Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Istanbul Déjà Vu
When I was in my twenties, I i nished eight European trips in a row in Turkey.
I didn't plan it that way—it was the natural i nale, the subconscious cherry
on top of every year's travel adventures. While my passion for Turkey hasn't
faded, my ability to spend time there has been a casualty of my busy schedule
researching guidebooks and producing public television shows. But recently,
realizing I hadn't set foot in Istanbul for nearly a decade, I made a point to
return to the city where East meets West. h e comforting similarities and
jarring dif erences between today's Istanbul and the Istanbul I remember
i lled the trip both with nostalgia and with vivid examples of how change is
sweeping the planet.
h e moment I stepped of my plane, I remembered how much I enjoy
this country. Marveling at the ei ciency of Istanbul's Atatürk Airport, I
popped onto the street and into a yellow
taksi
. Seeing the welcoming grin
of the unshaven driver who greeted me with a
“ M e r h a b a ,”
I just blurted out,
“Çok güzel.”
I forgot I remembered the phrase. It just came to me—like a
baby shouts for joy. I was back in Turkey, and it was “very beautiful” indeed.
My i rst hours in Turkey were i lled with similar déjà vu moments like no
travel homecoming I could remember.
As the
taksi
turned of the highway and into the tangled lanes of the
tourist zone—just below the Blue Mosque—all the tourist-friendly busi-
nesses were still lined up, providing a backdrop for their chorus line of barkers
shouting, “Yes, M ister!”
I looked at the dirty kids in the streets and remembered a rougher time, when
kids like these would earn small change by hanging out the passenger door of
ramshackle vans. h ey'd yell “ Topkapı, Topkapı, Topkapı” (or whichever neigh-
borhood was the destination) in a scramble to pick up passengers in the shared
minibuses called
dolmus.
(h e
dolmus
—a wild cross between a taxi, a bus, and
a kidnapping vehicle—is literally and so appropriately called “stuf ed”).
While Turkey's new al uence has nearly killed the
dolmus,
the echoes of the
boys hollering from the vans bounced happily in my memory: “Aksaray, Aksaray,
Aksaray...Sultanahmet, Sultanahmet, Sultanahmet.” I remembered my favorite
call was for the train station's neighborhood: “Sirkeci, Sirkeci, Sirkeci.”
Istanbul, a city of over 10 million, is thriving. h e city is poignantly
littered both with remnants of grand (if eventually corrupt) empires and
with living, breathing reminders of the harsh reality of life in the developing
world. Sipping my tea, I watched old men shul e by, hunched over as if still
