Istanbul

Daniel Metz
Aug 28, 2017 · 6 min read

The organized chaos of the city’s narrow streets, the randomness of its neighborhoods and its almost anarchic urban planning illustrate the beauty of Istanbul. Thousands of years of habitation coupled with successive conquering by various empires resulted in an historic city in which modern architecture and an expanding public transportation system intertwine with roads that locals have used for centuries. Spice shops and markets sit on corners, bakeries and cafes are crammed in between real estate offices and hair salons, creating an often unnavigable labyrinth of alleyways and streets. A friend once told me, “Istanbul is the only city in the world where even taxi drivers will get lost and have to stop to ask for directions.”

The Bosporus Straight, a slim channel that connects the northern Black Sea to the southern Marmara, Aegean and Mediterranean seas, is the physical border that separates the European and Asian parts of Istanbul. Historically a multitude of ethnic groups, the inhabitants have somewhat homogenized since the founding of the modern Turkish state in 1923. Still, small groups of religious and ethnic minorities reside throughout the vast urban landscape. The city built itself up around a handful of historic districts, but as the population increases exponentially each year the city limits have begun to stretch even further southeast towards the Turkish heartland and northwest towards the Balkans. Almost 15 million people live in Istanbul, making it the largest city in Turkey, in Europe and one of the largest in the world.

Back in October of 2016, I had recently started my final year at Indiana University after living in Ankara for 11 months, and I was determined to find any a way back to after graduation. Ideas ranged from doing another language program to just buying a one-way ticket and looking for a job as an English teacher. But I eventually decided on applying for a scholarship the Media School provides to graduating seniors for a research trip somewhere around the globe. I had my sights set on Istanbul.

The scholarship was very competitive and required a proposal including a timeline, budget proposal, some amount of groundwork and, if selected, an interview in which I would have to explain and defend my idea to a selection committee. I chose a topic I thought would resonate with the committee, a theme I thought I would have an easy enough time doing preliminary research and a location where I could navigate easily and find enough interviews before I left. I chose Syrian refugees as my topic, education as my theme and Istanbul as my location. The selection committee called me for an interview a couple of weeks after I submitted my proposal, I found out I won the award the week before Thanksgiving, and by Christmas, I had made my way to the Turkish Consulate General in Chicago, where I applied for my visa.

Having spent about a year learning Turkish and living in Ankara, I was lucky enough to not have to worry about adjusting to the culture or struggling to make connections with a translator. But there were a couple of problems I faced while in Istanbul that I hadn’t fully anticipated. The first was getting people to talk to me. I might have been naïve to think that immigration was apolitical enough for researchers and experts to be willing to talk, but on several occasions, I had made connections with a university professor or NGO worker who quickly denied my request for an interview. Several of the interviews I was able to conduct were entirely off the record, and a few interviewees were fine with me recording and taking notes but weren’t okay with me publishing their name or organization. The Syrians themselves were the most elusive. While experts or aid workers would typically ask to stay off the record, saying they don’t want to stir the waters and cause trouble for themselves or their organization, Syrians wanted to remain entirely unknown. I tried to set up an interview through a mutual friend with a Syrian man who had recently opened a restaurant in Istanbul, but he denied my request, saying that he had enough problems already and didn’t want the whole world to know who he was.

The other main problem I faced that dictated the course of my research was permission from the government. I had made connections with members in the administration of a temporary education center, a sort of pop-up school for refugees, in the Central Anatolian city of Kayseri. However, I found out after I got to Istanbul that to even enter this school required explicit permission from the Ministry of National Education, which would have taken at least two months to apply for and acquire. I asked a university professor I interviewed about getting approval from the government, and she almost scoffed, saying that it was problematic for even a Turkish citizen to get that kind of access. A foreigner wouldn’t have a chance. I had to decide at that point: pursue this temporary education center and possibly lose valuable time in the process, or expand on the sources I already have and reroute the direction of my story.

I doubled down my efforts, trying to make up for the couple of lost weeks trying to figure out the best way to get to Kayseri, and I started looking for local interviews with anyone who had any relation to immigration, refugees or even Syrians in general. I contacted immigration research centers at universities throughout Istanbul. I sent messages to non-governmental organizations whose names I had seen printed in other news stories. I had friends or contacts involved with aid work or these organizations drop hints to their supervisors or ask their co-workers to let me interview them. A couple of times I actually went out with sources to community centers to help local shelters or charities with whatever work they needed help with. It gave me an opportunity to see how some of these local organizations work, talk to Turks, Arabs and whoever else was working to better the lives of refugees and get a perspective on the needs and living conditions that many migrants face while living in Istanbul.

I also decided near the halfway point through the summer that I would hold off writing my story until after I left Istanbul. Partially out of fear of not having enough interviews to put together an in-depth story, I thought it would be better to work to the absolute last moment I was in Istanbul and start combing through interviews and statistics the moment I got back. I also decided near the halfway point through the summer that I would hold off writing my story until after I left Istanbul. Partially out of fear of not having enough interviews to put together an in-depth story, I thought it would be better to work to the absolute last moment I was in Istanbul and start combing through interviews and statistics the moment I got back. Part of what made me decide this was some time I lost trying to pursue another story topic: LGBT refugees. There is no quick and easy way to approach a group of people about an aspect of themselves that in Turkey is traditionally kept relatively secret. More so than regular refugees trying to blend into Turkish society, LGBT refugees had to overcome social and political hurdles and organizations that work with LGBT refugees tended to pursue the philosophy of staying out of the spotlight at an even higher rate than most. In the end, I was forced to drop that story idea as well. There were too many dead-end leads, too many people unwilling to speak on the record, and out of fear of returning home empty handed, I stuck with a topic I knew I could write about: Syrians studying in higher education.

The following set of stories belong to a series I wrote during and immediately after my time in Istanbul researching immigration to Istanbul, Turkish migration policy, Syrians settling into Turkish life and primarily the economic integration of refugees. They detail just a handful of the experiences I had and the people I met.

Based on story originally published 06/01/2017 on my personal blog: https://danielsmetz.wordpress.com/2017/06/01/welcome-to-istanbul/

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Daniel Metz

Mostly just eating kebab. Occasionally writing. Always in Istanbul | English, Türkçe

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