Deported

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In mid-November, 2010, my Turkish Residence Permit expired. Due to a clerical snafu, several teachers found themselves in the same predicament. We were told by the school that the only solution was to deport us at different times, so that we could re-enter the country as tourists for three months, during which time our Residence Permits would be renewed. Since then we have all been teaching in Turkey illegally.
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On November 11, a school day, Amy Feeley and I were deported. Amy is a Londoner, 20-something, who teaches biology. We climbed into a 15 passenger school van and were driven by Savas Bey (Mr. Savage, how comforting) to the city of Edirne, the capital of Edirne province, which has over 400,000 occupants, most of whom appeared to be employable males sitting along the sidewalks, smoking, drinking sweet tea and playing backgammon. Edirne sits at the borders of Turkey, Greece and Bulgaria, and its name is derived from Adrianopolis, from back when the Greeks had the most guns. It is reputed to be one of the best preserved Ottoman cities, but were not able to stop and investigate. I plan to go back. I did see its famous mosque, built by the greatest of all Ottoman architects, Selim, the Greatest of All Ottoman Architects, who also architected the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. Edirne is the also center of the national sport of Turkey, grease wrestling, the championship bouts of which take place on an island between two local rivers. June, 2010, witnessed the 649th grease wrestling championship. I was in Turkey then; if I’d only known!
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We drove through the city and down a beautiful cobbled lane that ran straight for over a kilometer -- Roma (Gypsies) passed by on two-wheeled, horse-drawn carts -- small, careworn , dirty faces, adults and children huddled together against the cold -- beautiful, orange leaves fell from the trees -- Puccini rang from the radio -- a very cinematic moment. We crossed a river over a beautifully conceived stone bridge and onto a country lane that led us to the border with Greece.
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Our driver walked us to a window and conversed with the occupant of the booth who was sitting in a uniform behind a pane of glass. Amy and I fidgeted. Uniform Guy asked for our Residence Permits. What!? Why should I have brought an expired Residence Permit? It seemed incriminatory: “Yes, Officer, here is undeniable proof that I am definitely living and working in Turkey illegally.” I turned in astonishment to Amy, who had brought her expired Residence Permit, and she said, “Didn’t they tell you?” (I think “Didn’t they tell you?” must be the most famous of the infamous Famous Last Words -- Brutus to Julius Caesar in the Forum; John the Baptist to Jesus in the River Jordan; Jim Bowie to Davy Crockett at the Alamo: “Didn’t they tell you?”) Savas Bey muttered, “Problem.” My guts turned to jelly.
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Luckily, since it was a school day, the office secretaries were at work and were able to find the necessary photocopies of my document, the numbers from which satisfied Uniform Guy. Savas Bey pointed us to a fenced alleyway, and told Amy to call him on her cell phone when we had returned from Greece so that he could pick us up for the return trip to Istanbul. We set off warily, passing gates guarded by soldiers in full combat gear, bearing semi-automatic weapons, passing machine gun nests protected by barbed wire and sand bags, passing silently through a no-man’s-land of wire fences topped by concertina wire. No birds sang. The only sound was the crunching of gravel under our feet. I turned to my favorite mental channel -- Martin and the Luthiers. Amy felt uneasy enough to call Mr. Savage. That’s when she realized she had left her phone in the van. Talk about feeling alone ...
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At the end of no-man’s-land was a simple barricade. A kid on a skateboard could have ducked under it easily. We handed our passports to the young, uniformed guard who stamped them without compunction. We entered Greece. It was like being in an episode of Twilight Zone. Empty apartments and offices lined a single street that seemed to lead to nowhere. The buildings looked new or refurbished, but there were no vehicles moving or parked. No faces peeked from behind curtains. No cats or dogs. Just us.
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We walked for half an hour before we encountered any living thing -- four men engaged in a game of backgammon. They stared at us. I stared back. They didn’t back down, nor did I, even after we’d past. I’m stubborn at stupid times. We had both been given $25 for expenses. Once we found an open restaurant, they would not take USD. So, after walking into Greece for an hour, we turned around and walked out, not having seen a single ancient ruin. We re-entered Turkey, got our passports stamped with tourist visas and were driven home, after a delightful lunch at a riverside café in view of the aforementioned beautifully conceived stone bridge.
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Amy and I are now legal aliens teaching in Turkey illegally.