All For a Bit of Coin

Sometimes when I travel long distances I like to think about how many different forms of travel I have used and how far I’ve gone.

This usually only happens when I’m travelling 12,000 miles (around the globe). I recall a particularly arduous time travelling from Edinburgh, Scotland to Wellington, New Zealand. Interestingly, both cities are capitals, but neither are the largest city in that country – just like Turkey.

Yesterday I found myself having similar thoughts even though I never left Istanbul.

In the morning I went to the Asian continent on an otobüs (normal bus). Each way was relatively short – just 20-30 minutes. On the way there I started from the terminal station and so I got a seat. On the way back I was standing. I’d say it’s pretty common to be standing – say 80% of the time or more.

Later in the day I travelled to a student’s home in Bahçeşehir. This was the first time I’d travelled by myself to his house. Prior to travelling I’d looked at the internet for a long time checking out the location and how to get there. This entailed looking at two different maps of Istanbul, because whilst one has very good aerial views the other shows the bus stops clearly.

What I hadn’t factored into my travel plans was that I was travelling in darkness. I guess I’m still getting used to the idea that at 5pm it can be pitch black outside.

I left home at 5.30pm and returned at 11.30pm. This was for one class! An hour and a half class!

First, I headed off to the bus station and found the correct bus. Luckily it was just about to leave. Unluckily it was very crowded being peak time for people returning home from work. I just managed to squeeze in the door.

5 minutes later we actually took off – after another 5 people managed to “just squeeze in the door”. You can imagine the “sardines in a tin” scenario.

So here I am seriously squashed in between a man and a woman on a journey to a city I’ve only visited before by car. Due to my careful research I knew which bus stop I needed to get off and I had a small map printed off the internet in my pocket. I was feeling reasonably confident that I’d be successful. Much more so than I usually do. To explain – I get very nervous when travelling to new places solo. In fact it would be fair to say I literally panic.

I completely lost track of the time on the bus because I was focused on not banging into the women whilst being pissed off with the man who was elbowing me. In actual fact it’s impossible to not bang into people. You just have to manage it as best you can. And if you want pay credence to local custom you need to be particularly careful of bumping into women (as a man). Unfortunately this is because of the lewd behaviour of the local men on public transport. I can’t relate the stories I’ve heard on a public “family” forum.

At some point, as is often the case in such a confined space with huge amounts of human body heat present, I started to boil. I took off my jacket, which in itself was a bit of a mission with so little room. In the process I ended up bumping at least 3 different people. Nevertheless by the end of the trip I was sweating even though it’s the middle of winter.

After standing for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, being in bumper-to-bumper traffic, and suffering a driver who fancied himself as a rally driver in peak traffic, we finally came to the first stop.

As I looked out the foggy window (a combination of the cold outside and the heat inside) I realised that there were no physical bus stops and no signs either!

At this point my anxiety started to set-in. My well laid-out plans weren’t going to help me so much. I hoped that this might be just for the early stops as they were in the middle of nowhere. I figured that once we got to more populous areas that there would be actual bus stops with some indication of which bus stop they were.

You can imagine my disappointment then as we moved from stop to stop and the same pattern emerged – no signs.

A problem that occurs when I get stressed or anxious is that my body temperature rises dramatically. So not only was I sweating from the heat, the turbo-boost had been turned on as I was also sweating from being anxious.

Time for plan B. Actually I had no plan B so I was making it up on-the-fly. I noticed that we passed a Migros supermarket and recalled passing one the last time we were here in the car. Initially I thought this was a good thing. I had found a recognisable landmark.

As we passed it the bus went through a roundabout and travelled along a windy, twisting round. I definitely didn’t recall this from the previous visit. So at the next stop I got out.

Not being able to see so well outside I didn’t realise that the place I had got off the bus was in the middle of the motorway. Fortunately there was a restaurant nearby which I went into and asked where Bahçeşehir was.

Now if you’ve ever travelled to a country where English isn’t the mother tongue and you don’t speak the local language you’ll be familiar with the fun process of asking for directions. Added to that in Turkey is the desire of the Turks to be ever-so-helpful. Their enthusiasm can sometimes lead you in the wrong direction, which I believe isn’t their intention at all – it’s just culturally polite to be helpful in some shape or form.

I didn’t feel overwhelmed with relief with their answer. They gave me the impression that it was a long way away. But the first step they explained was simple enough – just walk 100m down the road.

What I didn’t know at this stage was if I was in front of or behind my intended destination. Nor did I know whether the journey required to get there was a foot one or a vehicle one.

Knowing how infrequently the buses are at that time of night I didn’t fancy waiting at the cold, exposed bus stop. Hence I started walking along the motorway – not a pleasant experience at the best of times.

I called my friend and tried to explain where I was and what I was doing which only lead to her being stressed as well. However, it was necessary, because only she could explain to my student (beginner level) – a friend of hers - that I would be late.

Some time later I came across a small collection of shops. I asked a man, who was waiting for a ride outside on the street, to talk to my friend on my mobile to help her understand where I was so we could form a plan of action. Although I didn’t understand what was being said I could tell from the body language and tone that there was some confusion as to our location. Nevertheless he seemed to understand where I wanted to go.

I spoke to my friend and realised she wasn’t entirely sure of the location so we agreed to go into a local shop and ask again. Inside, the young man I approached seemed to have no clues at all. His respones on the phone were monosyllabic and very short.

To my surprise, when I spoke with my friend she told me that he knew exactly what to do and where to go and that he would tell me himself. So I hung up the phone and he proceeded to be the fountain-of-all-knowledge. And to my relief his instructions coincided with those we’d received from the man we’d spoken to outside.

So off I trundled again along the motorway, which thankfully soon became a normal street. After walking the prescribed 100m (this seems to be the local distance regardless of how far it is. Much like in Thailand where every cheap item tourists want to buy costs 20 baht regardless of what it is) I realised it wasn’t 100m at all. The road I was on stretched into the distance and in fact I couldn’t see the turn that I needed to take at all.

What else could I do but continue walking?

Again I called my friend, more just because I needed to get some morale support than anything else. I continued walking for some time and eventually saw the turning, which in fact was a fork in the road. I knew I needed to head left, which was supported by the fact that to the left there was a big shopping mall whereas to the right there appeared to be more dark streets. Regardless of which was correct I felt more comfortable heading towards civilisation than away from it.

Again (again) I called my friend. To her delight she knew this series of shops at the end of which was the cami (mosque) she had been talking about earlier on. This was a huge comfort to me as hitherto I hadn’t really known if I was on the right road, going the right way, or making my future journey shorter or longer!

She said I was very close and gave me directions to get there. To add to my still sweaty condition, which was more unpleasant by now as I was stripping off clothes, even though outside there was a sharp bite to the coldness. My face and hands were freezing but my general body temperature was high enough to keep me cooking.

Approximately 20 minutes later I hit another group of shops. I knew I had to find the Onur Market. But scanning this group of shops a few times I realised it wasn’t here. I dropped into a shop selling washing machines and the lady confidently told me it was just up the road – which it was!

Then I turned right and for the first time saw a landmark that I recognised. It was the entrance to the residential complex that my client lived in. I expelled a huge sigh of relief and texted my friend I was safe and sound.

As I continued climbing the step hill a funny thought occurred to me. This particular complex was only affordable to the very well off. As is usually the case with some of the more expensive housing areas their complex is fenced off from the general public and they have their own security people at the gate. It sounds serious but it’s not. You simply explain who you are here to see, they call them on the phone to confirm you are expected, and then they let you in.

The funny thing to me was that it must have been one of the very few times that someone was walking into the complex. As I sauntered on up to the security gate the guard had a sceptical look on his face. I’m sure he though I was in the wrong place.

My client and his wife had big smiles on their faces as I arrived as surely my friend had been keeping them abreast of my movements. Needless to say I was relieved to take my shoes off and sit down and relax.

[Intermission – for you J I’ll keep typing]

As part of the planning that I’d done prior to embarking on this epic journey I’d discovered that there was no public transport directly available from their home when the class finished. I’d been told that the client would drive me to the nearest transport link, although when it came to it he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic and in fact was talking to my friend about other options.

Nevertheless he did take me, which I must say I wasn’t overly comfortable with. He’s the client after all and I didn’t like it that he had to leave his warm, comfortable home so late and in such horrible weather.

He dropped me off at a bus stop. Naturally I had no idea where I was. I simply waited for the first bus to arrive.

Upon arriving I had an amusing interaction with the driver. I asked him if his bus went to Mecidiyeköy, which is where I live. Thinking about it now it was a silly question as it clearly said it went to Bakirköy on the front. I guess it could have gone in a very circular way to reach Bakirköy (which is nowhere near M’köy).

He went on to explain - the little that I understood - that I could get on his bus and change somewhere. Now to the layman this might sound simple enough, but, due to my lack of confidence, I didn’t take him up on his offer, which probably would have been the simplest thing to do.

And so I waited. And waited. And ... During this time 3 mini buses had passed and then finally another otobüs which was going in another direction. Rather than wait indefinately I headed up the road and went into a petrol station to ask questions.

A second factor that affects me when anxious is that I get hungry. Hardly surprising as I’m burning up nervous energy at an epic rate.

I grabbed a Coke and asked about directions home. I really didn’t understand much at all, but it was clear that the buses stopping here wouldn’t get me home. The cashier gave me some very elaborate directions, which I didn’t follow, so I decided to take a mini bus instead.

Most mini buses hit a metrobüs (rapid transport) station at some point in their travels. And so it was with the one I got on, although it didn’t say so on the front, which they usually do. I asked which metrobüs station he was going to and was disappointed to hear it was Sefaköy. I’d not been out so far before. Fortunately though I knew where it was and I knew that I could get home from there either on one or two metrobuses.

The thing with mini buses is that to maximise their returns (you pay in cash as you get on) they tend to travel on back streets where the buses don’t go and travel in the most non-direct ways imaginable. Essentially they cover the routes that the buses don’t.

Usually they cover pretty short distances connecting people across the major public transport routes or between local shopping centres. Prior to this trip the longest mini bus ride I’d been on was 15 minutes. This one was 1 hour!

Even when we got there I couldn’t see the metrobüs station. A friend of the driver understood that I was lost and helped me find the station.

Now it was just a case of waiting for the metrobüs, standing on that for 40 minutes and I’d be within walking distance of my home.

So let’s summarise:

1.   Walk – 10 mins

2.   Otobüs - 1 hour maybe?

3.   Walk – 5 mins

4.   Walk – 15 mins

5.   Walk – 30 mins

6.   Walk – 10 mins

7.   Car – 10 mins

8.   Wait – 15 mins

9.   Mini bus – 1 hour

10.                 Metrobüs – 40 mins

11.                 Walk – 10 mins

Total travel time: something like 4 hours

Total class time: 1.5 hours

All for a bit of coin….