After visiting the American Embassy in Ankara yesterday, I realized the variety of misconceptions Americans have of Turks and Turks of Americans. We (the CLS group) met with the head public affairs officer in Turkey, and he is basically in charge of America’s image in Turkey. He discussed how difficult this can be because Turks are very proud of their culture and very wary of others. I think it’s fascinating that they can be so skeptical of others, but once they accept you, they are arguably the most hospitable people, a fact they are very proud of.
My family is no exception. My host parents, grandmother, and siblings are always willing to go above and beyond what they need to do to take care of me. I coughed and three seconds later my mom knocked on my door and asked if I was sick, if I needed medicine, if I wanted a glass of water, if I was hungry. They try to feed me twice as much as I could realistically eat. If it’s chilly, my mom makes sure I bring a jacket with me to school. They offer to help me with my homework.
Another interesting cultural note is that Turks tend to be much more direct with questions many Americans wouldn’t ask or answer. They’ll ask you how much you make, they’ll ask about your political stance, your religious views, how much you eat (all of which I have been asked in the last three days). Despite this lack of inhibition, talking to strangers is unheard of. You don’t say more than is necessary to your servers or cashiers. You don’t smile and say good morning to the bus driver. You don’t chat with the friendly looking woman sitting next to you on the bus.
Don’t even get me started on public transportation. I joked with a friend that someone could easily get a PhD in the ins and outs of Turkish public transportation. In Ankara, there’s a metro, which is pretty normal for a major city. There are also buses. I feel like there are hundreds upon hundreds. All over the place all the time. Always uncomfortably crowded.
And then there are the dolmuş. If you were to translate dolmuş to English, it would mean something along the lines of “stuffed,” which they totally are all the time. But that’s not even the interesting part. I mentioned in a previous post that they’re a cross between a bus and a taxi. They have a set route and they don’t stray from it at all, like a bus. However, there are no set stops. You flag it down to get on and you alert the driver when your stop comes up. You pay just for the distance you travel. To pay, you just hand the money to the person in front of you. It gets passed along to the driver who will make change if necessary and pass it back. But the driver isn’t just driving and making change. He’s also probably texting, or maybe talking to a friend. He’s yelling at the other dolmuş drivers. He’s changing the radio station, or fiddling with the air conditioning. Maybe you think this doesn’t sound too bad, but you’re probably imagining this while thinking of American traffic. If you have low blood pressure, I can guarantee that downtown Ankara traffic during rush hour will change that faster than you can say “inecek var” (roughly “there is someone who wants to get off). There are traffic laws, but no one follows them. There are marked lanes, but the lines are pointless. What should be a four lane road quickly becomes an 8 lane road. The only time you might use your turn signal is if you’re turning left and there’s oncoming traffic. Otherwise, you nearly ram the car beside you until it’s forced to let you in. I feel like it’s a game almost. “Let’s see who will cave first. Either I let you in, or you go behind me and try your luck with the next guy.” The cars will get so close to each other (while going 30 or 40 mph!) that you really can’t see any space between them. There’s no such thing as a right-of-way or defensive driving. It’s all offense, even for pedestrians. The cars will not stop for you.
Scary traffic aside, Ankara is so wonderful. My apartment building has a mosque a couple blocks away in either direction. I love it, except during the call to prayer that takes place around 4 in the morning. I find my apartment building (and thus where I want to get off the dolmuş) using the mosques and also the fruit vendors, which are on every corner. The streets are lined with vendors of fruit, bread, simit (like a hard bagel), kebap (kebabs), hairdressers (a seemingly unreasonable amount too), and Turkcell shops (Turkish cell phone company). There are no department stores either. Just little specialty shops. One for snacks, one for dresses, one for shoes, for bags, for books, for school supplies, cell phones, phone accessories, scarves, jewelry, fruit, bread, anything you could need.
Contrary to popular belief (or maybe just mainstream American media), most Turkish women don’t actually cover their heads. Few do, and most of them are older. Ankara, though a relatively modern and less conservative city, has women (and men) who dress comparably to Americans, often more stylish.
All in all, yes, Turkey is clearly a different place than America. In some ways it’s better, in others it’s not. In reality though, it’s not nearly as different as you might think. It’s a great example of how traveling can open your mind and challenge you.
(Also, a side note. I booked a hostel in Istanbul with a group for next weekend. It’s close TopKapi, Suleymaniye, Sultan Ahmet, and Hagia Sophia, which is so great. Also it’s 14 Euro a night, a STEAL. I am so excited! We’re planning on attending some Istanbul Pride events along with the usual tourist activities. Thinking about it has me so giddy!)
Adventures in Ankara 