Driving the 0-1 national road straight through Istanbul feels like being part of a blood vessel system. At sunset, one could be easily convinced that the red blood cells are being pumped to the east, while the white ones are driven to the west. In both directions they seem to be propelled by a heart with arrhythmia. I have no other choice but to follow this pulsating stream of bloody sturdy sirop called traffic jam.
Sometimes blue or orange blinking cells carve themselves a selfish way through the red ones, supported by alarming sounds. As if referring to diseases in the system. It’s clear, we’re in the main vein of a monstrous and ever growing creature. I ask myself when this organism will stop growing? Or will it just keep on eternally devouring the land and polluting the air with its stinking breath, while incessantly dumping its excrement in the surrounding waters?
A map is sometimes very similar to a blood vessel system with arteries, capillary vessels, clusters and branches.
In the middle between both lanes of road 0-1 is another vessel system, completely separate from the one I’m in. I guess it’s the lymph system. It collects big groups of individual cells in concatenated capsules and carries them quickly and smoothly in both directions. In the outer lanes, most of the red and white blood cells carry only one core, a single passenger. At least from a biological point of view, this makes sense. But, the city of Istanbul could benefit a great deal from increased public transport like in its lymph system, or at least some form of carpooling. It would, in any regard, ease Istanbul’s suffering case of hypertension.
To the left we pass the city’s Trump Towers. I reluctantly admit that they represent one of the most architecturally interesting buildings along the main transit road. Most other towers are just megalomaniacal and phoney. Our patience is rewarded when we reach one of the bypasses that connect the European and Asian part of the city. While we cross the Bosphorus, the sunset reaches its final stage. Entering Asia feels as if both continents simply share the same blood vessel system. Like conjoined twins.
It’s completely dark on the road past Bursa. An Iveco Daily ute seems to follow us. When we slow down, he slows down. When we accelerate, he accelerates. Then he passes by us on a slope and immediately slows down. We are obliged to pass by in turn. We leave the highway at the next parking. The other truck immediately follows us. We stop. He stops. Two guys step out and approach us, enthusiastically gesticulating. Apparently they are blown away by our expedition truck. We communicate by means of gestures. We show them the interior of the vehicle. They ask us to take a picture of them with the truck. A few minutes later they leave, hooting goodbye still full of enthusiasm.
Blood brothers.