I’ve been meaning to write about the rest of my trip, but unfortunately along with some amazing scarves and gifts, I also brought back some sort of Turkish plague - and so have been feeling miserable for the past week or so.
I am sufficiently cracked out on Benalyn and Ibuprofen/Codeine tablets to no longer feel the burning in my throat or sandpaper swipe of every cough and so blog I shall :)
Istanbul strikes me as a bit of a looking-glass city; there is a large difference between what seems to be presented to the outside world and what life is really like on the inside. I’ve always known Turkey as a forward-thinking “Westernised” Muslim country. I have read so much, in guidebooks and otherwise, about how the revolution resulted in an openness to the Western world, and an acceptance of other cultures and ideologies.
I’m sure this is very true, and that compared to other Muslim countries, Turkey is far more open. However, having not been to any other Muslim countries as of yet, I found myself rather shocked at what I experienced. The entire trip had a strange, polarising effect upon me. At the end of my week in Istanbul, I was both incredibly happy to be returning to familiarity and terribly desirous of visiting a “true” Muslim country.
The entire experience was, frankly, a bit confusing. Women are not expected to fully cover themselves - even the head covering is optional (save for the mosque, of course) - and yet I felt accusing eyes everywhere I went. The men leered, yelled, grabbed, generally acted as if the fact that I were Western made me fair game for all sorts of abuse. The verbal assaults ranged from the hilarious and odd (the man in the Bazaar who kept yelling, “Hey ladies, you’re breaking my balls!”) to the downright insulting (overtly sexual comments and offers).
We stayed at a Turkish hotel chain (Surmeli Hotels) - and we were the only non-Turkish people in the entire hotel. While the woman working at Guest Relation (the sign was missing the “s”) and a few of the bellhops seemed quite pleased to see us, the rest of the staff seemed to regard us as a major affront to their refined sensibilities.
The other guests were the worst. They stared at us: full-on, round-eyed, deliberate stares. They pointed at us and talked about us, right to our faces. They refused to touch the same utensils at breakfast, and avoided sitting anywhere near us if they could help it. All of which was very confusing, given that we were all fully-clothed and relatively quiet (none of us being a morning person). The worst was in the evening. I would visit the hotel bar (in the main lobby) for a bucket of ice. As it was still Ramadan, the hotel offered a nightly meal called an Iftar (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iftar). As I was very desirous of being as respectful of local customs as possible, I specifically asked on several occasions if I should cover myself when entering the bar area - as it was literally right next to the open plan restaurant, and I could clearly see Muslim families dining (who were all very properly attired, especially the women). I was assured that no, it wasn’t necessary, and in fact it might look a bit weird. So I would go get ice wearing whatever I had on that day - usually a knee-length short-sleeved sundress over my bathing suit.
From the looks I received, you would have thought I was strutting through that lobby in my birthday suit. I have never felt more uncomfortable in a hotel in my life (not even when I stayed in what ended up being basically a by-the-hour flophouse in Northern California, which didn’t offer a phone in the room, had all the furniture bolted to the floor and happened to be right across from a low-budget strip club and a decrepit Denny’s restaurant). I thought I was exaggerating and so I brought J with me one time and she experienced it as well. I felt a bit like Hester Prynne, truth be told.
Based on all the wonderful things I had heard about Istanbul, I was ready to just assume that our hotel was weird and full of weird people and that things would be better once we got out and explored. Um, not exactly.
We did meet some really nice people (the entire staff at our local Popeye’s; the waiter at The Kitchenette in the Astoria who gave me his phone number and identified himself as a “semi-professional guide”; the staff of the sushi restaurant in Chillai) but these were a welcome respite from what became an expected barrage of verbal abuse and dirty looks. We were yelled at inside the Grand Bazaar. We were yelled at outside the Grand Bazaar. We were yelled at outside Hagia Sophia. We were yelled at outside the Blue Mosque. We were yelled at on the road from the Blue Mosque to the Spice Bazaar (which wound us through the center of the city and was not exactly tourist central). We were yelled at on our way to Club 360 (which despite all the rave reviews ended up being in this grotty apartment building and the door was staffed by about 12 rather weird looking people in suits. The cover charge was ridiculous and E refused to go in, citing concerns of a “mafia” nature).
As I was telling a friend over lunch this past weekend, I am fully used to being yelled at or grabbed at inside or just outside “da club”. I am not so used to it happening on my way to/from a global religious monument. Or outside a cafe. Or while I’m trying to buy a bottle of water.
And for as badly as it struck me, it hit poor J even worse. She was clearly voted Miss Popular with Turkish Men from nearly the moment we landed. They did not let up - trying to grab at her, touch her, kiss her, you name it. Those of you who know me are well aware that I don’t mind a spectacle or two -hell, I’m often the one creating it. But even I was shocked by some of the behaviour I observed.
So it is strange - for all the hilarious memories I have of Istanbul, and for all of the amazing things I saw (the Hagia Sophia is truly breathtaking, as is the view of the old city along the Bosporus) - the main thing that is forefront in my mind is how uncomfortable I was the entire time. I am convinced that I would have been much happier if I had been fully covered most of the time - but then this leads me back to my original point. Turkey seems to suffer from an identity crisis - or at least Istanbul does. I think the country needs to decide if it is Western-friendly or not. If not, fine, but then at least travelers know what to expect and can plan accordingly.
I’ll write more on the fun side of the trip, but I had to comment on this as I’m really interested to know if I’m alone in feeling this way, or I was over sensitive. After all, Istanbul was my first trip outside Europe (aside from Singapore/Japan).
Discuss.
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