ISTANBUL, Turkey - The things I love about Turkey generally make no sense to me. Take the baked potato vendors, for example: Each stall offers the same bizarre toppings of sausage, peas, corn, cabbage and mayonnaise.
Then there's the Turkish devotion to backgammon.
No American parallel exists for the backgammon tradition here, for the way a board game has endured as the national pastime. Grab a seat at almost any cafe, order your tea, and next to the ashtray on your table is probably a backgammon set.
Here in Istanbul-an ancient city where nothing is permanent-people have played backgammon for centuries. The city is sacked, rebuilt and re-sacked; empires dissolve, republics emerge and coups overthrow leaders. And after every upheaval the citizens of Istanbul unpack their boards, roll the dice and play backgammon.
So it is fitting, two weeks before elections, that I spent three hours last Saturday playing backgammon at an outdoor cafe. One table over from me, two grizzled men hunched themselves over the board with cigarette in one hand and dice in the other. Across from us sat a young, stylish couple, squeezed cozily on a bench with the board perched between them.
A cafe may well have stood in that spot since the menus were in Arabic script. When I glanced up from our game, however, I saw two nightclubs (one named Cheers) and the bar where my friend's cover band plays songs from the Killers and Green Day Friday nights. A block away from our timeless game, Istiklal Street throbbed with modern activity. Crowds spilled in and out of Lacoste, Nike and Mavi stores. Between buildings hung banner ads for political candidates, water conservation and Turkcell phone plans.
It doesn't make any sense, Istanbul, and so of course I'm infatuated with it. To say Istanbul is a big city does not begin to convey the overwhelming force of its history and of its 15 million-plus inhabitants. And the population is growing daily, its numbers swelled by migrants from rural, mostly conservative areas wholly alien to this Western-oriented, urbanized environment.
Istanbul is a crowded city; the Turkish word for minibus is literally "stuffed." Ethnicities, religions, classes and ideologies jostle for breathing room on every corner. Somehow, one city is home to both the second-largest mall in the world and to countless gecekondu-migrant settlements of cardboard and tin that huddle on the city's fringes and pockmark its garbage dumps.
Campaign season has consolidated and exposed all these contrasts. It is easy to think of Istanbul as a den of Western sins like the recent Shakira concert, but its mayor belongs to the moderately Islamic Justice and Development (AK) Party. Current Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan, who threw the secular military establishment into a tizzy by even considering a presidential candidacy, also once served as mayor of Istanbul.
As part of my camp counselor duties here, I shepherd kids to a bowling alley every afternoon. On the bus ride I traverse the entire political spectrum, passing the campaign ads of four different parties in five minutes. Watching the abrupt transition between opposing parties' flags and banners, I feel like I'm at a carnival, or perhaps a car dealership. Red and white flags promoting the MHP or CHP shift abruptly to the AKP's orange, blue and white or occasionally to Anavatan's green. Forget red states and blue states-to ideologically color code Istanbul would require a palette and attention to each city block.
Thumbing lamely through my Turkish dictionary, I decipher slogans from their billboards. "To the world, there is one answer," intones the ultranationalist MHP. I have a hunch it involves invading northern Iraq. "Keep to the road," the ruling AKP earnestly states. "Peace of mind and order are the first priority," insists the CHP. Their main theme seems based in affirmation theory: "The republic will win, the people will win." Our youth will win, labor will win, Istanbul will win, Duke football will win-if they can make it happen, more power to them.
Although the tension here is less palpable than two months ago, the significance of these elections has not diminished. Regardless of the AKP retaining power as expected in Sunday's elections, Turkey must confront its calcifying cultural divisions and work toward a viable, civilian-governed democracy. The winning party will also chart a course through presidential elections, EU membership talks and relations with the U.S.
Istanbul and Turkey are headed for change-so in other words it's business (and backgammon) as usual.
Leslie Griffith is a Trinity junior and editorial page managing editor of The Chronicle.
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