However, my husband and I decided to move to a complex outside of the city a few years ago. While living there carried the advantage of living in a quieter, cheaper, greener neighborhood, it carried the distinct disadvantage of lacking efficient public transportation to the city. Reluctantly, I learned how to drive in İstanbul. Can has a car, and we both worked out a system to share the car. He also promised (and kept it) to take me to my various appointments and engagements whenever possible. However, when he wasn’t free, I needed to learn how to drive there on my own. I have a current US driver’s license, and we at first were worried about how legal it was for me to drive without a correct permit. Currently Turkish law states that foreigners can legally drive on their license for the first six months of residency in Turkey. My current residency permit had just been issued, so technically I had six months to figure out the paperwork of getting a Turkish driver’s license or equivalent. I do have many friends who have driven here for years on their US driver’s licenses with no problems, but I was hesitant to take that risk.
The paperwork was the least of my worries as I slowly ventured onto the road for trips to the nearby supermarket. I slowly broadened my horizons to the shopping mall, then the highway, until finally all of İstanbul felt like it was at my feet. I wasn’t scared of a run-in with the police; I was more scared of the “traffic monsters” on the road. For me, driving in İstanbul has reminded me of a computer game. Anything can happen from any direction, and two eyes are not enough to protect yourself from all the dangers on the road. In the two years since I started driving, I have dodged cars going the wrong way on the highway, a random sheep on the expressway and a vehicle that looked like a car from the Flintstones on the Bosporus Bridge. By far the most terrifying are the drivers who think they own the road and race dangerously through traffic. cutting off everyone in their path.
One day in the İstanbul neighborhood of Mecidiyeköy I started to feel myself going crazy. Traffic had barely moved in almost 45 minutes. Despite this, an idiot next to me kept trying to cut me off. I felt my blood boil and inched forward to block his path. He kept going, and so did I, until our mirrors collided. While mine slid safely back towards the window, his was left dangling. I felt a sense of panic rising in my throat and kept looking forward pretending like nothing had happened. Why oh why did I let myself get into this situation? If I was going to do something this stupid, I should have made sure that there was at least an open road to escape down. What if this guy got out of the car and tried to kill me? Thankfully he didn’t, but we sat awkwardly next to each other in traffic for the next half an hour.
After this incident, I made a decided effort to get my paperwork in order. I couldn’t afford any problems with driving illegally on my US driver’s license. At first we looked at getting my Turkish driver’s license, but I was deterred by the course and exams being offered in Turkish. Another route was to merely have my license notarized and translated, and then pay a certain fee. This also requires some special forms from my embassy. A friend of mine who went this route waited quite a long time for everything to be finalized and paid a hefty sum. I opted to get an international driver’s license while I was back in the US for a visit instead, through my local AAA office. Turkey recognizes this type of license, and for me it was a much cheaper and more efficient option. Since I am married and living here long term, I do eventually want to get an official Turkish driver’s license, but after I tackle dual citizenship and am not reliant on my residence permit.
Although I am now confident driving in İstanbul and have my paperwork in order, I am still very weak in the parking department. My husband Can jokes that he has never seen a woman be able to park a car properly, and I know that he is not alone in this view. I wish I could be the one to prove him wrong, but alas, it’s not to be. I have no problem parking straight in shopping malls, but everything else is another story. In my hometown in Michigan, we rarely needed to parallel park. I think the last time I had to parallel