 Driving in Turkey
“You drive like a Turk!”
One of my proudest moments in Turkey involved these words being yelled at me by an irate fellow driver as she moved towards the front of a long line using the wrong lane so as to not wait like the rest of us. I was not letting her in front of me, and she was not happy about it. It was a proud moment for me as I realized I must be acclimating to my surroundings.
My wife said the same thing to me (although she was laughing, not yelling) the other day as I was going the wrong way down a one-way street in order to more quickly get to my destination. I corrected her, though, saying that I had not fully made the transformation to be a Turk, since I was pulling to the side to let cars pass. My experience with Ankara residents has been that they will honk at the person going in the correct direction, expecting them to move out of the way.
I have a theory that the aggressiveness on a country's roads is in direct relation to the proportion of male to female drivers (it fits well with other crazy theories I have related to the fact that men and women are really different). Having lived in several countries and many cities I have had a chance to informally test my theory, and so far it has held.
One desire of most foreigners is to fit in to their new home and becoming familiar with their environment, while a corresponding fear is navigating the roads. As in language the formal rules generally do not match the actual practice. Turkey, however, takes it to a new level.
This is the first place in which I have been honked at for NOT running a red light. [Note: I understand that people honk to let the first cars know the light has changed. I am not referring to that phenomenon here.] And speaking of honking, I realized early on that Turkish was not the only language I needed to learn. Honking is another language that must be mastered to drive in Turkey. Fortunately, I feel like I have a good grasp and enjoyment of this language.
But cars are not the only concern for drivers in Ankara; pedestrians (yaya is one of my favorite Turkish words) also wreak havoc on the roads. My general impression from watching pedestrians is that many Turks have a death wish. From my culture studies I realize that Turks must fall on the spectrum of “Non-Crisis Culture,” but it is quite jolting for the visitor from the “crisis preparedness cultures” of the West.
Regardless of the impression given above, I sincerely enjoy driving here. I can be in a hurry and know that I will not need to stop. I love the challenge of filling whatever space is in front of me and transforming a two-lane road into a five-lane road. I stare in wonder watching traffic police officers just watch as cars run red lights in front of them.
And in spite of all the above, I do my best to keep from stereotyping the drivers around me. A while back I was in an accident as a lady tried to squeeze into my lane and got too close. Our fenders connected and hers was bent a bit. I got out of the car expecting a donnybrook. Instead she asked if I could help bend her fender back. My mouth fell open. I looked at her fender and tried to help. My car was not damaged (anyone who has seen my old clunker, knows that it really can't be damaged), and we went our separate ways.
A proverb of Solomon, the Hebrew prophet and king, came to mind, “A kind answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” I had experienced it first hand, and it worked just as predicted.
Thus, driving in Ankara has made me laugh and cry, filled me with wisdom, and given me a deeper love and respect for the Turkish people. As time goes by, I hope to share other musings from the perspective of a foreign student living in Ankara and attending Bilkent.
BY DUKE ASHLEY DILLARD (MAN/V)
Bilkent News
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