public transportation: a love letter.

It’s Valentine’s Day. Turkey decided to celebrate by ordering an extra-dreary batch of rain and charging 10 TL for a handful of flowers instead of 2 TL. I can’t say I disagree. The bakery shop by my house, “Gül,” or “Rose,” is full of old men drinking tea and grabbing a sweet snack before they go home to their nightly program of dinner and TV soap operas. I didn’t see anyone carting out a cake or a box of chocolates for their schnookum when I walked by an hour ago. I don’t know if it’s because the old timers leave that stuff to the kids, or because Turks don’t really understand the totally mandatory consumer-driven nature of this holiday. Truth be told, I’m not sure how widely it’s celebrated. I made Aydın a little card and gave it to him on Sunday and he looked totally bewildered. He told me it was the first card of its kind he’d ever received and then he smiled awkwardly and put it on his shelf of family heirlooms next to the super old knives and the vodka glasses he got in Ukraine. Haha.

Anyway. Enough about this blasted day. Let’s talk about sexy, sweet, tender Public Transportation.

One of the things I love about my friend Laura’s blog on her (most recent) adventures in Seoul is that it’s organized. She talks about subjects, rather than whatever strikes her while she’s typing a sentence. I kind of do the opposite, and you, readers, must wade through the muck. Sorry.

But not today!

It was yesterday when a possibly mute and definitely mustachio’d old lady patted the coveted seat next to her in a gesture of friendship on the minibus that it hit me: in my frequent discussion of Turkish culture and life, I have neglected one of the most important aspects. Getting from place to place. Without a car. Hell, even with a car.

To give you some background. Istanbul, as you might’ve heard, is the only city that spans two continents. Really. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s true. Google map it. Half of the city is in Europe, and half of it is in Asia. To deal with that, there are two (?) major bridges that span the Bosphorus (the water dividing the two), and lots of ferries. To make matters more complicated, European Istanbul is split in half by a smaller body of water called the Golden Horn. At least two major bridges span that. So Istanbul is cut up into three pieces - huge pieces. If that weren’t enough, it’s also home to 17 MILLION people, all of whom seem to be going somewhere precisely when you need to. That’s fucking bonkers, is it not? Considering just how old of a city it is and how negligible urban planning has been for this behemoth, traveling anywhere successfully and in a timely manner is a true miracle. It seems one either arrives late, due to omnipresent “trafik,” or early, because one overcompensated. To combat ancient urban sprawl and the needs of its people, the city of Istanbul offers many options to its residents and visitors. I think at this point I’ve been “lucky” enough to have participated in all:

-Cars (and motorcycles, I guess). You know. Some people have cars. Cars here are absurdly expensive. Think along the lines of twice as much as you pay at home. And then add a chunk of change to the price tag and call it a 26% government tax.
-Ever-present yellow taxis. Taxis here aren’t ridiculously expensive as long as you either get a quote for the ride before you get in, or you can be confident that the driver isn’t taking you for an extended trip because he knows you don’t know where the fuck you’re going. I’ve had some taxi drivers talk to me and some of them won’t even make eye contact. All will drive like maniacs, though. None will obey traffic rules of any kind.

-The bus. I don’t like taking the bus because the routes are never marked and I am confident only in that I will get severely lost. There are too many bus lines to shake a stick out though. I can’t even begin to guess how many.

-The minibus. Much like it sounds, the “minibus” is indeed a miniature bus. Think old VW wagon painted a dirty cream color, slap on some dents, some mysterious odors, the fact that it never fully stops, and a sign on the front with a list of general destinations. Minibuses essentially travel fixed routes and are ride-share vans untouched by law and public safety standards. If you see one going your way and you want to hop on, you put your hand out (much like the Knight Bus!), hop in as it slows down for you and then mumble your destination to the fierce multi-tasking driver as he smokes a cigarette, chats to his friend up front, and makes change for some yahoo in the back. You then hand him a perhaps arbitrary fare for wherever it is you’re going. Actually, that’s not fair. They’re not arbitrary. My sometimes half-an-hour ride from Șirinevler to Aydın’s apartment in Güneşli is always 1.70 TL. But that is nowhere posted.

As I mentioned, my jaunt on the minibus yesterday afternoon inspired this entry. I’m not sure whether I love or hate it. The drivers are notoriously insane and hot blooded. I often have to close my eyes when I’m on it because I’m sure that we’re either a) going to die in five seconds, or b) hit the dumb guy running across the street in three. Shockingly, neither has happened. Yet. Because of the nature of the system, minibuses are usually uncomfortably crowded, and unless you get on towards the start of the route, you are almost inevitably left standing in-between two old men who reek of sweat and cigarettes, or two young men who reek of Axe Body Spray and ill-conceived lunch breath. And then there are the times, especially in Güneşli (which is much more conservative), where you get the evil eye from five un-tweezed women in headscarves for flagrant and lewd behavior such as wearing purple tights and a knee-length skirt. Or eyeliner. What I love about the minibus is how it’s the perfect case study of Turkish honesty and general good will towards others. Because so many people are traveling in a confined, moving space it’s often impossible to get up to the driver to hand him your moolah. So instead, people will pass their change or bills up through the other passengers, telling them their destination as they go. What this means is that six people could touch your money before it reaches the driver. Which means that six people could steal from you - easily - but they don’t. Not even when the driver passes back change. That’s remarkable, isn’t it? And aside from me, the quiet, mute foreigner, everyone happily participates in this communal effort. You tap the person sitting or standing in front of you and hand them your coins and say a few words. Magic. People helping people. Whoa.

-The dolmuş. Just a smaller, faster, possibly crazier version of the minibus.
-The tram(vay.) It’s a lightrail tram. There are two lines. It stole my heart the first time I took it from my mom’s hotel in historic Sultanahmet to my old apartment in Bakırköy, almost the length of the line. My old roommate used to make fun of me for my tram-loyalty because it does take forever, but it takes you past some really enchanting scenes in the city. And when it’s cold outside, the windows fog up and it feels like a barn. I’m sure in the summer it smells like one, too.

-The metro. There are at least two lines, and its major difference from the tram is that it’s mostly underground instead of above it. Faster but less charming.

-The “suburban rail.” Ok. Haven’t taken this one. I think it might go right on the water front, but I’m not sure.

-The ferry, or IDO - Istanbul Deniz Otobus / Istanbul Sea Bus. Some ferries take cars, but most just take people. My friend Chip hauled me on my first trip on the IDO last week. Our ride from Bakırköy to charming Asian neighborhood Kadıköy was twenty minutes of warm, gentle bliss. We talked about our mutual fear and awe of the sea, how sexy some Turkish men are, how inappropriate students can sometimes get, and Pasadena public schools.

When you add all these together, you get one massive, chaotic, perpetually congested metropolis. Just prime for missed connections, tramvay crushes, and old men pinching unsuspecting butts. Ah, Istanbul. How I love thee, most days.

(this isn't public transportation, but it is adorable.)