snake and rabbit hit the road

Apparently there are quite a lot of snakes in Turkey. Naturally they're not quite as nasty as the ones in Australia, but they're here nonetheless, and here in considerable numbers.

I was thinking about them today, as I was going home from the city centre by bus.

To be more specific: I was thinking about the fact that a lot of snakes have extremely good close-up vision, whereas their long-range vision is rubbish. It's sometimes said that, for these species, anything further than a metre away is just an incomprehensible blur.

This is one reason (it occurred to me) why snakes would make really crap bus drivers.

The other reason, of course, is that it would be very difficult for them to brake or accelerate, on account of their tragic lack of feet. So then, if a snake found him- or herself in possession of a bus (I wondered), what would he or she do?

My guess, as we hurtled madly along the road known as Eskişehir Yolu, was that he'd (or she'd)* probably try to enlist a partner.

Before I continue, please note that the following is a dramatic re-enactment. All participants are trained actors. Only one small rodent was hurt in the process, and he more or less deserved it.

--------

"Mow wisten wabba," says the snake to the rabbit in his (not her) mouth, "V ony reasn I din'n bite you jss now uz m'cos I nee yo helw'."

"Huh? What?"

The snake uses his impressive jaw muscles to roll the rabbit around, trying to find a grip that makes it possible to speak a bit more clearly.

"I said I need your help!"

"Huh? Why?"

"I've got a bus, but I can't drive it."

"What? Are you NUTS?"

"No. I've got a bus ... really! Look, I'm gonna let you go and explain ... but if you run, I'll bite you, Ok?"

"Ok. No running."

"Right then." [spit]

"So, I killed this bus driver, and so now his bus is mine."

"Fucking snakes ... always solving your problems with your fucking fangs." **

"NO! Look, it wasn't like that ... honestly! I was just sleeping on the shoulder of a road, and this guy pulled up right next to me in a bus. I guess he was gonna run into the bushes for a pee, but he stepped right on me and he was wearing heavy boots. It scared the crap out of me! So y'know, I just bit him."

"Ah-huh. And?"

"And so I crawled onto the bus, just to see if I could work it. Keys were still in the ignition. I managed to turn them, and I discovered that I could control the steering wheel quite nicely with my stomach muscles - but obviously I couldn't reach the pedals. So will you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Sit on the floor under the driver's seat, and brake or accelerate when I tell you to?"

"Oh, for f---"

"C'mooooon! Remember what I said about biting. I only had a small rodent for lunch."

Half an hour later, the snake is on the road, yelling "Go, rabbit!" and "Brake, rabbit!" at regular intervals.

The bus is more or less on a stable heading, but because the snake can only see a metre ahead, the rabbit is having to stop and start violently. Every time there's an obstruction on the road, the rabbit finds himself with only tenths-of-a-second to react, and the bus lurches to a terrible halt as he screams "Fuck-a-doodle!" at the top of his lungs. Luckily, there are no passengers on board to be flung up and down the aisle.

--------

So yeah ... I was thinking all of this as I was standing on the bus. Which in turn led to the following thought:

"You know, anyone who's spent time in Ankara, and used the public transport system here, knows more or less EXACTLY what it would be like to be driven around by a short-sighted snake who has coerced an expleting rabbit into working the foot pedals for him."

Then I got off, feeling jarred and slightly nauseous as per usual.

The $64 million question: how is it that I always seem to end up choosing countries where the people drive like utter maniacs, refusing to acknowledge anything that's more than a metre ahead of them?

Answer: no freaking idea.
Just terrible luck, I s'pose.


(* Sorry for doing the unwieldy 'be sure to cover both genders' thing with pronouns. I'll stop it now, and just assume the snake is a boy.)

(** Recent ground-breaking research has revealed a previously unknown fact about rabbits: namely that they're among the most foul-mouthed creatures in all of nature. Badgers actually have an expression, "rabbit mouth", to refer to one who makes frequent use of 'colourful' language.)

mosques and moggies (four days in istanbul)

Because of issues with documents, Yuliya and Timur couldn't depart for Turkey at the same time as me. By the time we finally had their docs sorted it was already October. Luckily, though, that coincided with the Islamic Bayram holiday, which meant that I got to head over to Istanbul, look around for a couple of days, and then meet them at the airport when they arrived.

So basically, two things to say about Istanbul. Thing the first: Holy Crap ... what a city! It's just mind-blowing. Huge in scale, packed with history and be-jewelled with architectural wonders, extraordinarily beautiful in many places, rundown and ugly in others, extremely energetic all over (and likely very dangerous if you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time). The locals are warm and welcoming, the cafe culture is enviable, and there are more charming little wine bars than you could visit in a decade of Friday evenings – not to mention a killer skyline. The reality of being there was, I found, almost overwhelming ... but in a good way :-)

And the second thing: two days is not nearly enough. I barely scratched the surface. Gotta go back some time and do some more scratching – hopefully soon. But for now, let me sketch out a few impressions.

I arrived on a Sunday night, travelling with an Irish friend called Bryan. The airport shuttle deposited us directly around the corner from Taksim Maydani (Taksim Square), where the demonstrations and riots took place this summer. I must say, it was not a very inspiring location in itself – just an enormous flat area of concreted nothing. But having been on Kyiv's Maidan Nezalezhnisti (Independence Square) just two months earlier, I was still excited: I kept thinking to myself "Cool ... from one Maidan to the other!" 

From Taksim, there's a main thoroughfare running down towards the area known as Galata. This place begins to acquaint you with Istanbul's bustling street life – there are people everywhere, leaping onto trams (both inside and out), watching buskers, buying roasted chestnuts and fresh pomegranate juice from street stalls, talking into their mobiles, or just wandering. Wedged in between glossy western boutiques and Turkish bakeries displaying huge halva sculptures in their windows, Bryan managed to spot the headquarters of the Turkish communist party. So from crass western commercialism to subversive politics, it's all happening here :-)

At night the area remains very crowded and can be quite rough. On our first night, Bryan and I sat for a couple of hours outside a little nargeli (water pipe) place just off the main street. In the relatively short time we were there, we saw a forcible arrest (one of those that involves a pursuit, lots of shouting, and ends with a person pinned to the ground), and a woman's handbag exploded nearby. I'm not exaggerating – she was walking about 20m from us, holding her handbag, and then suddenly there was a fireball on the end of her arm. I still have no idea what caused the blast, but she was obviously less surprised than we were. Basically she just kept on walking.

Heading further down into Galata itself, towards the waterfront, the road splits into several smaller, narrower streets. On our second day, Bryan and I met up with a Bulgarian woman, Irena, and we headed down a street that took us through the 'music shop district'. There you see windows full of unfamiliar instruments, little no-fuss restaurants serving local cuisine (a few with baffling displays like the one pictured), and men sitting outside drinking tea and discussing ... err, actually, I have no idea what they were discussing. Maybe music? Affairs of the day? Of the heart? Or possibly just the football results. But anyway, they're out there in their caps and waistcoats, doing a fine job of enhancing the neighbourhood charm.

When you get down to the waterfront, you're greeted with a stunning view of Istanbul's Eminönü port area, and of a skyline dominated by the Yeni Camii ('New Mosque'). It's panoramic, to say the least! The part of it you can see in the pic below is only a small portion. Everywhere you look there are domes, minarets, and old, slender houses seemingly piled on top of each other. It's just breathtaking. 

To get over to Eminönü you cross a traffic bridge crowded with fishermen (from where, on our last day, Yuliya spotted a dolphin messing about in the harbour – right in the centre of the city!). Then you encounter the New Mosque at full scale, and let me say, it's quite the encounter! The building is nothing short of epic, and it only gets better when you get inside.

We arrived during prayer time, which at many mosques is a time when visitors/tourists are not allowed in. But the Yani Camii is an exception, and so we were treated to the spectacle of hundreds of believers praying under suspended rings of electric candle-light, with huge vaulted ceilings towering over them. It was quite a beautiful sight.

During the service I noticed something interesting that hadn't crossed my mind before. The Qur'an is always recited in Arabic, because it's considered that part of its spiritual power lies in the specific tone of that language. So when the Imam was reading from it, he naturally spoke in Arabic ... whereas in the 'sermon-like' parts, he switched to Turkish.

A few weeks earlier, I was talking to a Kurdish guy and I asked him about this. Lots of Muslims memorise sections of Qur'an, but if Arabic isn't their native tongue, do they understand what they're memorising? He told me that mostly they have a general idea, though they may not understand every word.

In the mosque, during the Arabic parts of the the service, the mood seemed almost meditative. And it occurred to me then that hearing 'holy words' in a foreign tongue might have exactly this effect. Rather than focus on the meaning, people might focus on the rhythm, and it could become entrancing. I've certainly had that experience while listening to languages I don't know, including Turkish. The thought intrigued me ... almost as much as the gorgeous ceiling details of the mosque itself.

We also got a look at the famous Blue Mosque, seen here through the camera lens of my cheap-ass smart phone, which I'd purchased just a few days earlier and didn't really know how to use yet. And yeah ... once again, suitably blown away :-)

Just as striking as Istanbul's architecture, however, is its four-legged, furry street life. I don't think I've ever been to a city as catful as this one. There are moggies at the docks, there are tabbies in the shops (and incidentally, the Turkish word for "of course" is tabii, so if someone asks you "Do you like cats?", you can reply "Tabii, tabii!". Wordy nerdy amusement for all!) And if you go off the main thoroughfares and venture into the inner city back streets, there are moments when you'd be forgiven for thinking that Istanbul was a city nearly abandoned by humans and colonised by felines. Seriously ... it rocks!

So yeah ... thus were spent my first couple of days in Istanbul: wander around, go Ooooh! at the pretty architecture, sit down for a meal and go Mmmmm at the amazing cuisine, look down to see what's rubbing against your leg and go Awwww! at the local kitties. I also met up with my dear friend Juliet, who has been living in Istanbul for a while and who correctly characterised Turkey as country in which "You can't move for pistachios". But to deal with the pistachio thing would double the length of this entry. Best left for another time, I reck'n ...

Anyway, the next day my family arrived, and from then on we did mostly 'kid stuff'. Luckily this currently involves things like going to aquariums (Timur is obsessed with fish), so it was quite entertaining. Two days later, we all hopped on a plane to Ankara.

I've been told by colleagues here that there's something called 'Istanbul Syndrome', which occurs at universities in Ankara. It's where a teacher comes and starts a contract at one of these universities, then visits Istanbul for the first time, falls in love with the place, is unable to get it out of their mind, and ends up breaking their contract to move there.

After just a few days in the city, I can totally understand that. My first taste of Istanbul has left me hungry for more. I'll be back before long, I'm sure ...

See you :-)

the flying-in headrush

There are few things more exciting than flying in to a new country.

Actually, I should qualify that. Let’s start by adding the phrase “for me” in there somewhere. I mean, obviously people have different priorities. I've heard talk of houses, cars, job security … quite the range of things which people seem to be rather keen on. So yeah, for some of the folk who generate such talk, I imagine there are lots of experiences more exciting than flying into a new country. And fair enough too.

For me, though, it's one of the biggies. That’s the first qualification.

The second: there are definitely times when flying into a country isn't quite as exciting as my opening sentence would have it. It can happen in Europe, for example, that you fly out of a pretty green land with a patchwork of fields below you, dotted by forest-ringed villages, and fly into another one that looks … well, from the air, virtually identical.

I’m thinking more of the complete transitions that happen when you take off from a country like, say, Ukraine and land in one like Egypt, as I did in 2010. On those kinds of flights, you start with the pleasant eastern European landscapes, but then just a few hours later you’re suddenly descending onto a full-on freaking desert, jutting out dramatically into the Red Sea. The birch trees have been replaced by palms, the green fields by swirling sands, the cool spring breeze by impetuous gusts of hot air that buffet your aircraft around in the sky, and when you finally disembark and reach the airport terminal, all the signs around you have changed from Cyrillic script to Arabic.

Those are the ones that bring out the excited little boy in me, my eyes bulging and my mind racing as I stare through my little round window at the destination.

I'm thinking about this tonight because I've just enjoyed one of the most breathtaking landings of my life. Once again, the starting point was L'viv in Western Ukraine. This time, however, my plane set down at Sabina Gökchen airport, which serves the city of Istanbul.

As we approached the runway, the little-round-window view was enough to make me start muttering expletives under my breath. My heart quite literally started beating faster*. Precipitously steep hills surround the city, many of them covered to the last possible inch with pastille-coloured high-rise blocks or older, crumbling two-storey houses. Other hills remain mysteriously bare, affording glimpses of the rust-brown Turkish soil and the occasional dramatic rock formation. Everywhere you look, you see slender minarets pricking the sky, while traffic darts wildly in every possible direction, like the tentacles of a frustrated octopus trying to explain something to a dim-witted friend for the fourth or fifth time. It is, briefly put, a stunning sight.

So now I'm sitting in the airport, thanking Allah for the utter fabulousness of Turkish food and the titanic strength of Turkish tea, both of which are making my five-hour layover a lot more pleasant. Later tonight I'll fly to Ankara, where my new teaching contract will begin in a few days' time. 

This is my first time ever in Turkey, and hence quite a big risk: the contract is two years long, and I'll be dragging my family here with me once we get their documents sorted out. But right now, it all seems like it can't possibly go wrong. Why? Because a little bit of that flying-in headrush is still coursing through my system, and I'm just ridiculously excited about being here. 

I love this feeling. 

May it last until at least 2015, if not longer. 

:-)

(* Btw, I'm not one of those irritating people who use the word "literally" about things that clearly aren't literal at all. So yeah ... this actually did happen.)