Suicidal driving in Turkey

I first got my drivers' licence back in 1986 and it was one of the toughest experiences I have ever gone through. Months and months of weekly lessons, not to mention their cost, and then finally the test. The last time I was back home, I saw how much more difficult it had become in the UK when a friend mentioned her daughter's driving lessons. Computerized now, with more rules to memorize and tougher test criteria. Nice, but why are people driving shittier, then?

As for drivers here in Turkey, driving is a case of bad, worse and downright suicidal. Last weekend I counted every 7 out of 10 drivers and passengers wearing seatbelts despite it being mandatory. The number of women who obstinately sit in the front seat with their baby or child on their lap is so ridiculously high it's obscene. In any case, children are always sitting in the front, no matter their age. 

I rarely manage to read Turkish newspapers, but I do sometimes read online headlines just to keep up. Apparently they're going to make getting a licence in Turkey harder. Personally, I think they should recall every single licence they've ever given out until now - like toys made in China - and make everyone take a re-test. Anyway, last week the President of The Driving Schools Association, Vedat Sahin, made some interesting comments in his statement. In fact, I was so shocked that I was sure I got my Turkish all muddled, but my husband later confirmed I had read it correctly. To sum up in a nutshell, he said (translated); 

"Under the new regulations, learners will drive in both day and night conditions, learn how to park, reverse and use signals... be failed for not wearing their seatbelt during the test... passed drivers will know how to drive by themselves the next day."

After splitting my sides about the fact that if learners aren't taught these in the first place, then what exactly are they teaching at those driving schools? How to find FM on the radio? Well, my three year-old can do that. (While parked in front of the house, mind you.) No, after a couple minutes, the reality of his words sunk in. And, it's as clear as day that he's speaking the truth. I have only to step out into the street to see that.

The biggest culture shock for me was the traffic and I still haven't got used to it. I'm still trying to drive using my British road safety sensibilities which were drummed into me at a very early age when our zebra crossing constable used to come to our school and talk to us about it. But here, people get mad at you for adhering to speeding limits, stopping for old ladies and school-children at pedestrian crossings. Not taking off when the light turns yellow. Stopping when it turns red. And they think you're coming on to them if you wave a thank-you for giving you right of way. Which doesn't happen often, thankfully.

Christmas at the New Year

I was recently asked by Brian at Istanbulblogger - an Englishman in Istanbul, I'm very excited to say - how I would be celebrating Christmas. You know, it's been so long since I've spent Christmas in London that I don't even remember when to celebrate it! The reason being, there are no Christmas holidays over here, understandably. So, when you have children in school you can't just take them away for two weeks.

New Year's Night: Nisantasi, Istanbul

The New Year is celebrated in a very cosmopolitan manner in Turkey; people put up decorations, lights and trees and it doesn't seem all that different in appearance. Of course, the spirit isn't present nor are the aromas of mince pies and gingerbread in the air while you enjoy a tea break during late night shopping. I miss seeing Santa's house set up in the middle of the shopping centre where you don't mind waiting in line for an hour with the kids for a photo and a present.

I'm an only child and, with only one English parent who grew up overseas himself and a Turkish mother, Christmas was often a pretty quiet affair at home. However, a traditional dinner, our box of decorations in the attic and the hide-the-presents game (I swear I never could find them!) were things to look forward to without fail. And, guessing who of our family members scattered across the world would manage to turn up at the last minute was the exciting part of Christmas for me.

Here, life goes on as usual; work, school. I compromise by putting up a tiny tree and decorating it with the children a week before Christmas. We've fallen into the Turkish pattern of celebrating with turkey dinner and gifts on New Years' Day because you get the next day off, so you can drink your wine, have friends and family over and the kids can go to bed late. Perhaps, when the kids are older and independent I might start snatching a weeks' Christmas holiday back home for myself...

Are expats without borders?

I recently commented on a blog, which is something I don't really do that often, especially if I don't know the blogger personally. I know - not good 'social networking' practise. Well, that's a topic for another day. Anyway, I won't name the blog as it's not really relevant to the present issue and as I'm going to whine, the owner of the blog may not appreciate being mentioned...

The blog post was something about a certain crafting celebrity not being featured so largely in countries other than her own. A perfectly valid topic and a personal viewpoint, which means it shouldn't really be attacked. I enjoyed the blog post and was intrigued by the ensuing comments. Around 80% of the responses were derisive of the blogger's topic and rudely mocking of the infamous crafter in question. Now, personally, I don't love nor hate that particular celebrity as she is quite far removed from my culture and lifestyle as it is possible to be. Yet, she is doing me no harm! She is firmly and happily ensconced far away from me, Britain and Turkey and is not threatening to turn the Brits into pumpkin-carving, card-making, fifty-layers-of-bedlinen buying fanatics any day soon. So, why should I call her rude names or wish bad things upon her?

However, I felt I should voice my opinion as to why she's not popular in my neighbourhood, but also to say that there was no need to be rude about her. I think being an expat - as well as a cross-breed - kind of gives me the 'live and let live' edge. Don't like a person? Fine, but let it go - there are people that do.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I received a response to my comment from a complete stranger from Germany (not the blogger herself). This person wrote nothing about the celebrity in question, but instead poked fun at my comments about Britain and how her experience during visits to London were so different. I won't repeat the comment, but it made me think. This person is living in her own country, therefore does not experience pining, nostalgia and memories as acutely as we do. This must therefore give her the luxury of being publicly mocking of other cultures and nations. Now, honestly, we all do this in some context, don't we? But, never perhaps directly, or so publicly? And, I've noticed, expats are a little softer around the edges when it comes to discussing other people and nations. There's just that little bit more hesitation before speaking, careful avoidance of anything which may be offensive. Also, there's more defensiveness. You get to experience and appreciate other beliefs and cultures, and respect them. You have no choice but to be open-minded, in the beginning. After all, you are the one 'invading' so to speak.

Anyway, at the end of a very long and derisive talking down, does it ever make sense to end with '...by the way, dont get me wrong, I like London and the British...' Oh, okay. I somehow didn't get that from the 200 words you just spent completely slating the place...

Why do expats become creative?

I don't know if it's a coincidence, but it seems all of the expats I come across are involved in creative businesses, entrepreneurship or writing. A lot of expats have already written about this, so I won't expand into psychology too much. But, it's something which really fascinates me. 

Tales from the Expat Harem: Foreign Women in Modern Turkey (Seal Women's Travel)

Do we find ourselves so unable to conform to another culture's workplace ethics and regulations that we simply say 'Sod it, I'm going to work for myself'? Or is it that the whole business of changing your whole life makes you re-consider your career goals?

Personally, it was part of the first option which pushed me into working from home. I wasn't very good at understanding the hours that were kept, the only partially followed rights of the working mother and speaking the same language in the bathroom at work. Travel to and from work was a major nightmare. Fun if you're an adventurous tourist but not day in day out when you have evening meals and homework to worry about.

So I don't regret holing up at home - I love this country as much as I love the UK, but I'm perfectly happy to hide at home for most part of the day. Until, at least, the working day is over. 

* A referral link has been used in my post.

Expat communities

I think the state of being an ex-pat is so unique in that the feeling of close-knit community is unlike any other. If I were still in Britain, I would have my usual gaggle of girlfriends, colleagues and family. But the circle of friends I have here is unusual - you try extra hard to help and guide one another. You try that much more to get along with someone you normally wouldn't give the time of day to at home.

Perhaps, everyone has an opportunity to enhance their better qualities when they are themselves in unfamiliar surroundings. Of course, it could always be sheer desperation...

This morning I got a call from a young American who was literally stranded here. He had been invited over to teach and when the agreement fell apart, he was left here, in a foreign land, all by himself. The first thing everyone around him thought was, 'let's get him in touch with his own 'sort'.'


Actually, this is a nice thing. Nice for him that he suddenly has these people who speak the same language to rally round for him, and nice for us that we have one more shiny new friend. In what other situation would you ever see this happen with no ulterior expectations?

Ever moved the earth for love?

Maybe not the whole earth itself, but I have certainly moved across half of the earth for love.

This particular yarn of this particular expat begins with the move I made from one distant corner of Europe - the UK - to the very edge of Europe - Turkey - exactly 17 years ago. A move I may not have made if I had not been deliriously in love with a man who made my new home seem all the more exotic and all the more romantic.

Have I regretted it? No. I'm still happily in love.

And now I'm ready to share all of the trials, tears and beautiful experiences which are so typical of an expat's life. I hope you'll enjoy the journey.