I have a driver...

OK, not in the sense that I have retained a chauffeur to drive me around the city, but kinda. I have a 'friend' who drives a taxi and lets me pay him to drive me around, and he is pretty much on call.

I met Hamdi sometime in the middle of the semester, so around March. I was running stupid-late for school, and jumping into a cab was really the only way I could avoid a lecture, explaining to me that I was late (which would clearly be redundant as I was already aware of my tardiness). I've lived in Turkey long enough to know that avoiding such lectures is worth as much as fifty lira, because the process is essentially a long dialog where my mistake is explained to me, I accept my mistake, and then the mistake is re-explained in similar words, after which I take responsibility, and there is a final round of examining why my mistake is important enough to be noted.

Taxi ride from my home to school: 8.26 Lira

Hamdi is really outgoing, and overly friendly in a way that Turkish people can sometimes be, in cases where the extent of the relationship is a financial transaction. For instance, the simitçi from whom I purchased a morning pastry, twice, seven months ago, felt completely comfortable engaging me in a conversation about the state of my knee when he saw it in a brace.

Weird.

In any event, Hamdi continued to follow-up with me after our first trip together, greeting us on our way to school, or giving us hell for not riding with him. I maybe got a ride from him twice more. Three weeks ago when I tore my ACL, I knew I would need safer transport than the jostling around that the bus could provide. Calling Hamdi seemed logical, and for the past several weeks, he's been ferrying me to and from school.

Needless to say, we are now becoming 'close' in his mind.

I suppose this is what I really want to write about. Turkey constantly presents challenges to my personal space. I've lost count of how many times I, the only person on a wide sidewalk, have been bumped into by the only other person on the sidewalk, who would have cleared me by fifteen feet if they hadn't drifted my way. On a visit to San Fransisco, in the fall of 2007, I reveled in the freedom of movement and walked a deserted (by my Istanbul standards) rush-hour block, with both my hands completely outstretched to their full wing-span.

I didn't touch a soul.

For our purposes now, I am not speaking of personal space in the how-close-you-stand-when-speaking-to-me sense. There are additional challenges to my sense of friendship and loyalty. Hamdi is a nice example of one such challenge. We talk in the cab, and he is entertaining. I do not dislike him. He consistently picks me up, gets me where I need to be, and we have not been in anything resembling an accident (which I consider a perk). I offer what I feel is customer loyalty, calling him back because I trust and am pleased with his service.

I just don't know what to do, though, when the man begins asking me to get breakfast with him in the morning, or go to a cafe on the other side of Istanbul for an afternoon. The seeming homo-eroticism of a man-date with Hamdi does not bother me. I have lived here long enough to know there is nothing sexual about it.

Rather, I simply don't feel a man-date with my driver is appropriate.

Istanbul is a jungle...

I've been here long enough that much of the shiny-newness of this city has rubbed off. It might be that I need a break from the extant stupidity I've dealt with over the last several months, but I really think that time, in any place, tends to do that. The colors dull, the novelty rubs off, and then there is the routine of sleep, work, play, repeat...

That's why meeting people, who are new to the city, can be really refreshing. They seem both childishly fascinated with this new place, and woefully naive of its pitfalls.

One such person, a Belgian I shared beers with on Monday, felt Istanbul offered an escape. Europe, as he explained it, was bureaucratic, over-regulated, and repressive. Istanbul offers him freedom, relaxed controls, and something wild.

"Istanbul is like a jungle," he said to me, "but Belgium was a zoo."

I haven't thought, in some time, of dependable infrastructure or safe traffic practices as signs of control... but I've also dealt with the lack thereof for nearly four years.

I appreciated his perspective. It was a reminder. At the same time, as I've aged, and protection from needless injury or unlawful treatment has become an increasing concern, I begun behaving as though Istanbul is indeed, a jungle. I'm no streetwise thug, but I believe this jungle has wrought changes that have made me a tougher, slightly more cunning, and more aggressive and empowered.

I'm not certain that all of these qualities are good things, in and of themselves.

Jungle or zoo, if nothing else, this city is definitely not Jacksonville...

A quick update...

There's been a lot happening, and I feel bad that I haven't been writing as much, so I'll throw all these out there in short-form:

- My employers have finally figured out why they hired me, and I've been doing actual work, at work. That's not to say they can keep me completely busy, because I found time to write this.

- I bought a bicycle, and I'm taking new risks with Turkish cab drivers and delivery mopeds with each new day. It's exhilarating. I'm also perfecting the over-the-shoulder-flick-off with my left hand, while keeping control of the bike with my right. Good times.

- We have a new President... apparently, he's a black man?

- We threw a crazy Halloween party at our place, last Friday. One of the neighbors got angry, and challenged our forty-strong group to a fight in the street. We sent him home without his fight, and brought the party to Taksim. Homeboy didn't want things to end, though, and came back looking for a fight (specifically with me) on Saturday evening. Luckily, I was busy, looking at a bike.

- Turks are ridiculously happy about Obama becoming the President... all except the two guys who make my sandwiches, at the grocer's. They don't think that the American political system changes dramatically with a shift in leadership. They believe the United States is a fundamentally right-of-center country, no matter who's in charge. They also don't think that a black man will behave all that differently from a white man, when it comes to issues of foreign policy (they cited US support for Israel, an aggressive posture for foreign interventions, the diplomatic stance to leftist nations like Cuba and Venezuela). All I could do is shrug... I am about as cynical as they are, and the excitement about Obama has been lost on me. I just don't place hope in people. They, on the other hand, are Marxist-Lenninists, so their opinions probably don't matter.

- My room mate Emrah went to India. I hope he's having fun there. He'll get back tomorrow evening to find an American using his bed... I love guests!

- If it has ninjas, it must be cool? Ask this guy...

The People I Meet When I Travel: The King of Bahrain

OK, so that's a lie, I didn't actually meet the king of Bahrain.

I did, however, become wildly inebriated within fifty feet of him.

I did not know he was there.

I was waiting for him to arrive, and my buddies were late pointing out that I'd missed him coming in.

Basically, I popped down to the hotel lobby because there was a lot of noise in front of the hotel. I was with two of the military intel people that help me pass the time, so I figured, "what the hell, let's see what this is all about".

There was quite an entourage. Security people kept wandering in, slowly. Some were dressed like tourists, except for their funny earpieces. Others had their suits. As more of these folks began to arrive, the lobby bar slowly cleared out, until only myself and my two pals were left. I actually missed his entrance because I went to the little boy's room.

If we were expected to leave, nobody said anything. Some security people just sat down next to us at the bar. I hope these people understood English, cause it would be nice to think that someone from the king's crew could follow our jibes.

Everyone comes from a birth canal, and each of those is pretty special, in its own right. So, I'm not about to regard someone who came from a 'royal' birth canal as particularly unique. Certainly, I'm not about to give any person absolute power on the basis that the birth canal from whence they were delivered is superior to those of other mortals.

In the case of King Hamad ibn Isa al-Khalifah, he was actually the emir of Bahrain, up until he changed his title to king. So much for divine right. Abandoning one's own ridiculous absolutist customs for those of the European middle-ages may, at first glance, seem desirable. Let's be honest though, everybody can see through what you're doing, and they still think you're a dick for it.

The ceremony with which the king departed the lobby drove the point home, for me. Everybody in the lobby stood (that is, everybody except me and the remaining intel guy). There were two rows of dignitaries, military men, and security, through which the king proceeded, on his way down to the hotel club. I couldn't see him until he was very close, and learning why had a pronounced effect on my reaction.

When I saw that the king comes up to about my shoulder, and has a striking resemblance to Ron Jeremy, well, I choked on my beer and began coughing... loudly.

The People I Meet When I Travel: Military Intelligence, The Translator

This sub-series of The People I Meet When I Travel will need to be broken down. There are twenty or thirty military intelligence people living in the hotel, somewhere above me. I've only spoken with some of them, I only know what one of them does, and, well, as is the nature of their work, I'm not really sure I know enough to write about.

They are fun to drink with, though.

As happens, when you combine alcohol and people, a chemical reaction takes place that can be observed in a person's increased comfort with their surroundings; inhibitions are reduced, laughter and merriment are easily achieved, and people talk more readily about what's on their mind.

I won't learn anything classified from these folks, cause they are, well, professionals. Also, I won't learn what they are doing here, or why their mission is a short-term one (Nov. 2007- Nov. 2008).

They do bitch about work though, about bosses (which are generals, in this case), about co-workers (I've met some of them, and yes, there are insane people in uniform), and about the logic of their mission.

Saturday night I got lit with the translator. He's an American, who went to high school in Turkey, knows Turkish fluently, and then returned to the states to attend the Air Force Academy. Much respect. Dennis is a husky guy, reddish hair, freckled skin, and when he speaks Turkish, it sounds like Ankara people speaking Turkish... so, it's a little weird to watch (as I imagine it must be weird when I speak).

He knows the language and the culture, and Turkish women, and he's great company because we can joke about all three. Dennis can also share anecdotes about the embarrassing ways that the American military, when it doesn't consult him, puts its proverbial 'foot' in it, while trying to accomplish some task requiring Turkish and American cooperation.

Something Dennis notices often, is the way Americans try to reward a job well-done, by a Turkish counterpart. Military operations have a number of local support staff, and sometimes, personnel want to express their gratitude to the natives. People's hearts are in the right place, the execution, however, leaves much to be desired. He explains:

I look over and Janet is pressing a twenty YTL bill into the hands of this hotel waitress, as she stands alongside two co-workers. Then, Janet just walks away, leaving the other wait staff hanging. Those were all people we see everyday., and all three had been serving our group that evening. AWKWARD!

What gets me, is that I'm the cultural/linguistic advisor. I write memos on this shit and circulate them through the office. I helped develop a whole protocol for appropriately acknowledging the good work of our Turkish support staff. I know the culture, and the language, and one might think that my area of expertise matters, but obviously, people can't be fucked to read that shit, and the result is that we look like we're out to award servility. This kind of thing is dangerous, it attracts greedy people, makes us look like snobs, and it smacks of the behavior of empire builders. Just, give 'em a fucking certificate or something, but stop tossing tax-payer money around!

I tend to agree.

Dennis is the only fluent Turkish speaker on staff with his office. He is also the only person there who has lived in Turkey for any amount of time. Next week he goes home, and there isn't anyone coming here to fill his shoes.

George Carlin introduced a list of oxymora to his stand-up act, and along with Jumbo Shrimp there was Military Intelligence.

I tend to agree with him, too.

The People I Meet When I Travel: The Turkish Envoy to Iraq

I met the Turkish envoy to Iraq on a flight to Ankara from Istanbul, in May. We were sitting next to each other, and when I noticed him reading an English newspaper, I struck up a conversation. I don't know what I said to get it started, and I never remember, so whenever I find myself in a situation to start talking with someone, I usually don't know what to say. I lucked out, anyhow, cause once he got his turn to speak, it turned into a mini-lecture, and I was saved all the effort of actually having to talk, or think about how fast an object free-falls.

He was on his way back to the capital from Baghdad, where he said the security situation was "improving". He and his staff never felt at risk, but it had taken time to get used to gun shots and explosions... which were a daily occurrence.

I didn't learn anything that research wouldn't turn up, but he had this matter-of-fact manner for describing the role of Turkey, vis-à-vis US foreign policy towards Iraq. He used terms like "mediator" and "intermediary" and "alternative voice", and discussed very honestly how Turkey's policy cues and talking points come largely from Washington. Perhaps, if he'd known the term, "step-and-fetch" would have been among them.

"Your State Department," he said, "needs Turkish diplomats to assert much of their agenda, because Iraqi's are growing tired of the American presence. It is an occupation, after all, and it helps if we can step in to make it look and feel less like that."

Iraq needs a lot of help, and Turkey has been doing a great deal of that, under the direction of the United States. He indicated that this kind of diplomacy was, obviously, very helpful for furthering Turkey's relations with their southern neighbor.

I assume there are additional, unspoken advantages, for both Turkey and the United States. I don't know what they are. I speculate, however, that one reason the House of Representatives abandoned its efforts to recognize the 'Armenian Question', as it's called in Turkey, as a genocide, has to do with our present interests in the region.

If the gentleman's demeanor was any indication, the Turkish government can do some serious bargaining with the US on a number of fronts. He seemed to feel pretty good about that.