Today, our legs were a bit sore but we read in the forecast
that this was supposed to be the last day of good weather for a while. At
first, I wanted to take a ferry to Princes Islands. But with a rainy afternoon
forecasted, sore legs, and a travel buddy who’s afraid of water (because she
doesn’t know how to swim), I decided it would be better to minimize our boating
and mountain climbing (on the island, we would then have hiked to a monastery)
for the day. And maybe for the trip. So instead we took a ferry across the
Bosporus to the Asian side of Istanbul: Kadikoy. We found a bustling shopping
district, and Eka was delighted to get many people checked off her gift list.
Being American, my ideas of gifts to bring home are a bit different from hers.
When I think “gifts from Istanbul,” I think fabrics, spices, coffee, tiles, and
lucky eyes…pretty “Turkish” things. Being from Oni (and buying for people from
Oni), Eka sees all of those things as highly impractical. She wants to buy
thermal leggings, sweaters, hair clips, hats, gloves, and tea for her friends,
because these are the kinds of things that one can’t buy in Oni.
At first, Eka wasn’t thrilled about going to Asia. But we
had a lot of fun and I think she’s glad that we went. While we were walking
around, we saw many interesting things. For example, there was a graveyard with
cat-houses in it. Istanbul has many many stray cats. It has cats the way Oni
has dogs, but the Istanbul cats are surprisingly well-treated. People pet them
and feed them, so they’re very fearless and fat. As amusing as I thought it was
to see cat-houses in between gravestones, the Turks thought it was amusing to
see that I was so amused by this.
As we continued walking, it started to rain. We passed a
blue building with a huge picture of Ataturk on it, and I stopped for a
picture…Then the rain picked up so we ducked into a café for shelter. We had
baklava and coffee, and we talked about our impressions of the city.
I’m learning that the Georgians don’t think highly of the
Turks; however, today we experienced a bit of Turkish “anti-Kurd” sentiment
over dinner. We stopped for sandwiches on our way home, and of course the
waiter asked where we were from. Eka said America, and he stared at her for a
moment and then left. He came back with a scarf in his hand and started trying
to explain to Eka that he wanted her to change her scarf. Now Eka was wearing
this very pretty white and grey scarf that she had received as a gift from a
German friend. The man pointed to my scarf and said that it was perfect, and
then he said that her scarf is not welcome in Turkey because it looks Kurdish.
Eka retorted that she likes her scarf, that it was a gift, and that as a
foreigner she doesn’t have any problem with the Kurds. As the man opened his
mouth to protest, I commented to her that—even with all the anti-Turkish
sentiment in Berlin—no German ever told me to stop wearing my bracelet made of
Turkish eyes.
Our first night in Istanbul, we ran into two Georgian men
who live and work in Istanbul. We had tea with them and talked for a while, and
they were very kind. Eka was glad to speak Georgian, and they gave her their
cell phone numbers so that she could call and arrange to meet up sometime
before we leave. As an American, I would have jumped on that opportunity. But
Georgian women (or maybe just Rachulian women) are very shy about such things,
so we probably won’t see them again. That day, Eka had been a little put off by
how many shop-keepers guessed that she was Turkish. Then when we talked to
these men, they commented that the people in Istanbul don’t like people from
the Caucuses. Considering the history that the Turks have with the Armenians (which,
to be fair, I know only a little about), maybe there is some truth in this.
However, Eka has stopped wearing so much make-up so that she doesn’t look as
dark. Now people don’t guess that she’s Turkish anymore; they guess that she’s
Italian almost every time. When people ask where we’re from, she says America.
She told her mom about this over the phone and the explanation she gave
translates to “People here must not know I’m Georgian. They’ll kill a Georgian.
They really don’t like us!” Where on Earth she got that idea, I haven’t a clue.
One shopkeeper told her today that her face doesn’t look American, and I will
admit that I was a little angry about such a comment because it’s total
nonsense. I’m rather uncomfortable, though. How can she walk around disliking a
people for disliking her people when she isn’t taking the chance to know them
or giving them a chance to really know her?!? It makes no sense.
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