Speed Racer

People in Istanbul drive like they are at an arcade playing a video game or driving go karts around a tire buffered racetrack. Only there can the freedom of hitting someone be realized, the fear of totaling your car ignored. For normal people that is… I thought Greek drivers were crazy but here in Turkey there are even less rules and no one follows them. There are also 10 million more people in Istanbul than there are in Athens. Here there are no lanes, no right of way, and every person competes to see who can do the most stupid things consecutively. They dart in and out, cut each other off, pass people on the shoulder of highways, and no one stays in their lane. Its basically a free for all with a lot of honking and yelling. We pass people on the wrong side of the road with cars in plain view up ahead, back out of streets onto arterials with a small wave to oncoming cars, and off road it through construction sites to get to our gym. Me and my English speaking teammates (one other American and an Australian) have gotten to instigating our driver. We clap if he cuts someone off-“Bravo,” we say. And yell “Allah Allah” if some other driver is doing something stupid which is pretty often.

The first week I was here I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen any accidents. Of course I spoke far too soon. On the way home from practice suddenly we braked hard and everyone lurched forward as we skidded for a good 10 seconds, finally stopping by t- boning a car with three women, frozen in the road like deer in headlights, their bright floral printed headscarves jerking violently as the bus slammed into their passenger door. Then we proceeded to hang out in the bus for an hour waiting for the police, blocking the entire lane, laughing as cars crashed into the curb behind us, trying to get past.

Now that I have been here five weeks I am pretty accustomed to the driving and no longer gasp at every close call. When we are rushing to practice and every attempt to find a shortcut finds us waiting for five minutes for the one way road to clear out, every corner met with another back up of vehicles, I am not surprised. I know that it could take us anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour to get to practice, depending on traffic, and almost hitting small children is just part of life in the big city. Seriously though, kids play soccer in the streets, chasing balls past rushing vehicles and run down the street in their school uniform and no one seems to be concerned. We honk at old women and pin them up against cars trying to get by, yell at hunched over old men with their wheelbarrows of fruit and nuts. It can be scary, or it can be really fun if you don’t think about it too much.