Driving in Turkey

I have driven into the alley. I have driven as far as M1. But until yesterday, I had not ventured into Adana as the driver of a vehicle. I’d gone with JB many times. I’d allowed a dolmuş driver to take the lead. But myself? Yesterday, was my first experience.

Of course, I wasn’t alone. The one thing about Turkey that can be a bit frustrating is that driving off-Base by myself is just not something I can do. I mean, I could do it, but my sweet husband thinks I am overly naïve in underestimating the risks of being in the Middle East where very few people speak (good) English. I know he’s right. But sometimes, being “trapped” on Base can get a little frustrating. Many women do leave Base by themselves. But I’m not one of them.

So I wasn’t alone. The awesome Stebs was my co-pilot. We were going to a lunch hosted by one of the women in our Turkish-American Women’s Club. We were following Stebs’ neighbor Seyhun, a Turkish lady married to an American man who, unfortunately, wasn’t returning to Base after the dinner -- meaning that I had to follow behind her.

First I must tell you, driving in Turkey is not the worst driving experience I have ever had. Nigeria was, horrendous. I would have never braved sitting behind the wheel in that country. But other than Nigeria, I have never experienced anything quite like driving in this country.

I wish, somehow, I could paint it for you in words, but it so hard to accurately describe a road with lane markers that are simply a suggestion. People coast from lane to lane without any forethought involved. Cars will often be driving the wrong way so as to avoid having to try to find a non-existent place for a U-turn. Bikes and rick-shaws and people walking and stray dogs are only a part of the extra drama. They weave between traffic as if I am not driving a two-ton automobile that can smash them to smitherines.

The Turks have no problem standing mere inches from a vehicle when it passes. And when I slow down and refuse to navigate through a busy street until there is more space between myself and a mother with a baby, the people behind me begin honking and the pedestrians start waving me on. Their eyes are saying, “Just drive! What’s the problem? You have p-l-e-n-t-y of space.” Unfortunately, I do not feel as comfortable as they do with the space I have been given.

Parking spots are often marked by lines which are once again, just mere suggestions. As I tried to pull my mini-van into a spot, a Turkish man stood on the sidewalk and tried to help me squeeze the van in. They are a helpful people but much more confident in my driving/parking skills than I am. He kept waving me in, encouraging me, telling me I could make it without scratching the pole to my right. But I didn’t believe him and ended up backing traffic up for a block to back-up and re-enter at my own comfort level.

When we returned from dinner, people had parked behind our cars. And so what were people doing? They were driving on the sidewalks in order to get around the fact that they were blocked in. And I am talking about sidewalks filled with shoppers in a very classy, up-scale area of Adana. Not exaggerating here folks. It really happened. Lucky for me, the man parked behind me was just getting into his vehicle as I was leaving so that I was able to avoid having to navigate the sidewalk. Thank the Lord.

The way home was much more eventful. Firstly, Stebs and I were on our own – no Seyhun to lead the way. In some ways, this was easier, since following a Turk is not an easy thing to do. They are pushing through people and sliding between objects that I don’t feel quite comfortable with. But since I am following, I have little choice. On my own, I can go as slow as I want while I wait for a man holding a ten-foot cotton candy pole to cross the street. Of course, everyone honks at me, but they honk for everything, and I truly don’t care. I refused to come that close to people on the side of the road.

At one point, we were on a two lane road which appeared to be more of a sidewalk but was obviously used for driving. There was just barely enough room for two cars to pass each other on this tiny road. But that didn’t slow down the people coming the other way. They zipped by me unconcerned that our mirrors were just mere inches apart. And when I would slow down, motorbikes loaded with teenagers would zip around me and slide over in front of me just mere feet before the other car zipped by coming the other direction. Craziness!

While navigating through one of these tiny roads, a man coming the other way had gotten distracted looking for something off to his right and failed to see me at all on the side of the road. He was coming straight for me, and all I could do was slam on my breaks and put my hand on my horn and leave it there for a full five seconds. He came to a screeching halt, and while neither of us were going fast enough that the front-end collision would have resulted in injury to either party, Stebs and I were breathing quite a bit harder than normal due to the fear of a front-end collision in a country where an accident is always the fault of the American and my Turkish is only as good as a two-year-old. The man apologized with his eyes and hand-gestures, acknowledging that he was completely distracted and at fault, and we continued on our way.

We eventually ended up at home completely safe and sound and feeling a tremendous amount of relief for the Base. The dinner had been wonderful with nine Turkish women and Stebs and myself experiencing an Italian dinner in Turkey. Nearly all of the women spoke good English, but they still often slipped into Turkish. It’s a great opportunity for me to practice the language and learn more about the culture. These are very educated Turkish women, and as we would say in America, quite “kept”, so they only represent a fraction of society. But what a fantastic opportunity.

We did however have to laugh when one of the women told us she didn’t like driving in America. “There’s too many rules,” she said in her heavy Turkish accent. Yes, too many rules!

Exactly!

Bring on those rules!