On another note...
I managed to scare away a following-me guy! Go me!
I've had a bit more trouble than usual in the last few months with Turkish Guys Being Creepy. About three months ago, I was really scared by a guy following me home. He came up saying "Don't be scared, don't be scared" and then went on to ask me if I had any friends (nearby, I suppose -- all this in Turkish, of course). I ignored him and kept walking, and he asked again. I vehemently responded in the affirmative, to which he said in Turkish, "You're lying." I was about four blocks from my house, and luckily very close to a corner store I often use, which I immediately turned into. I told the guy inside that there was a man and I was scared (I couldn't really provide any other details in my basic Turkish). He looked appropriately concerned, in the typical Turkish-chivalrous way which I've come to realise is the flipside of the same coin as Turkish-boorishness. *sigh* We both went outside and peered around in the darkness but couldn't see the guy, so I lurked in the store for a little while then headed off for the last three blocks home. Within half a block of my house the guy turned up again, talking fast, with his phone out. I was mad and scared, and I said to him "Ev arkadaşlar var" (I have flatmates), "erkek arkadaş var" (I have a boyfriend), "ve TÜRK!" (and he's TURKISH!). The guy didn't go away. "Git!" I yelled (go!). Nothing. "Defol!" (Piss off!), then, at the top of my lungs, "AYIP YA!" (basically, shame on you!) That worked. He spun and disappeared, right at the steps to my apartment. I went in shaking. Luckily Katherine was home.
I was so unnerved by this incident, which occurred at nine-thirty at night, that the next time I had to walk home alone from an evening class I wrapped a scarf around my head.
More recently, I was working late in an internet cafe. I went to pay, and saw a guy who I thought worked there and gave him a "well, hello, take my money so I can get out of here, wouldja" kind of look. Then the guy who *really* worked there turned up. I paid and left. I'd walked about half a block when the guy I'd looked at in error turned up beside me, saying, I think, something along the lines of "Hey I wanna tell you something." I didn't feel very threatened by him because he was keeping some distance from me and his body language kind of spoke of him not wanting to threaten me, but nonetheless I didn't really want a guy following me, so I phoned Seren. I talked with him for about five minutes, and when I hung up the phone the guy who had been following me was gone. Effective. I walked the rest of the way home unharrassed.
Then, a few days later, I was window-shopping in Bakırköy and went into a shoe-shop. The guy working inside was the one who had followed me! He looked absolutely delighted at my appearance. "Do you remember me?" he asked in Turkish. I said yes. "Where from?" like an uncle talking to a favourite niece. "The internet cafe." Exasperated tone. He looked as though I'd just scored an A on an important exam and held out his hand. I thought, OK, shake the guy's hand and get out of here. Instead of shaking my hand, though, he kissed it, murmuring "My name's Mehmet" (all this still in Turkish). "Bron," I responded, and lost my head completely, too polite for my own good, allowed myself to be shown the selection of shoes on the upper floor. Mehmet was talking fast, I didn't understand half of it, and when he tried to get me to sit down and get my backpack off me, I decided enough was enough and went downstairs again. Luckily there were other customers just coming in so Mehmet had to stop trying to convince me to stay.
Seren was nearly apoplectic when I told him about all this and insisted on a full description of Mehmet's appearance and the shop where he worked. I only hoped he wouldn't confront the guy. Don't think he has so far.
Then, a couple of nights later, Katherine and I were walking home down İstiklal Caddesi when a guy called out "Hey baby, can you give me sex?" We'd just been talking about our various annoying being-pursued experiences, and so both wheeled and responded furiously, Katherine shouting "FUCK OFF!" and I giving the non-verbal equivalent (involving arms, not fingers). That same night, when we got back to Bakırköy, we got a curb-crawler as we neared Alison's house. Katherine pulled out "Fuck off" again and added "I'm a teacher, not a prostitute!" and I chimed in with "git, git, ayip ya!" again. He drove off.
Well, last night I was out with Julia. We had intended to go to Galatasary hamam, but when we got there, it was fifty two lira! The lady very kindly bumped it down to forty-five, but given that the most expensive hamam I've ever had was twenty-nine at Çemberlitaş, and I was shocked by that, we decided to go to a lesser-known one in Kumkapı that I went to once with Alison.
We got to Kumkapı, found the hamam, got inside... and no-one was there. We called and called and wandered around, and finally gave up. When we got outside, though, a little old guy told us he'd just run and get the woman who worked there. (No, this guy does not end up doing anything bad. He was a nice middle-aged man.) Anyway, finally he said he'd found her, but just as we were standing at the door, in a sunken courtyard outside the hamam, waiting for her to come, Julia spotted a guy up on a balcony overlooking the courtyard. "He's got his penis out," she said (which was entirely factual). "Let's go."
Shaken now, we went off to eat mezze and drink rakı at a nearby restaurant, feeling that every man we passed on the way (and there were numbers of them) was staring at us. "I am so SICK of being stared at," said Julia.
I was quite a bit polluted when we parted, but it wasn't too late. I got the train back to Bakırköy without incident, but when I walked out of the station I felt that the guy walking behind me was following me. I couldn't be sure, so I just walked straight ahead, past the dolmuş street and along the road that runs past the meydan. He was still behind me. I crossed the road, and he didn't follow, now walking parallel to me. I wasn't scared so much as mad, and also had the impression that he was a young guy, around Seren's age. I turned a corner, walked a few metres, and heard his footsteps behind me.
Blazing mad now, I turned without hesitation and yelled a sentence Seren taught me, "Bırak beni!" which means, leave me alone. I was surprised to see that he was actually an older man, and he started to say something that began "Arkadaş..." (friend). I didn't give him a chance. "BIRAK BENİ!" I half-growled, deep in my throat, "Şimdi!" (Now!) "AYIP!" (SHAME!). His lips pursed. He looked half-shocked -- even a bit frightened, perhaps -- half-ashamed, and he spun on his heel and left. I couldn't believe my success.
I've had a bit more trouble than usual in the last few months with Turkish Guys Being Creepy. About three months ago, I was really scared by a guy following me home. He came up saying "Don't be scared, don't be scared" and then went on to ask me if I had any friends (nearby, I suppose -- all this in Turkish, of course). I ignored him and kept walking, and he asked again. I vehemently responded in the affirmative, to which he said in Turkish, "You're lying." I was about four blocks from my house, and luckily very close to a corner store I often use, which I immediately turned into. I told the guy inside that there was a man and I was scared (I couldn't really provide any other details in my basic Turkish). He looked appropriately concerned, in the typical Turkish-chivalrous way which I've come to realise is the flipside of the same coin as Turkish-boorishness. *sigh* We both went outside and peered around in the darkness but couldn't see the guy, so I lurked in the store for a little while then headed off for the last three blocks home. Within half a block of my house the guy turned up again, talking fast, with his phone out. I was mad and scared, and I said to him "Ev arkadaşlar var" (I have flatmates), "erkek arkadaş var" (I have a boyfriend), "ve TÜRK!" (and he's TURKISH!). The guy didn't go away. "Git!" I yelled (go!). Nothing. "Defol!" (Piss off!), then, at the top of my lungs, "AYIP YA!" (basically, shame on you!) That worked. He spun and disappeared, right at the steps to my apartment. I went in shaking. Luckily Katherine was home.
I was so unnerved by this incident, which occurred at nine-thirty at night, that the next time I had to walk home alone from an evening class I wrapped a scarf around my head.
More recently, I was working late in an internet cafe. I went to pay, and saw a guy who I thought worked there and gave him a "well, hello, take my money so I can get out of here, wouldja" kind of look. Then the guy who *really* worked there turned up. I paid and left. I'd walked about half a block when the guy I'd looked at in error turned up beside me, saying, I think, something along the lines of "Hey I wanna tell you something." I didn't feel very threatened by him because he was keeping some distance from me and his body language kind of spoke of him not wanting to threaten me, but nonetheless I didn't really want a guy following me, so I phoned Seren. I talked with him for about five minutes, and when I hung up the phone the guy who had been following me was gone. Effective. I walked the rest of the way home unharrassed.
Then, a few days later, I was window-shopping in Bakırköy and went into a shoe-shop. The guy working inside was the one who had followed me! He looked absolutely delighted at my appearance. "Do you remember me?" he asked in Turkish. I said yes. "Where from?" like an uncle talking to a favourite niece. "The internet cafe." Exasperated tone. He looked as though I'd just scored an A on an important exam and held out his hand. I thought, OK, shake the guy's hand and get out of here. Instead of shaking my hand, though, he kissed it, murmuring "My name's Mehmet" (all this still in Turkish). "Bron," I responded, and lost my head completely, too polite for my own good, allowed myself to be shown the selection of shoes on the upper floor. Mehmet was talking fast, I didn't understand half of it, and when he tried to get me to sit down and get my backpack off me, I decided enough was enough and went downstairs again. Luckily there were other customers just coming in so Mehmet had to stop trying to convince me to stay.
Seren was nearly apoplectic when I told him about all this and insisted on a full description of Mehmet's appearance and the shop where he worked. I only hoped he wouldn't confront the guy. Don't think he has so far.
Then, a couple of nights later, Katherine and I were walking home down İstiklal Caddesi when a guy called out "Hey baby, can you give me sex?" We'd just been talking about our various annoying being-pursued experiences, and so both wheeled and responded furiously, Katherine shouting "FUCK OFF!" and I giving the non-verbal equivalent (involving arms, not fingers). That same night, when we got back to Bakırköy, we got a curb-crawler as we neared Alison's house. Katherine pulled out "Fuck off" again and added "I'm a teacher, not a prostitute!" and I chimed in with "git, git, ayip ya!" again. He drove off.
Well, last night I was out with Julia. We had intended to go to Galatasary hamam, but when we got there, it was fifty two lira! The lady very kindly bumped it down to forty-five, but given that the most expensive hamam I've ever had was twenty-nine at Çemberlitaş, and I was shocked by that, we decided to go to a lesser-known one in Kumkapı that I went to once with Alison.
We got to Kumkapı, found the hamam, got inside... and no-one was there. We called and called and wandered around, and finally gave up. When we got outside, though, a little old guy told us he'd just run and get the woman who worked there. (No, this guy does not end up doing anything bad. He was a nice middle-aged man.) Anyway, finally he said he'd found her, but just as we were standing at the door, in a sunken courtyard outside the hamam, waiting for her to come, Julia spotted a guy up on a balcony overlooking the courtyard. "He's got his penis out," she said (which was entirely factual). "Let's go."
Shaken now, we went off to eat mezze and drink rakı at a nearby restaurant, feeling that every man we passed on the way (and there were numbers of them) was staring at us. "I am so SICK of being stared at," said Julia.
I was quite a bit polluted when we parted, but it wasn't too late. I got the train back to Bakırköy without incident, but when I walked out of the station I felt that the guy walking behind me was following me. I couldn't be sure, so I just walked straight ahead, past the dolmuş street and along the road that runs past the meydan. He was still behind me. I crossed the road, and he didn't follow, now walking parallel to me. I wasn't scared so much as mad, and also had the impression that he was a young guy, around Seren's age. I turned a corner, walked a few metres, and heard his footsteps behind me.
Blazing mad now, I turned without hesitation and yelled a sentence Seren taught me, "Bırak beni!" which means, leave me alone. I was surprised to see that he was actually an older man, and he started to say something that began "Arkadaş..." (friend). I didn't give him a chance. "BIRAK BENİ!" I half-growled, deep in my throat, "Şimdi!" (Now!) "AYIP!" (SHAME!). His lips pursed. He looked half-shocked -- even a bit frightened, perhaps -- half-ashamed, and he spun on his heel and left. I couldn't believe my success.