Waiting for a miracle

The elevator is busy and there is still a stream of people making their way out of the doors -- not dawdling, I might add, but walking at a reasonable pace -- so why is this woman unable to understand the necessity of waiting until the elevator is empty, and until the people like me who are standing in front of her, obviously with the same intention as her of stepping in to the lift, have gotten on? From a safety point of view it makes sense -- this incident was happening in a hospital, with the strong possibility of wheelchairs, pregnant women, small babies and generally frail, sick patients -- but also from a general sense of etiquette. I draw breath and mutter under my breath -- unfortunately in English -- a few choice words, wishing that my Turkish was fluent enough to use in situations like this in order to have the ability to shame such people in public.

I'm reputedly a calm sort of person, but recently I've found my blood boiling like this on numerous occasions. Whenever using an elevator -- and because of my recent and very frequent trips to a large Antalya hospital this has become quite considerable as each visit for treatment generally requires the use of up to 10 elevator trips -- I face the same problem. Now I'm not going to claim that everyone in the UK where I come from is the model of politeness, far from it, but there are unwritten rules concerning the use of elevators, the main one being to stand well back and allow passengers to disembark first, before making our way into the lift in an orderly fashion, with those at the front entering first. This rule also applies when boarding a train or bus. If there really isn't enough space for everyone, those left behind wait for the next run. Simple, easy and stress-free.  So why in Antalya does everyone feel the need to stampede their way into the elevator, showing no consideration for their fellow travelers? Even if they are running a bit late for an appointment, this is no reason to abandon their manners; after all, most of the appointments I've attended have inevitably started at least half an hour after the stated time. So why the desperate hurry to board the elevator?

Cutting in line

The ability to form lines seems to me to be one of the many cultural differences. It's often the same in other situations -- shops, buying tickets, at the market or the ATM -- it's always necessary to be alert to whereabouts in the so-called “line” you really are. For if you hesitate for a moment or look in anyway undecided, someone from behind will take your place. Over the years I have kind of gotten used to these situations, and learned to be more assertive and decisive. Unless the shop or market stall is empty, there is no time to engage in meaningful conversations or to practice my Turkish; best just to get on with my business as fast as possible. In these situations, there is no physical danger to anyone and although back in the UK, it would be considered bad manners to cut in line in this way, here it passes for normal behavior and allows those in a pressing hurry to finish quickly and be on their way. In banks, the post office and even at the Emniyet, there is, of course, the sensible numbered ticket system. However, even in these situations, if while waiting for my number to flash up on the screen, I drift off momentarily and fail to leap to the appropriate counter the second my number is up, I can be sure that the next person in the line will beat me to it. This leaves me with a choice of attempting to bluster indignantly in pidgin Turkish that it should have been my turn or to meekly start again with a new number.

Road rage

For Antalya people on foot, this problem with waiting their turn is difficult, but put any of them behind a wheel and it seems to be impossible. Again, there are probably many examples of impatient driving in the UK, but it is still not an everyday occurrence. Here, each journey I make by bus, bicycle or car will include not one but several examples of appalling driving. Most of these misdemeanors stem from a complete inability to wait. For example, hesitate for a nanosecond when the lights change to green and a cacophony of irritated hooting will start up from behind. Why? What possible difference can it make to wait for a fraction of a second? But hoot they must in order to express their disgruntlement and dissatisfaction with being kept waiting from a very important rendezvous. Try to join a busy main road from a side street and if you are me -- expect a long wait. There is a good chance that no one will even think to give way and allow me to enter the stream of traffic. The only way is to close my eyes and to bravely pull out in front of an unsuspecting vehicle. I still find this challenging and unnerving, but it does seem to work. I needn't go into details about the way cars cut in line by driving up the pavement or crossing over to the “wrong” side of the road in order to unceremoniously pull in a couple of cars further down. It happens all the time in Antalya but I am sure that if anyone displayed such impatience and bad driving in the UK, they would undoubtedly have their license plate recorded and be reported to the correct authorities.

Now all this seems strange to me, given that the overwhelming aspect of Turkish culture is one of extreme politeness. Everyday life in Turkey is riddled with common courtesies. Everybody uses the phrases such as - “geçmiş olsun” (get better soon), “kolay gelsin” (said to someone working -- no easy translation, but something like may it go easily), or even the simple “Nasilsiniz?” (How are you?) -- all the time and they are generally used with the utmost sincerity. People are interested in the well-being of others. Watching even teenagers greet one another with the traditional two kisses or give up their seats on the bus to anyone older than them are all fine examples of the good nature and good manners of Turks in Antalya. Visit a Turkish household and expect to be treated like royalty, showered with cups of tea, food and any comfort imaginable. There is no shortage of politeness to be found even in Antalya -- except when it comes to waiting in line.

I am still waiting for that elusive miracle. I doubt that even if I try to set a good example when driving, by graciously making way for incoming traffic or not blasting my horn impatiently at tardy drivers in front of me, that I will have any effect on the standard of driving. Nor will my persistent grumblings at the behavior of others when using elevators will have any positive impact on the continued pushing and shoving, but I will try not to fall into the same way of thinking and continue to wait my turn politely.