Remembering Istanbul

Facebook pics.

The terrorist attack on Istanbul's Ataturk airport two days ago reminded me of my visit to Istanbul in the spring of 2008. I was tagging along with my sister Marilyn. a participant in the annual conference of the American Association of Child and Adolescent Psychiatrists. The destination sounded somewhat exotic and exciting, yet "western" enough for me to feel comfortable as a woman in a predominantly Muslim country. I've always liked being among people who are different from me so I thought me pre-trip literature and cursory study of my Turkish language book would be sufficient preparation.

Hilton Bosphorus

Marilyn and I connected easily in Amsterdam and made our way to the departure gate for an uneventful, if crowded, flight to Istanbul. We arrived in that ancient city in the rain, and our first challenge was obtaining a colorful tourist visa at a crowded counter in the airport. We took a cab to the upscale Hilton and enjoyed the ride, charmed by the sight of people fishing off the bridge as we drove by.

Marilyn at her conference

The hotel was lovely and our room gave us a magnificent view of the Bosphorus, where military, commercial and private watercraft moved up and down the river day and night. We started every day with a delicious breakfast of fruit, grains and various meats and loved a morning swim at the hotel's unusual pool. On our first evening, we fought fatigue and ventured a few blocks from the hotel for dinner. Marilyn was determined to eat Turkish delicacies like pork brain, while I stuck with more familiar lamb kabobs and rice or orzo. We ate out most evenings, often at little sidewalk restaurants. Bread and pastries were always excellent.

The language proved to be a bigger barrier than I had anticipated. In the past, I had always been able to communicate wherever I travelled, but Romance languages are easy for someone who speaks one or two, as I do. Turkish is totally different, and the only word I learned was "sutlac", delicious rice pudding that I learned to recognize on the menu, whether or not pictures were provided.

I was a little alarmed by the frosty reception we encountered from many younger service staff, and a little scared the few times we were out after dusk, when men seemed to leer at us, two respectable middle-aged women alone in a strange city. One of our tour guides was in his twenties, taciturn and surly. He spoke excellent English but spent much of his time on his cell phone. His conversations sounded ugly and menacing, especially to someone with as much imagination as I have. When one of us commented on Mustafa Ataturk, the founder of the Turkish Republic, he sneered and seemed to suggest that the best days of the Republic were ahead. In 2008, Islamist sympathies were beginning to become evident, even to a westerner with only a cursory knowledge of a Turkish timeline.

On May 1, I wasn't worried about what I thought would be May Day celebrations. That day I was accompanying Marilyn to the day's meetings, held about a mile from the Hilton. As we walked toward the conference venue, we noticed a rapid gathering of mostly young people walking in our direction. The crowd became very dense, and we walked arm in arm as riot police arrived on the scene, causing anger among protesters. Young men dug bricks out of the street and used them as weapons. The air was filled with the smell and sting of tear gas. The beautiful May morning was full of noise and chaos, and a young student told Marilyn and me to get to safety. "You are not safe", he said. There were many videos published that day; this is one of them.

Bricks were used as weapons

At the time, I thought that the police were exhibiting and unnecessarily violent response to a peaceful protest. Now, I still think the response was excessive, but I'm less sure of the protesters' innocence. Marilyn and I managed to get to the conference and I hastily emailed our families to let them know we were all right. I learned later that there had been little media coverage of the May Day events. In fact, that very morning, Matt Lauer was broadcasting from a ship on the Bosphorus, and the beauty of the city was quite breathtaking.

Lots of beautiful items for sale on the street

That night we looked at the possibility of leaving the city early but we decided to remain and enjoy the rest of our visit. We loved Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, the Topkapi Palace and the Istanbul cisterns. A charming artist and dealer of rugs and antiquities showed us the city from beautiful rooftop patio. Good experiences outnumbered the bad, compensating for the May Day scare and an afternoon when we got hopelessly separated from our tour grop in the Grand Bazaar.

Nevertheless, we were delighted to go home the following week. Our flight to Amsterdam was early so we cabbed to the airport way before dawn. We were at the gate when we learned that our flight had been canceled, and airport personnel made us gather our bags and go back to the terminal, where we had to get ourselves rerouted. The lines were endless and it took forever to get new boarding passes. I regretted having a heavy bag to lug around.

I got a flight to London, then went on to Chicago and eventually MSP. I literally kissed the ground when I finally landed, about 30 hours after the beginning of my journey home. Marilyn spent a sleepless night in Munich before flying home to Toronto the next day.

This week's pictures of the Istanbul airport were shockingly familiar. I remembered the hours we spent there and felt transported back to the awful confusion we experienced, still far from the horror of the terrorist attacks. I was immediately ashamed for complaining about the Istanbul experience all these years.