After yesterday’s events I paced, wondering whether to make the trip over to Taksim Square where most of the protests came head to head with police. I, like most tourists in the wake of these unexpected protests, was weighing the same consequences against witnessing something spectacular. Not knowing what to expect, I took into account anything that might keep me safe, like wearing modest clothing so as not to draw any attention to myself. Moreover, I wanted to keep as much of my skin covered as possible because many people had broken out into rashes and burns from the tear gas unleased on crowds over the weekend.

Taksim Square sits on a raised plateau. One side of the square leads down towards the coast, while the other side faces Gezi Park. After taking a boat from the Asian side of Istanbul to the European side, I boarded a tram that dropped me off at the base of the plateau. Everything on the coast seemed as it was a year ago and I relaxed some. I began the upward climb on thin streets of broken marble stairs cases and ramps. The conditions of these roads were also the same as last year and gave the area a European charm.

After about ten minutes of walking, as I reached closer to the top of the plateau where the square stood, I started noticing differences. I remembered having to be vigilant about motorcycles and taxis on these narrow streets last summer. It had an emptiness about it that raised my awareness immediately. Then I saw the blockade. Since I had stayed in a hotel on that narrow street, I was familiar with the way it should have looked. At the very end of the street that leads to the flat top square you usually saw blue sky because nothing else rose above it. Now you saw cardboard and fencing that made it difficult for a person to get beyond it, and impossible for a vehicle.

Standing looking at the square you couldn’t help but feel a chill. Nearly every storefront surrounding the square had been damaged. There’s something strangely eerie when you see American businesses like Starbucks and Burger King with broken signs and littered with graffiti. To someone who had never seen a protest go awry, it seemed out of a movie where the world ended. I walked near the now closed Starbucks and asked the most unintimidating person I could find to translate what was on the wall. He told me “ILK YARDIM” meant first aid. He also added that many businesses offered food and water in addition to first aid care for the protestors, many of whom had not gone home in days. Before I could ask another question, we were interrupted and then separated by a large group of protestors chanting their way through the square.

It was about 3:00 PM and high schools in the area must have just been dismissed for the day. The square flooded with teenagers raising various signs. I noticed a young girl from the group being taken over to the makeshift clinic to be treated for a cut that ran diagonally down her calf. I had been so taken aback by the damaged storefronts that it wasn’t until the large crowd marched away toward the park that I started seeing upturned vehicles in the middle of the square. I knew that the protestors had “won” the square against the police, but it only now made sense that police withdrawal from the area also meant that these vehicles couldn’t be removed.

Nonetheless, I had heard days earlier that most protestors involved were repentant about the destruction of the area. After all, they knew that they were simply destroying the city they loved despite what the government attempted to enforce. I saw a handful of people not employed by the city with trash bags collecting litter from the square quietly, almost privately, trying to make amends.

I continued walking and saw two abandoned news vans. They blended in momentarily because of the graffiti that rarely left a spot missed. Just a year ago, The New Yorker reported Turkey as the country with the highest number of imprisoned journalists. The police were said to have used water cannons particularly to disable journalists from capturing the events of the weekend. Moreover, it is common knowledge that Prime Minister Erdogan has a no tolerance policy for any public criticisms of his rule.

I was warned by quite a few people to come back towards the Asian side before the evening, when most people would return to protests after work. Not knowing a word of Turkish, I figured this would be a good idea in case blocked roads kept me from getting back to my hotel. On the ferry back, I was asked by some Iranian tourists for some help understanding the ferry schedule. They were staying near Taksim, where I had just been, and wondered when the last ferry left the Asian side for the European area. I told them what I understood about the schedule and we began chatting as we moved away from the harbor.

Their names were Khosrow and Parvin. In their 50’s, they came to Istanbul for business and combined it with a vacation. Having just seen the Taksim area in that state, I asked how they were coping. They said they arrived last Thursday before any signs of protests began. Parvin took out her digital camera and showed me a picture of them in front of the Monument of the Republic centered in the square. It looked just as I’d seen it a year earlier.

On Friday morning, they went sightseeing away from their hotel in Taksim. When they returned they found a completely changed area. Shaking her head, Parvin explained that it took them over two hours to reenter their hotel, because they were continuously being rerouted around streets that were too dangerous to enter. Worse, the two hour time frame she gave didn’t include her visit to one of these makeshift clinics. She then said, “I show you,” and lifted up her sleeve. I didn’t know what to expect before I looked down.

Her whole arm was covered in a shiny rash that resembled a burn. She explained that it was all over her body. The tear gas had grown so thick in the area that people were urged to stay indoors. Since they had already wandered for so long trying to get back to their hotel, they decided to go inside the clinic and rest. Unfortunately they could do nothing for Parvin’s itching at the time and kindly offered her as much water as she needed. Over the next few days they left their hotel as early as possible and stayed away from Taksim. Still they knew to return to their hotel before the evening hours so they had a better chance of avoiding any conflict.

As I took a minibus from the harbor towards my hotel, I could already see the streets becoming crowded with stopped cars and protestors. It was so impressive that people continued to take the time to protest. They’ve used this tool without fear, knowing that if they stand idle there will be greater things to fear on the horizon. It’s incredibly responsible to be so vigilant against your government and protective of your rights.

I returned to my hotel feeling grateful and proud. Grateful for all the freedoms that constitute my daily life and proud that others will do what they feel is necessary to protect theirs.