Rude Boy

Wow! I have been trying to open this site for the last hour and finally, I am in! I managed to set this computer to accept cookies for my blogsite in Turkish. This is an achievement. I guess my Turkish really is getting better!

So, I absolutely must write about rudeness in Istanbul, as I often think about it. First, I need to start with an acknowledgment that the Turks are some of the most welcoming and gracious people I have met. I have been given many a cup of Nescafe, countless little glasses of tea and even a few beers for no good reason... simply because people are nice. You can tell by their faces that they are sincere, and I, myself, have not been treated badly even once. I have not been hassled, except by one scam artist who tricked me into getting a shoe shine on Galata Bridge, but that was hardly a big deal. It was a very '80s squeegee-guy moment. This is a very cultured place.

I also acknowledge that this is a big city. A very big city. Estimates are currently about 20 million though it may be more. And sure, very big cities have a certain rudeness built in, a rudeness that is usually a response to a loss of personal space and a need to carve out that space.

However, in numerous situations, particularly those involving public transportation, I have yet to encounter a place more rude. Every day, as I board and exit the ferry, I am amazed by the rude behavior. People push to get on the metal ramp and steps that lead to the ferry. I don't understand it as the ferry waits. We will all get on. If the guys on the ferry see you running towards the boat, yes, they will acknowledge you and they will not pull the ramp away before you board. This is no NYC bus scenario. However, the pushing is as inevitable as it is unnecessary. When I am just standing there, someone will invariably push in front of me before the boat arrives. This is the kind of behavior that would never stand at an indie rock concert. So, we push on and then the boat ride is lovely - the boats are new, clean and the seats are comfortable. We pass by some wonderful sites on the Bosphorus: the remains of Mehmet the Conqueror's forts (Rumeli Hisari and Anadolu Hisari) that enabled him to conquer Constantinople, the opulent Dolmabahce Palace, beautiful yalis, etc. I love Istanbul at these times and already know how hard it will be for me to leave. Then, when the boat docks, the same rudeness ensues, and I don't care for this place at all. We will all be standing in the aisles, waiting for the boat to dock, and people will push out of their rows. There is no room for the people pushing out, so it is really weird. I want to say, "you know, the laws of physics dictate that we cannot both occupy this same space, so you might want to wait 'til I move up, say, three inches or so." Amazing. People will then push to get off the ramp though, of course, we will all be able to get off just fine. They then return to their cultured ways. I find it all so strange and, yes, another instance of the duality of this place.

Last night I had a similar experience on the bus. I had gone to a gallery opening in Nisantasi, a high-end neighborhood that probably somewhat resembles New York. The new Italian (Veronica the anthropologist) from class had invited me to the opening. The show was good. It was the work of an Italian photographer from Florence who explored ideas of collective memory through familiar icons, mostly classical ruins and sculptures. He coated the photographs with wax so that they collected dust, dirt, etc. He had brought his entourage from Florence and it felt familiar, like many openings in NYC. Everyone was really cool. The gallery assistants were all young women dressed all in black, of course. A friend of the photographer's, a Turkish movie star, came to the opening - his English was excellent. It is always interesting to meet a "famous" person when that means nothing to you. He was fairly attractive, very tall, though he was sporting a rather obvious cold sore.

Anyway, because I was still in the Beyoglu (the "New City"), I took the bus home. When it arrived, there were two young college-aged women who got on ahead of me. They were fumbling for change and the bus doors actually closed on me because they were in the way. Not a good feeling, that, to have dirty bus doors actually close on you. And no, these girls did not move out of the way to let me in, and their expressions never changed. I had to squeeze past them. They neither apologized and actually never moved from their poor choice of standing spots. As other people got onto the bus at the next few stops, they also ran into trouble getting past these two girls. However, no one seemed miffed at all. At home, many comments would have been made, but here, nothing. So, pondering this rudeness phenomenon, I realized that in order to be rude, you must realize that you are being so. At least there need to be larger social parameters that you are pushing against or even breaking. Here, it appears that there may be no such parameters or a concept of unacceptable public transportation behavior. I have yet to see someone be upset by behavior that is rude in my book. Perhaps the concept of rude doesn't really exist. Hm. Not sure. This is one place I think it might be impossible to not adhere to your own native concepts of politeness; they are just so ingrained. As I realize the futillty of being bothered by something that is not going to change any time soon, I will try to not mind being pushed around unnecessarily. We shall see.