Traffic: Turkey, India.

Taxi. Turkish. Turkish Taxi. Not for the faint of heart. Actually, I think that those cabs should have one of warnings that really crazy rides at amuzement parks carry: "Do not use this ride if you are under three feet tall, pregnant, have back problems, high blood pressure, any types of phobias, any nervous condition, or are in danger of having a stroke." Actually, it might include some further governent warnings such as those commonly found on tobacco products sold by Phillip Morris.

Come to think of it, certain religious bodies might also encourage the placement of some certain warnings on those cabbies as well. They might include a warning against travelling in them if you have any moral compunctions about a complete disregard for all sorts of civil authority and a basic, if not complete disregard for the sanctity of pedestrian life.

We've all seen law enforcement vehicles responding to some sort of emergency with their lights and sirens blazing. They have these tools for the general purpose of allowing them to move through traffic faster than any other type of vehicle. It also gives them the ability to properly disregard normal traffic control devices. It would seem that Turkish Taxis have been endowed with both of these privileges. However, they have not been given the lights nor the sirens. Their horns do work though.

Through experiencing Turkish taxis from both the pedestrian and passenger vantage point, I learned something. Turkey is not Rome. Sure, you can cross the street whereever you wish. The catch is, the traffic doesn't stop. Cars, taxis in particular, might give you a mild swerve for sporting purposes but they sure aren't going to stop.

That horn - just one small beep is all that is given. If you are walking, and you hear that beep behind you, best jump to the side of the road because something is rolling up on you fast. On a city street, where the speed limit was 30kmph and the street was actually shared with a trolley one taxi took us to our destination, after very mild hints that there was a hurry involved, at speeds hitting up to 120kmph.

In fact, in heavy traffic, we saw a police vehicle, using all of its special equipment to cut a swath through traffic get straight up passed at double speed by a taxi who had to play chicken with oncoming busses to do it. The only reason we could find for that was that the cabby had a fare. Not to mention the time that in a mini bus we ran a redlight at a 100kmph. Oh, wait, the driver did blow his horn as he went through. (I guess in Turkey that makes it all better.)

So, the bottom line is this: First, I don't think deaf people can survive as pedestrians in Istanbul - they should always be on the passenger side of things. Second, horns - not brakes - seem to be the most important safety feature of almost any vehicle. Third, and last, please make sure you're right with God before you walk or ride in that wonderful city where East meets West. Theologically it's a good idea anyway. Best take care of it now.

Don't worry . . .coming soon: Traffic and cabby report on Cairo, Egypt.

Language Barriers and the laws of unintended consequences

I have truly learned that there is more to a conversation than the conversation itself. There are many things happening (And that is true even when both people are actually paying attention to the conversation and not wandering through it on auto pilot.)

Even when speaking the same language, there is what I said, what I meant to say, what I should have said to convey what I meant, what the other person thought I said, what they thought I meant, what they said, what. . . et al. You get the point. This little minor part of communication is very pronounced when crossing large language barriers. I mean languages that don't have much in common. Sort of like Turkish and English, for instance.

Turkish Delight. Good stuff. (Just read the Chronicles of Narnia.) We bought some in Istanbul. We ate some. We were going to buy more. So, walking along, we attempted the purchase along the side of the road. (That is where most purchases occur there.) The long and short of the story is that all three of us turned out to be trying to purchase Turkish Delight from a stand that pretty much only sold contraceptives. . . .(They should pass legislation prohibiting all the colorful packaging. Its confusing to the language impaired.)

Actually, English and Nepalese don't mix well either. Last night, while Mark steadfastly did his best to find all the American TV and news stations he could in his room, Jeremy and I ventured to the lobby of our temporary abode in search of sustenance. Basically, it seemed that what we wanted could not be had. Then we agreed to just have whatever was on hand but I asked if I could just look at there food and drink and pick out what I wanted. This was agreed upon, or so I thought.

The man took us outside, into the pouring rain, and about a half mile through rising run off water. We ended up at a store. It was closed. So was the second one. I was thinking to myself that it was awefully funny that they would trek a half mile in the rain to get food. Wouldn't they have some at the hotel? (Hostel, whatever.)

In the end, it turned out that the man thought we weren't happy with his described selection and had taken it upon himself to try to find us a better selection at about 11:30 at night, even if that did mean running arround for a mile in the rain. He even refused a tip for his trouble saying it was his duty to try to help us. Jeremy and I upon conference, chose our food from his selection and forced a 100 rupee tip into his hand for his troubles. He was infinitely pleased and thankful. All said, the food drink and tip cost us one rainy mile of trekking and about $6 US.

Then there was the guy in Egypt to made a comment that he would find an Egyptian girl for me. . .that went about as far as my subsequent comment that it would only work if he could promise me that her father wouldn't try to shoot me with an AK when he found out I voted for Bush. No real language barrier there.. . . . we ended up that day with an armed police escort "for our safety". But hey - we still swam where the Red Sea meets the Suez Canal.

I would just hate to see what happens when the law of language barriers and unintended consequenses crosses a Turkish Taxi ride. . . . .

SNO