much as I know..." to introduce facts about which he is unsure, although they are almost always correct) I sought out the departure point for the MetroTurizm shuttle bus, and found only a sign and an empty parking spot. The place is less than 100 meters from South Campus, but it is in no way across from the gate, nor visible from there. On the way there, I think I saw the MetroTurizm shuttle disappearing around a bend... can't be too sure though. I jumped at every shuttle that came by this morning, which was a lot of jumping. Shuttles exist for schools and companies and large workplaces, and it seems all of them use the same orange and blue logos and have the word "Turizm" written on them somewhere.
I called the bus company again, with my last phone credits. They connected me to the same man I had spoken with before, who I thought was the shuttle driver. In a breath, he was yelling at me again, and I realized something: When an adult yells at me I really don't like it, because I both feel I'm being treated like a child, and also that the person is absurd (and therefore, probably wrong about whatever information or situation has led them to yell). When I'm yelled at in a foreign language, however, these feelings are coupled with the knowledge that I probably won't understand what is said, and that I am also helpless to have any good comeback or means to assert myself. In Turkish, I can jump from polite, daily language, to swears that Turkish sailors don't use, but I lack the acceptable middle-ground for this sort of a situation.
So, I just got louder and told the man not to speak to me that way, and to stop yelling. At the same time, I thought about the various curses I learned at Beşiktaş matches, things to say about his mother and her affinity for the village donkeys and traveling bands of gypsies. It ended up, that telling him not to yell was sufficient to sate my ego.
I hung up the phone, and got on a city bus heading for Taksim. I figured that, while I was awake, getting my ticket changed would be wise. When the bus got to Beşiktaş, it occurred to me that, rather than go all the way to Taksim, I could go into the office there, which is exactly what I did once I peeled myself out of the bus (rush hour gets crowded here).
The man behind the desk was on the phone, and he had a familiar voice and manner. When he got off the phone, I began my rehearsed explanation for needing a new ticket. He cut me off to clarify that I needed a new ticket, and asked if I was coming from Etiler. At about the same moment, we both realized that we had each yelled at the other over the telephone.
He began yelling about the "yazı hane" before I could react. Taken off guard, and now face to face with the man who had harshed my traveler's mojo, I did something uncharacteristic. I started humbly explaining that this was no way to speak to customers, much less foreign guests of his country. In fact, I asked if he always yelled at people this way. I went on to say that I had spoken with the driver the night before, and been in the right place at the right time, that I didn't want his explanations because I had found the "yazı hane", and I just wanted the same ticket for the next day.
He stopped yelling, became polite and, more importantly, quiet, and issued my ticket.
It all happened in Turkish, haltingly, but still, it felt pretty damn good.
Tomorrow morning, at 7:20, I'll be leaving from the Etiler bureau office by a service shuttle to the central bus station. I'll tell you about it when I get back.
26.03.2008, 11:27
Those of you who knew that I was going to Bulgaria this morning will find it odd that I've already completed a story about the trip. Here's the secret to my celerity: I missed my bus.
Actually, the service shuttle, that should have taken me to the bus station, left me behind.
This morning is one that started yesterday evening with the prediction, to my room mate Emrah, that I would "wait in the appointed place, at the appointed time" and still miss the shuttle, which would be both late and somewhere else. This sort of thing happens often enough, to me, that I've become good at predicting not merely that something will go wrong, but also the manner in which it will go wrong.
In fact, I even explained to Emrah, that there would be an argument with the driver, or the person who issued my ticket, or someone else, who would tell me that I had misunderstood/been late/been in the wrong place... which is to say, that I was wrong, and not the people or person who gave me poor instructions or didn't show up on time. Blaming the victim is popular in Turkey, too.
So, at 7:20, with all the optimism of a person heading to Bulgaria for three hours, and a packed lunch and books I wouldn't read, and looking forward to falling asleep as soon as I was on board, I waited across the street from the Boğaziçi University South Campus gate. This is important, because last night, both the person who issued my ticket and myself spoke to the service shuttle driver, and we each confirmed twice (four times total) that the shuttle would pick me up across the street from the Boğaziçi University South Campus gate at 7:20.
At 7:25, I knew that I would not be picked up and that I would miss my bus. It wasn't fatalism or pessimism, but experiential knowledge informed by many missed buses, only a few of which I can claim responsibility for.
Still I waited. Despite knowing I was stuck, I chose hope, and remained at the corner, across from the Boğaziçi University South Campus gate for another ten minutes. This impulse to reject one's fate is, perhaps, one of the more peculiar features of the human experience (I could, but prefer not to, cite a list starting with Global Warming and the Iraq War, but alas, time). I waited, consciously yielding to the Fates, but also having no other course of action in mind.
I was also pissed. I never have fun when I'm right about something... which is to say that I am right about only the wrong things.
At 7:35, I dabbled in reversing destiny. Also, I had gotten bored of waiting and knew I would be awake for several more hours (I'm not a morning person, so this is a rare day). I ran home, had Emrah call the bus company, and we both spoke to a man yelling about the shuttle, that it definitely passed Boğaziçi University, but that I shouldn't be waiting there anyway, because the service shuttle leaves from a place nearby there, a "yazı hane", which is a local bureau office. I should emphasize the yelling and the tone, both of which implied that I was a fool, but were additionally difficult to understand. It was at this point that I began to feel victimized.
On Emrah's advice (which I love, because he uses the phrase "As much as I know..." to introduce facts about which he is unsure, although they are almost always correct) I sought out the departure point for the MetroTurizm shuttle bus, and found only a sign and an empty parking spot. The place is less than 100 meters from South Campus, but it is in no way across from the gate, nor visible from there. On the way there, I think I saw the MetroTurizm shuttle disappearing around a bend... can't be too sure though. I jumped at every shuttle that came by this morning, which was a lot of jumping. Shuttles exist for schools and companies and large workplaces, and it seems all of them use the same orange and blue logos and have the word "Turizm" written on them somewhere.
I called the bus company again, with my last phone credits. They connected me to the same man I had spoken with before, who I thought was the shuttle driver. In a breath, he was yelling at me again, and I realized something: When an adult yells at me I really don't like it, because I both feel I'm being treated like a child, and also that the person is absurd (and therefore, probably wrong about whatever information or situation has led them to yell). When I'm yelled at in a foreign language, however, these feelings are coupled with the knowledge that I probably won't understand what is said, and that I am also helpless to have any good comeback or means to assert myself. In Turkish, I can jump from polite, daily language, to swears that Turkish sailors don't use, but I lack the acceptable middle-ground for this sort of a situation.
So, I just got louder and told the man not to speak to me that way, and to stop yelling. At the same time, I thought about the various curses I learned at Beşiktaş matches, things to say about his mother and her affinity for the village donkeys and traveling bands of gypsies. It ended up, that telling him not to yell was sufficient to sate my ego.
I hung up the phone, and got on a city bus heading for Taksim. I figured that, while I was awake, getting my ticket changed would be wise. When the bus got to Beşiktaş, it occurred to me that, rather than go all the way to Taksim, I could go into the office there, which is exactly what I did once I peeled myself out of the bus (rush hour gets crowded here).
The man behind the desk was on the phone, and he had a familiar voice and manner. When he got off the phone, I began my rehearsed explanation for needing a new ticket. He cut me off to clarify that I needed a new ticket, and asked if I was coming from Etiler. At about the same moment, we both realized that we had each yelled at the other over the telephone.
He began yelling about the "yazı hane" before I could react. Taken off guard, and now face to face with the man who had harshed my traveler's mojo, I did something uncharacteristic. I started humbly explaining that this was no way to speak to customers, much less foreign guests of his country. In fact, I asked if he always yelled at people this way. I went on to say that I had spoken with the driver the night before, and been in the right place at the right time, that I didn't want his explanations because I had found the "yazı hane", and I just wanted the same ticket for the next day.
He stopped yelling, became polite and, more importantly, quiet, and issued my ticket.
It all happened in Turkish, haltingly, but still, it felt pretty damn good.
Tomorrow morning, at 7:20, I'll be leaving from the Etiler bureau office by a service shuttle to the central bus station. I'll tell you about it when I get back.
Monday, June 16, 2008
A disturbing pattern...
This is what appears when I try to visit bianet.org, home for the Bağımsız İletişim Ağı (the Independent Communications Network).
Engellenmiştir - Forbidden
Erismek istediginiz sayfa savcilik karari ile engellenmistir.
Access to this page has been blocked by law court decision.
BIA has a slew of projects relating to media accountability, legal assistance for journalists, promotion of pluralism and democracy, and the usual terrorist-loving baby-killing human rights interests that would cause any reasonable government to ban access to BIA's website.
They have an English language version, about as clearly written as the Turkish Daily News, but infinitely more relevant.
Two ways to circumvent government controls over the web:
Open DNS
Free Proxies Network
Write those down for later... maybe homeboy will tag me, too.
Engellenmiştir - Forbidden
Erismek istediginiz sayfa savcilik karari ile engellenmistir.
Access to this page has been blocked by law court decision.
BIA has a slew of projects relating to media accountability, legal assistance for journalists, promotion of pluralism and democracy, and the usual terrorist-loving baby-killing human rights interests that would cause any reasonable government to ban access to BIA's website.
They have an English language version, about as clearly written as the Turkish Daily News, but infinitely more relevant.
Two ways to circumvent government controls over the web:
Open DNS
Free Proxies Network
Write those down for later... maybe homeboy will tag me, too.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Big Brother 2, You Tube 0
I never stop getting a kick out of this, though it is irritating. This is the second time, that I know of, that youtube.com has run afoul of the Turkish Republic. The crime... I dunno. Some Greek 15-year-old probably made a video calling Ataturk a "fag".
Anything to be 15 again...
With a whimper...
This is a long time in coming. The idea has probably been in my head for at least eight months, and I know I'm way behind the blogging trend, in general. In any event, this will be a collection of others' experiences, as well as mine, in Istanbul. Since I am writing this from Ankara, I feel free to poach from all of Turkey and the greater European/Near East region as well. There's a lot going on and many adventures being had.
The way a story gets told, around here, is convoluted. I like it. There will, no doubt, be a great deal of misinformation here, combined with rumor and also some exaggeration. This isn't an attempt at Truth (not with a capital "T", anyhow), but I'll try to let folks know, in some subtle way, when I'm retelling the stories as true that I know are probably false. I think that's what they call "journalism". Honestly, though, half the fun of retelling the rumor is knowing that it isn't true, and that I am retelling it anyway. Finally, no commitments to staying on topic... I really can't abide by that at all.
The way a story gets told, around here, is convoluted. I like it. There will, no doubt, be a great deal of misinformation here, combined with rumor and also some exaggeration. This isn't an attempt at Truth (not with a capital "T", anyhow), but I'll try to let folks know, in some subtle way, when I'm retelling the stories as true that I know are probably false. I think that's what they call "journalism". Honestly, though, half the fun of retelling the rumor is knowing that it isn't true, and that I am retelling it anyway. Finally, no commitments to staying on topic... I really can't abide by that at all.
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