Sankar and I had no choice but to put ourselves totally into the hands of others, helpful folks like his driver, Umit, and his secretary, Didem. We resigned ourselves to not knowing and not knowing and not knowing for many days and months. Trying to drive up the twisting hill from the Sea Road to our house, we took a wrong turn and ended up on a dead end street behind a garbage truck that was trying to back up. Despite being dropped off four steps from a mall entrance, I walked smack into a plate glass window. Even though Sankar’s secretary downloaded appliance manuals for me, I managed to wash our clothes for two full years using only the rinse cycle.
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| The line behind me got longer and longer as I tried to figure out how to buy a subway token. |
Finally, the not knowing began to coalesce into something approximating comprehension. The routes up and down the hills to the Old City began to fix themselves into our minds. I learned how to ask for a plain pogaci at the bakery and how to purchase and load an Istanbul Kart for trips on trams, boats and the metro. We figured out how to follow Turkish cash machine instructions. After that came a great deal of deserved pride (“Yes! We can do this!”), but also a truckload of humility about the vast amount we still did not know.
I can’t recall this issue bothering me at all when I lived in Yemen. In my mid-twenties, I rarely chided myself for getting lost, and I didn’t feel particularly embarrassed when it took me six months to realize I should fold my legs under me when sitting on the floor. Perhaps pride is age-related, perhaps it grows slowly, like the plane trees that shade the palaces lining the Sea Road. All I know is that at age 57, I’m fiercely proud of my competence, and I’m hanging onto it as hard as I can.
Recently I have been puzzled by friends who could travel here inexpensively but choose not to visit, and visitors who have seemed unhappy asking us how to navigate the city. It has helped to think back on my days and months of stupidity. Just as we put ourselves in other hands during those first weeks and months, our guests must also hand us a measure of authority. They have to let us take control, to let us be “wise,” and for some folks that can be challenging.
For me, the past two and a half years in Istanbul have been like falling deep into one of my favorite childhood storybooks. Sure, I didn’t know where I was when I woke up, and the Disney-like animals chortled in amusement. But once I picked myself up and started down the path–and let others take care of me–I have had a most exhilarating experience.
As I tried to sleep the other night, I pondered the difficulty of understanding others. I was beginning to realize that my experiences here in Asia Minor can provide insights about friends on the opposite side of the globe, but I didn’t quite have the answers I wanted. Restless, I decided to repeat the mantra, “knowledge of humanity,” “knowledge of humanity.” Isn’t that what we all really seek, above and beyond knowing how to navigate any one city or part of the world? After awhile the mantra began to do its work, and soon I was fast asleep.
“Knowledge of humanity” is awesome! What a machine…I’d just slap buttons and yell at it 🙂
Keep exploring! You never know what you might find around the corner in Istanbul! 😉
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