When does a foreign experience cease to feel foreign? After living here three times in the past decade, and after a year now, I still don’t feel complacent about everyday life in Turkey. For example, almost every night I hear celebratory gunshots in my neighborhood, as it’s wedding and circumcision season.
Here’s another story: Last Sunday evening I went to the gym and then shopping at Carrefour. I took a taxi there, and it cost about 8 YTL, or $6. So I took a scheduled dolmus back home. I got the last seat on my bus, but as there were still 15 minutes til it left, people kept getting on. Two women sat on a hump next to the driver. Others stood in the aisle. Then a guard came and told everyone who didn’t have a seat to get off. One woman argued for about five minutes with him. Then he announced that children could sit on the hump (go figure, let the kids die first). So a few switched around, but standing passengers had to get off. I know that these are new rules for dolmuses, but it surprises me that in this patriarchic society a woman would argue with a man in a uniform.
Anyway, made it home with my salty braided cheese and olives. After a week in Germany I sort of missed them…
Also missed Turkish bread, which I think is among the best in the world. Photo above is taken in my favorite bakery, a very upscale place, and indicative of where my Anatolian City is headed.
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