[Learning to live in Antalya] Getting around

On foot

I try to keep fit by walking where possible, and as I am lucky enough to live within a couple of kilometers of the crèche where I work, I initially decided to walk to work. All went well strolling through the backstreets from my house until I had to cross the main road, which takes traffic from the meydan toward the sea. This is a six-lane highway with traffic lights at the junction where I need to cross. I waited for the green man to light up, and as in the UK this means it is safe to cross, I foolishly stepped on to the road. Brakes screeched, horns blared and drivers gesticulated rudely as they sped around me, with not one of them stopping. Unlike the UK, the green man does not indicate a safe time to cross -- it is merely a suggested time -- but one which is largely ignored by drivers. This system, which originated in Germany and where it no doubt works a treat, is clearly not designed for the drivers of Antalya. Despite the hostility of the drivers, I continue to make a rather foolhardy protest by sauntering  across the road in the face of the oncoming traffic when the green man is lit. This is a battle that I am destined never to win.

By bicycle

The scenery on my walk to school was lacking in any great interest, so I soon opted to buy a cheap bike from the local shop. This sped up the journey, too, but as I was reluctant to brave the traffic by cycling on the main roads, I stuck mainly to the pavements. On my first trip, I spotted two traffic police, sitting in their car by the aforementioned traffic lights. Naively thinking that they might pull me over for riding on the pavement, I dismounted and pushed the bike past them. Since then, I don’t bother. Having observed police motorbikes careering along pavements, cutting their way through pedestrians, I feel that my sedate speed poses no serious threat to anyone. In any case, many motorbikes zip up and down the pavement, frequently transporting families of four and a granny to boot without any repercussions.

In the car

Early on in our life in Antalya, we succumbed to the pressures of buying a car -- well more of a truck really -- but one which would be very useful to transport bags of sand and cement for building the house and copious amounts of visitors and their baggage from the airport. And, yes, it has proven useful, and when driving I have learnt to have all my senses on full alert and to expect cars, bikes and people to come at me from all directions. The main problem with the car turned out to come from Turkish bureaucracy. Each year, quite rightly, cars over a certain age need a test. As this involves a large amount of waiting at the testing station, we employed a takipci (a kind of middle man) to do the deed. The first year, the otogaz tank was apparently not up to scratch. “No problem,” said our trusty takipci. “We will fix a good one, have the test done and then put the old one back -- this is much cheaper.” We opted not to risk this but to have a new and larger tank fitted despite the cost. Next year the problem was the “ceki kancası” (tow bar) -- or rather the lack of it! Now our car had clearly never had such a thing but as this had been written on the documents, it couldn’t pass the test unless one was fitted. To this day we have never had cause to use our “ceki kancası” but maybe it will come in useful one day. The truck has proven useful not only to us but also the open back provides a very comfortable place for the local kids to hang out after school!

Taxi transfers

Antalya’s taxi drivers have a clear monopoly on the route from the airport into town, and whenever I arrive back from a trip back to the UK, unless being met, I have no other option than to take a cab. Whilst many of these taxi drivers are at least moderately careful, others are lunatics, and like the majority of other Antalya drivers, it is not “cool” to wear a seatbelt and apparently essential for the driver to talk on a mobile phone while driving as fast as possible, weaving in and out of the traffic and jumping red lights. I have learned to shut my eyes and hold my breath during the 15 minutes or so it takes to get me home. On my last trip, not only was the driver doing all of the above, he proudly switched on a small TV screen, neatly positioned above his rear view mirror, tuned in to his favorite soap and watched it throughout the journey.

By bus or dolmuş

I try to avoid traveling by bus because many times while walking or cycling I have narrowly missed being mowed down by one of the many blue buses that hurtle around the streets of Antalya. It is a mystery why they feel the need to go quite so fast. Similarly, the recently introduced mini dolmuş buses seem to crawl along the inside lane if I am driving behind them and then spring into top gear when I attempt to overtake them.

Trams

The safest and most reliable form of transport in Antalya has to be the dinky tram that runs along Atatürk Caddesi all the way to the cliff top above Konyaalti beach. I have no complaints about this. It is mercilessly punctual (twice an hour) and passengers are able to enjoy the fantastic view over the bay toward the mountains. I use it often to go to the museum, beach and concerts at the Antalya Culture Center (AKM) or to one of the many cliff-top restaurants. It also makes the nearest thing my adopted city has to a cycle lane. Antalya now has a new tramway, built at phenomenal cost and so much aggravation it apparently lost our former mayor his job. Following months of testing, the sandbags have been removed from the carriages, and it is now in operation. I just need to find a good reason to try it out.

My stepfather is Polish, and in his homeland, there is a custom which invites everyone who is about to undertake a long journey to sit down together and pause for a minute’s reflection to consider whether his or her journey is strictly necessary and to wish for a safe arrival. After my experiences here, I feel that this rather quaint custom should by made law for every journey.