For anyone who has never driven in another country, I just have to say, you don’t know what you’re missing. The Autobahn was fun if a little intimidating in Germany. Driving on the left is fun but a little tense at times in England. But nothing is like driving in Adana, Turkey. I almost qualified it, but I can just leave it at that.
So there I was driving along being cool keeping an eye on everyone else as we tooled down a two lane road with pedestrians walking down where a center line is supposed to be, cars 4 abreast, and all in a huge hurry (except the pedestrians who amble and sometimes stop to kiss their friends, chat and drink some tea.) Suddenly through the smoky haze and the dimming light as the afternoon began to turn to dusk, I saw a wooden barrier across the road with an arrow pointing left and one pointing right. The road was blocked for construction, so having turned left on a previous trip, I knew to turn right. I jumped in behind a dolmus (minibus-taxi) and the four lanes converged into one narrow lane complete with pedestrians who think they are bigger and stronger than cars, and headed for the detour around the construction. About 100 meters into the detour, all traffic came to a halt. Cars were parked in the middle of the road about four cars deep and there was no way anybody was going anywhere. I gasped for air as I felt the press of cars coming in behind me. I was fairly sure I would be there for days, but my traveling companion, Kimberly, brave little toaster, suggested that I just back up into the onslaught. I figured if we were going to survive I had no option, so I put the car in reverse and wound my way back to a wide spot, did a twelve point turnaround and busted out of there barely able to breathe from the claustrophobia. Now Kimberly and I weren’t afraid, but we were ready to go home and not keen on spending the night in an impromptu parking lot while others around us abandoned their cars and commenced to partying.
So I found an alternate path and tried to pay attention to Carol, my Garmin, but she didn’t seem to have any better idea than I did about how to get out of downtown old Adana and kept saying “turn left, you idiot!...TURN LEFT…re-calcu-recalculating” so I tuned her out. Kimberly was much more encouraging saying things like “I think we are headed in the right direction” or “I feel good about this.” As we wound around buses and fruit carts and bicyclists and motor-scooters with husband, wife, two kids, three sacks of groceries and a 5 liter water-bottle on board, I began to see the congested traffic thin out a little to like three across in a one way road and the dust start to settle. By the way, a one way road in Turkey means basically that traffic can only go one way at a time. The cars at one end wait until they get enough strength and numbers and then charge into the road forcing the cars that were coming to the other way to stop and make room. And so it goes until the traffic is ready to go the other direction. I knew we were almost home, just ten more minutes and I had needed to use the WC for almost an hour. As we rounded a corner I saw the mosque and told Kimberly we were almost there, and suddenly, WHAM! A dolmus hit the rear passenger side fender causing a significant dent and scrape along the rear side of the car. I immediately came to a stop in the crowded street and got out to check the damage and perhaps talk with the driver of the dolmus who sped away, shouting “TAMAM” which means “IT’S OKAY!” I shouted “YOK, it’s not tamam!” while pointing to the damaged fender and gesturing wildly. Perhaps he sped away because he thought I might be crazy. At any rate, I was left there with a small crowd of Turks shaking their heads and looking at me like, “Man this sucks for you, because we don’t speak English and you don’t speak Turkish!” I called Ismail, the Hertz guy next, who is awesome and one of the most generous people I have met. He had said with his beautiful accent and no understanding of idiom or context, “As I have told you many times, Mr. Phillips, if you have an accident, to call me first, not the police or anyone else. Don’t you understand?” This was not said because I am so dense that he had to repeat himself to get it through my thick skull. He said it maybe twice to make sure I got the point. If an American said that to me I would assume he was trying to make me feel stupid. This was definitely not the case, but while I was standing on the street with the banged up butt of my car sticking out in traffic interrupting the “flow” for lack of a better word, being stared at like a circus freak waiting for the police, listening to Ismail telling me “I have been telling you, Mr. Phillips to not move the car and I will be there in a few minutes, maybe twenty”, I admit I felt kind of stupid.
The Police arrived within about 10 minutes and spoke even less English than I speak Turkish, so I handed them my papers, registration, Florida Driver’s License and quickly informed them “Turkce bilmiyorum” (I don’t speak Turkish). I must have mispronounced something because they then asked me if I speak Turkish and again I told them “Turkce bilmiyorum”. Then they said something else to me and I told them “Anlamyorum” (I don’t understand you). That must have worked because they started to laugh and patted me on the back saying “Tamam.” I had to call Ismail a couple of times to have him interpret while the police report was being completed and my breathalyzer was being administered but I remembered that as a guest in their country I had to be very civil. So I used almost every Turkce word I knew and told them all sorts of interesting things like My name is Garry, I like Turkey, Turkey is very nice, I am American (I thought I heard them say in plain English “No shit.”) At least I hope that’s what I told them. They were very good natured and tried a few English words, but our conversation usually sounded like, “My name is Garry, My name is Fahti, I like Turkey, Do you like Turkey, I am American, No shit, Where are you from, My name is Garry,” and so on. They taught me to say “Ben Tarsus idiorum” which I think means “I go to Tarsus today.” Again I hope that’s what it means because they had me say it a few times and laughed each time. I think I generated some good will because at the end of our interaction, after they told me that I had to come back downtown tomorrow to pick up my copy of the police report, we all slobbered, kissed, hugged and shook hands and went our merry ways.
So then I followed Ismail In the dark, on a hair raising trek back through all the traffic, unlit one way roads, the same pedestrians but all now dressed in black (undetectable but for the glow of their cigarettes), fruit carts, etc to the Hertz office where we decided not to change out the car for a less damaged one. I wanted by that time to say, “What the hell, Ismail? This one looked like a demolition derby car when we picked it up, do you really think another dent or scratch will show?!” But I restrained myself. He must have detected that I was going to say something smug, because, and I think it was deliberate, he gave us alternate directions to get back to the base to avoid the traffic, construction etc. I and Kimberly listened carefully, because we were ready to call it a night, and even asked him to repeat it and then we regurgitated it back for his approval, and he said we were exactly right. We did exactly as told and drove right down a dark pot-holed one way road with very few people on it and those who were out, stared at us through Hashish clouded eyes. That road dead ended and we had to turn right down an even darker road - Ismail had not mentioned a dead end or a right turn. I had to use the brights because it was so dark and like I said before, everybody was dressed in black. We drove very slowly down a road that suddenly turned across a bridge. We had turned on the GPS again and Carol was saying turn right, Kimberly was saying turn right and I was shouting, WHERE? Then suddenly there it was, a right turn over a rickety bridge that crossed a black abyss then down a one lane, two way road with the bottomless black chasm on one side and people and cars, and trucks on the other coming the other direction, some with only one headlight so I couldn’t see where the body of the vehicle was until it was right on me. Then the road ended and we had the same shouting match in the car, “Turn right!” “Where?!” another bridge, across a sudden major highway that I had been on two hours earlier in that same spot (actually it as the third time today that I passed that same spot), down an alley into a muddy field where cars were driving all directions and back onto a road that had huge potholes and asphalt jutting up out of the road here and there, and more people all dressed in black, and Carol saying “turn right, turn right, turn left, re-calc-re-calculating”. All of a sudden there it was like a sign from the heavens: the mosque was again before us but this time we were right on top of it in all it’s glowing nighttime splendor. I then saw the Hilton Hotel on the other side of the river and I exclaimed to Kimberly, “I know where we are” and again for effect, “I KNOW WHERE WE ARE!” Almost weeping I persevered down that four lane, divided highway, with it’s beautiful lines dividing the lanes, and only three cars across my side of the highway. All the way back to base for almost 10 km I thanked God for protecting us, keeping us safe and not letting me get thrown in Turkish Prison.
I have my Turkish phrasebook but I just hope that when I go downtown to the Traffic Control Office to get my Traffic Control report tomorrow, inshallah, somebody there can speak English.
Tamam, Now I feel better.
I am kind of at a loss for appropriate words for my final Japan blog entry. It was an awesome experience for 8 weeks. I got to indulge the ful
l scope of what Japan has to offer. Of course I couldn’t hit all the must see zones, but I think I did pretty well. As I looked through my tourist book, I guess the biggest thing that is not in the guide books is the 5th biggest earthquake in history! I thought it was well advised there that they encourage people to put together an “Oh Shit Kit” in case of a disaster. I put one together and fortunately was not in a position to need it when the big one rolled in. I spent my last couple of weeks in and around Tokyo and a day at Enoshima, down on the coast. I spent a day wit
h my mom who came to visit with friends, the Anzai family, from 45 years ago. We got to hang out with the fa
mily, including all of their “kids” who are around my age. I thought it might be hard to connect or find things to talk about, but it came as naturally as it did all those years ago. It was very generous of them to take time off from work responsibilities in the middle of the greatest crisis Japan has had in a long time, to visit me. I won’t go on about that. I have posted here a few hilarious signs that I had to photograph ( I never thought of 
McDonald’s as a dining 
bar). What a country to put a liquor shop in a vending machine. As you can tell, I love Udon, especially when they throw in tempura veggies and serve a bottle of sake. This is also a picture of the Anzai Family, plus me and mom (we are the white ones). Also a picture of Mt. Fugi from Tokyo with the sun setting 
behind it – the picture is nowhere near as breath-taking as actually 
being there. So I finished Japan and I will miss it, in many ways. Now home for while with probably nothing interesting to blog about. At least I hope so. Between the blizzards, volcanoes, traffic accidents, tea with HRM the Queen, earthquake and tsunami, I need a break.
