Istanbul - The "Other" Delight

 

By: Claudia Anderson

The prospect of a holiday is always an exciting one. It is an opportunity to experience a new land and culture, and a break from the hustle and bustle of day-to-day life. When I consider a holiday destination, I also take into account my race and gender.

Born and raised in London, I have been anaesthetized by various religions, languages and ethnic groups living side by side. The capital has enabled me to explore the concept of tolerance. But, whenever I travel, I am reminded not so much of who I am, but how I am perceived by others. My recent trip to Turkey highlighted this conundrum.

Unlike previous holidays, I didn’t have sufficient time to research places of interest in Istanbul before arrival. My thoughts were that Turkey is a European country, but not in the EU, and the majority of people practised Islam. My travel companion (a female Bengali Muslim) and I first experienced a taste of this different culture even before boarding our flight at Heathrow.

When we checked in, our individual tickets were booked in the name of Miss and not Mrs. The Turkish Airlines however interpreted that we were children. After all, why would two unmarried females be travelling together? This led to a problem with seat allocation, but was fortunately and quickly resolved by staff. This added to our pre-holiday anxiety.

Although our flight was delayed, the in-flight dinner more than made up for this disappointment, as it gave us a flavour of the Turkish cuisine to come. When we arrived and checked in a hotel in the Sultanahamet district, a predominantly Muslim area, our street map indicated a number of mosques within easy walking distance.

Each day, it was unbearably hot (32’C degrees) for sight seeing. Visiting the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, Grand Bazaar, Spice Bazaar and the Topkapi Palace was a wonderful experience, as the breeze from the Black Sea cooled the air. Like the locals, we also ate roasted corn and watermelon from the street vendors, to keep our energy levels up, and drank no less than two litres of water a day for hydration.

In Istanbul, we were asked many times where we came from. At first, we responded politely and said "London." But, that was as good as giving them a ticket to your purse, as they perceived us as affluent.

So by day three, I said I was Jamaican. On one occasion, when I told this to a bazaar seller, he immediately touched his head and indicated with his broken English: “Oh, Jamaican is with dreadlocks and Gullit too!”

But I replied to his surprise and said the former Holland international footballer was pronounced Hullit and was Dutch. In actual fact, this footballer shed his dreads years ago. I suppose thanks to Bob Marley who traveled into the minds and souls of people everywhere - far deeper than myself or fellow country black men and women could ever reach.

So my presence was confusing for many. Even the tourists from East European countries like Bulgaria, Romania and Georgia and others from the Middle East, I could only gather that they had not seen a black person before.

From my attire it was clear that I was not a devout and practising Muslim, nor was I one of the African street sellers, who sat next to the Turkish sellers, all desperately trying to sell their wares; from the fake designer bags to Nike socks, Armani sunglasses to Tommy Hilfiger perfume and Pashmina scarves.

I had to ask myself what did they see when they looked at me. I wore modern clothes, ate well and though I was not adorned with gold, I still carried an aura of affluence. I found myself searching every day for the sight of another black person, as the novelty of hearing the call to prayer each day began to wear thin. I began to desire to see a church or a synagogue to identify difference but, due to our short visit, we did not have time.

It was at this point I began to think of the Hegelian philosophical interpretation of “the other” in regards to myself and how I was perceived. But also I considered how the Turkish people felt in Germany where they were the “other.”

In previous years, while visiting Germany, I noticed the difficulties that Turkish people had in integrating themselves (through choice or cultural alienation) into European culture. Especially in education and finding and sustaining employment, despite years of being there, they are considered different and still fail to fit in.

They have retained their national identity, socially and economically, by maintaining boundaries and perpetuating a doctrine of separatism and social exclusion. Perhaps I was viewed as they had, as an inferior other within the German psyche. However, I was not condemned but exploited as I represented a black woman, a picture of femininity but husbandless, childless and without a code of religion determining my way of being.

My companion and I were money magnets to the traders. I stood out for my blackness that elevated me to celebrity status; when on several occasions, people asked to take photos with me. And she stood out for her complexion that identified her as being of either Pakistani or Indian origin and potentially a Muslim, but wearing westernized clothes. The fact that she was neither only added to our joint perceived misconception.

Some women also smiled at us and gazed in wonder – perhaps jealous of our freedom and individuality. On the other hand, young men stared and made vulgar lewd comments that my companion described them as pesky. Still, the older men looked at us with adoration and admiration and the children were fascinated and bewildered.

Overall, I was amazed by the volume of people on the streets, and the constant family presence, which like the heat, at times I found stifling. We asked ourselves what the education system was like, as it seemed there were children everywhere. Perhaps the most fortunate ones worked in the family business such as in a kiosk, restaurant or fast food kebap (not kebab) eateries.

It also became clear that in Istanbul, the local bazaar sellers were keen to relieve us of the lira and would literally beg for it. If you did not play the haggle game, they could become quite rude and unpleasant, which was all too reminiscent of my experiences in Marrakesh.

By day three, we were tired of the narrow streets, the heat and avoiding being run over by the trams. So we booked for a boat ride to the island of Buyukada, which would give us a refreshing chance to dip our feet into the cool Marmara Sea and eat some fresh fish. For this, we had to venture on our first tram ride that was crowded but incredibly cheap. We boarded at Beyazit towards Kabatas, and from there hit the coast for a ferry boat to the island. The hour long journey gave us ample picturesque shots of Istanbul and a chance to relax with a glass of apple tea.

On arrival my friend (a keen sun worshipper) wanted to find a spot among the hundreds of other tourists to sunbathe. To our dismay, however, the only beach on the island was an exclusive private members club. This did not spoil our enjoyment, as we sat by the rocks and cooled our feet in the cool blue sea, which proved a tonic to my weary feet.

Afterward, we ate calamari and strolled around the island where cars were not permitted. The only forms of transport were horse or cart. I also bought Turkish wine to take back home. Before we said our farewells, a family approached us and to our surprise, they wanted a photo with us, as if we had been a part of their holiday.

If you are considering Istanbul as a weekend break, you would not do it justice, as there is so much to do and see. For me, it wasn’t really a holiday but a life experience for travelling as a black independent woman in a far-flung place. It had its complexities. Still, I want to visit Israel, Egypt, Cyprus and Malta. But perhaps above all, a return visit to Jamaica would help me to reconnect to my Caribbean roots.

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