Istanbul: Citi of rude taxi drivers




Photo by Gabrielle

Istanbul is the only city in the world that lies on two continents – Europe and Asia. (Needless to say, I was determined to find a way of being in both continents at the same time…so I could shout that I was in both continents at the same time…stop judging me.) The city used to be the capital of the Roman, Byzantine, Latin and Ottoman empires. I forgot everything I learned about the empires, but I’m sure they were important.

Istanbul’s old name of Constantinople came from the Roman Emperor Constantine the Great, who rebuilt the city on seven hills (like the famous seven hills of Rome).

Istanbul was the 2010 Capitial of Culture and is currently bidding to host the 2020 Summer Olympics.

Not only did the famous Trojan Wars take place in Turkey, it is also the birthplace of Homer himself, along with King Midas, St Nicholas (that’s right…Santa Claus), Herodotus (the father of history) and St. Paul (the Apostle.) Noah’s Ark landed on Mount Ararat in Eastern Turkey and Jay Z Julius Caesar proclaimed his celebrated words “Veni, Vidi, Vici” (I came, I saw, I conquered) there when he defeated Pontus.

Two of the seven wonders of the ancient world were in Turkey and it is said the Garden of Eden was too - which I find interesting since the first human civilization was in Turkey. (Part of Mesopotamia is in modern-day Turkey.)

As much as I’d like to pretend these fascinating facts were the reason I chose to visit Turkey…I can’t lie. I saw a commercial where this couple moves to Istanbul – it looked awesome. I was particularly interested in the whirling dervishes and spice market.

Turkey it is, I decided. Thanks Citi Bank.

I can't decide if the commercial worked on me or not. I didn't join Citi Bank... but I flew to Istanbul.

Right when I stepped off the plane I immediately started sweating. (Charming.) I don’t understand Celsius (frankly, it’s just un-American) but I’m pretty sure I could’ve cooked an egg or two  on the sidewalk.

Before I left Orange County I made sure to print out directions from the airport to my hostel (at least I think that’s what it was – the addresses in Turkey look like someone slammed on their keyboard and decided “aisgwp9oshafaw3ea” sounded reasonable enough.)

I find a line of taxis and being from California, I’m unfamiliar with taxi etiquette. Do I just step in the car? Do I wave? Do I smile and wait for their reaction? I felt like I was partaking in some type of mating ritual. Maybe if I show off my luggage they’ll like me and let me in their car. Finally I made eye contact with a driver who nodded, which I assume in taxi-mating means I found a match.

“Hi,” I say while rummaging through my bag for the directions.

He replies with a grunt. I couldn’t tell if it was in English or Turkish.

“Han Hostel North, please.”

He stares at me in the mirror.

“Er…here.” I say handing him the directions.

He continues staring at me in the mirror.

I put the directions in his face and point at the name of the hostel.

“Tsk tsk tsk tsk,” he replies as he starts to drive.

“Um…”

Silence.

I couldn’t believe I got tsk’d. It was the same tsk my dad gives me when I say a bad word or burp too loudly. And I still wasn’t sure if he knew where I needed to go.

“Do you know where that is?” I ask.

Silence.

Thus began my inner monologue, which went something like this: “Okay…did he hear me? He probably didn’t…He’s not answering. Is he ignoring me? He must’ve heard me. Did he hear me? I don’t know. This is awkward. Where am I going? It’s so damn hot. I think he’s mad at me. I bet it’s because I’m American. Why does everyone hate us? I should make friends with him.”

“So, how do you like being a taxi driver?” I ask, trying to make small talk.

He nods.

“Great. That’s nice. Me too,” I say. Apparently I’m a taxi driver.

At this point it’s pretty clear the man doesn’t speak English and in the 30 seconds of knowing him (which I assumed would become a long – lasting friendship), I managed to piss him off.

Little did I know this was pretty normal for taxi drivers. My experiences with them made me feel like a horrible person. My second time using a taxi, the driver sighed heavily from the moment I entered his car to the moment I exited. My third time using a taxi the man continuously “ay-yi-yi” ‘d entire time.

There was always a language barrier but the apparent disappointment I caused these men could be understood universally. I concluded that drivers either hate their lives or I’m just an asshole.