Thursday 28 February 2013

Whistling

Is it me, or can Turkish people just not whistle?

Apparently there is a town called Kuskoy in Turkey where they are expert whistlers. 

But in my office in Istanbul, it sounds more like a car tyre being let...on a windy day.

Wednesday 27 February 2013

Driving in English

A Turkish colleague of mine told me of an English lesson she'd had.

The teacher asked two participants to pretend they'd had a car crash. They were to improvise a typical discussion following a collision, but only using English.

The two "drivers" got up from from their seats and took it in turns to say;
'You did this.'
'No, you did this.'
'No, you did this.'
'No...'

Wednesday 20 February 2013

Expat-blog

The guys at ex-pat blog promised me a colourful suitcase sticker thing if I include a link to their website, so here it is:

expat-blog

So...sticker please :)

Turkey: Amazing at Design

Turkey has been ranked 2nd in the Designboom World Design Rankings.

It's on the internet and it's in a table, so it must be true.

The language of Football

If you speak no Turkish and your taxi driver speaks no English, it is still possible to have a full conversation through the international language of Football.

Conversation structure:
Step 1 - Establish destination.
Step 2 - Taxi driver asks your nationality.
Step 3 - If your answer is English, Spanish, Italian, German or possibly French (and you are male) proceed to step 4. All others must now enter a broken-English conversation about how much you like Istanbul.
Step 4 - Establish each other's football team of choice.
Step 5 - Take turns to name a player from each others' football teams or memorable achievements of said team. *
Step 6 - Smile and nod.
Step 7 - Repeat steps 5 and 6 until destination.

*Points:
Correctly naming a current player from the other conversationalists' team = 1 points.
Naming a player from a different team by mistake = minus 1 point.
Naming a player from your own team that the other conversationalist recognises = 1 point.
Naming a player who has played for both teams = 3 points.
Naming a legendary player from the other conversationalists' team = 2 points.
Naming an ex-player from the other conversationalists' team who the fans now despise = minus 2 points.
Naming a famous achievement of the other conversationalists' team = 2 points.
Informing the other conversationalist that you like their team = 2 points.
Informing the other conversationalist that you hate their teams' arch local rivals = 4 points + potential high-five.

Notes:
 - Finally, years of playing Pro-Evo and Championship Manager have some use.
 - Conversation length depends greatly on your knowledge of Turkish football teams and their players and how famous your own team is. Dagenham and Redbridge fans can expect a very one-sided conversation after step 4.
 - Americans; rules may apply to basketball. I don't know, try it.
 - Scottish, Irish, Northern Irish; taxi driver may assume this means British, and therefore English. Sorry.
 - Women; taxi driver is unlikely to attempt this conversation, but you receive a bonus 2 points to begin with just for attempting to start the conversation.

Tuesday 19 February 2013

The Parting of the Traffic

On my first day in Istanbul I stood on the side of my road in Besiktas for fifteen minutes, frantically looking back and forth like a tennis spectator, searching for my chance.

But the traffic is endless. It's impossible to cross.

And yet there go the locals, darting across the tarmac in their invisible force-fields, oblivious to the danger surrounding them, and finding the slightest of gaps between cars to slip through.

But the skill lies not in maneuverability, pace or agility. You soon learn that they key is absolute confidence, and out you strut, palm held firmly up to part the car chaos like a modern-day Moses of the highway.

Monday 18 February 2013

Pavement's Revenge

The paving slabs on Istiklal Caddesi wait until the wet winter season to take their revenge. For months they are trampled by the masses, but when the heavy rain falls they fight back.

The paving slabs spit at you as you stroll along the street. Spurts of dirty rain water spring out on the ground, seemingly spontaneously, as the unfortunate passer-by chooses the wrong slab to tread on. 

Scooters drive past and shower casual shoppers. A heavy van heaves a wave of grimy subterranean liquid over a unfortunate father, bending down to tie his grandson's laces. A group of drenched young women search for new tights in the late-night shops to save their night from a disastrous early end.

The paving slabs have no mercy. They take no prisoners.

They don't mind that many of their victims are tourists - visiting for the first time - or innocent school-children playing games. They gleefully soak business-men, traders, pensioners and youngsters alike.

You dance and skip across the unpredictable landscape. You look for the potential traps and your invaluable school-day hopscotch skills landing you only on sturdy surfaces, before a noisy street-merchant distracts you and a wayward foot splashes a muddy puddle beyond your purposeful builder's boots and half way up your favourite jeans.

The paving slabs have no mercy.