Man, nothing prepares you for driving on an Istanbul highway. It’s not just busy it’s constant. I remember gripping the wheel so tight my hands hurt, trying to keep my lane while everything around me moved like it had its own rules.
I stayed in the right lane thinking it would be calmer. Nope. Within seconds, cars were flying past on both sides, and a minibus merged like it didn’t believe mirrors were real. Motorbikes kept appearing in the smallest gaps close enough that I caught myself holding my breath.
And the horns… people think it’s just anger, but it’s more like communication. A quick beep is “I’m here.” A longer one is “don’t do that.” Sometimes it’s just “move, please.” You’re constantly reading tiny signals speed changes, a wheel angle, someone drifting half a meter because that’s the only way it feels predictable.
When I finally took my exit into a quieter street, I realized my shoulders were up by my ears. The “silence” wasn’t even silent I was just so relieved the pressure dropped.
I’m not saying it’s “better” driving. It’s just different. And it definitely makes you appreciate calm roads when you get them.