City Traffic

Americans are cowards on the street. Having grown too comfortable on the wide, safe streets of Grinnell, we are intimidated by chaotic city traffic with unfamiliar signs and behaviors. Istanbul is a large and busy city. Cars and large smelly buses stream past, packed together with little regard for the number of lanes marked on the tarmac. The usual rule seems to be that if there are 2 lanes marked, you can fit 3 cars side by side going each way, plus a motorcycle between each car, and pedestrians woven throughout.
On the way to Bilgi University the other day, our driver found himself headed up a single lane with cars parked on both sides, into a fork where the oncoming cars took up all of the street that was not parked on, making it de facto one-way against us. But with a little bit of polite aggression, some hand signals, and a helpful street sweeper who watched our flanks to see that there was still an inch between us and the parked cars, our driver adeptly muscled his way up a couple of blocks until we could turn onto a less packed route.
And therein lies the main difference between American drivers who are often clumsy and depend on fixed rules and wide if not perfect obedience to them, and Turkish drivers, skillful but lax about signals, lanes, and speed limits. In Turkey, there are traffic rules, but like most business here, things are negotiable. You stop at a light, but edging forward early is expected. Pedestrians know that cars won’t stop to let them cross if they just stand on the curb, but if you move steadily into the torrent, each car will slow down just enough to let you through. Drivers can push their way into busy intersections and up clogged streets, and it must be admitted that the system largely works once you are used to it - many cars are shiny and new, and you rarely see the scrapes and scars you would expect in such congested traffic.
Public transport is also plentiful, cheap, and effective, although it may take a while to get there. The trick is knowing how to find the right mode in the right place. A local expert, like Funda, is an invaluable teacher. For instance, to go from Bogazici U, which is quite far from city center, to dinner on the Asian shore, we started by walking down the hill to Bebek. Catching a bus there is only a few minutes wait, if you know the right one. There are maps and bus route numbers posted at some stops, but they are cryptic at best. The buses have destination labels which are much more useful. A bus ride costs 1.5 lira, or about $1, and although the buses are standing-room-only crowded for parts of the route, they get there just fine.
Stopping at Besiktas, (home of a major soccer team), we catch a ferry to Kadikoy on the Asian shore. If you go a bit further, you can pick up the tramway which will efficiently sweep you over the Galata Bridge to the Old City. Trams and ferry are also just public transport. You buy a token which costs the same as a bus ride, and the ferry gives you a pleasant wind-swept view of the water with palaces and mosques passing by on the skyline.
When we wanted to return, we found a dolmus stand. The dolmus is a fixed route minibus. The name appropriately means “stuffed” and is also applied to the squash packed with rice that we ate the other night. A dolmus carries about 10 passengers depending on conditions, size of the human cargo, and urgency. When it reaches capacity, the driver shuts the door and takes off. You can flag a dolmus down on the street if you are fast enough to read the destination on the front, or you can find the spot whence the route you need departs. New passengers hop on and pass their fare up to the driver. There are of course many taxis as well, which cost a good deal more, but are faster. Foreigners find the dolmus system intimidating because we don’t know the rules or routes; the taxis are either exhilarating or terrifying depending on your mood and inclinations. Mark clutches his wallet, John assures us that he can’t die yet because he hasn’t published enough, Gemma mutters prayers or curses in Spanish, and I focus on the scenery with all the anthropological detachment I can muster. Suffice it to say that defensive driving is not the name of the game. John and Ellen, and Kathy and I, and Gemma and friend all plan to spend some extra time in Turkey, including driving around the countryside. We all hope to minimize city driving, but there will be some new attitudes introduced to the streets of Grinnell.