When I was in elementary school, I remember learning about the mysterious and exotic city of Byzantium, that later became Constantinople and is now known as Istanbul. This city, rich in history, captured my imagination and I wanted to go there. Istanbul is the first place I remember wanting to travel to, the first foreign land that captured my imagination. I knew that I would be visiting Istanbul in the summer with The Well Internship, but when the opportunity came up to take a quick weekend vacation, I was super excited! I would finally get to visit the place that started my travel craze.
While I was very excited to visit and see places that I had read about as I child, I did not prepare for this trip in the same way that I do for other international trips. Instead of considering what the culture would be like, I jumped in and found my expectations (that I didn't know I had) were all wrong. So, while I got to see amazing things, spend time with my new friends on my team, and practice taking pictures, my stay was rather stressful.
In the majority of my experience with international travel, I have not been the tourist. I have either lived in a place, or had a specific job there. With those experiences, my goal was always to do what I could to blend in and not stand out. In my head, if I was obviously a tourist, then I would be targeted. When you have red hair, fair skin, and are traveling with 4 other single women in Istanbul, you stand out. Not only was that an underlying source of stress, but the ways that the vendors related to tourists was all new to me.
We were walking down the street, only seconds after leaving our hostel. There were restaurants on both sides of the street, with men who worked there standing at the doors:
"Beautiful women, come eat here!"
"Oh, Ladies, where are you from?"
"I give good discount!"
"Are you sisters?"
Every man we passed said something to us, demanding our attention and our patronage. Several even walked with us for a ways, swinging between lavish compliments of our beauty and imploring us to come and drink tea with them.
"No thanks."
"We already ate."
We responded to some of them. Not all of the things called after us were polite or pleasant. As we entered a neighborhood made up of stores and cafes, the catcalls started. We heard kissing sounds, the men were more aggressive about us coming into their shops or restaurants. One man walked towards us, arms outstretched and declared: "Here I am, ladies!"
Some of the things that were called out to us were funny, like the man presenting himself with "Here I am!," or the man in the Grand Bazaar who said "I love me!" While in small doses this might be fun, or if you are expecting it, it could be interesting; for me it was painful. I felt threatened and unsafe, even in a group. The funny thing is that I felt guilty for feeling so stressed. I wanted to like it. It was a hard trip for me, but I'm glad I went. I learned a lot about myself. I'm looking forward to going back this summer, now that I know what to expect. I think I'll probably enjoy it more.