The following article is about the riots that took place in Istanbul from May to August 2013. The riots that I will discuss in this piece were the result of the Turkish government wanting to construct a shopping mall in place of a park in Taksim, a region of Istanbul. The peaceful protests which consisted of setting up camps in the park to prevent bulldozers from removing the trees received a violent response from the authorities who proceeded to burn the camps and scare the protesters using tear gas. Over the course of  four months there were over 8,000 injuries and eleven deaths. The reaction of the authorities was an act that opposed democracy and the fact that people died because the government could not spare a park is the reason why these events had great significance.

I stood there, looking at the fountain that sits at the center of the park. There I was, situated at the heart of the conflict that took place only a month ago, this park was the reason it all happened. I just waited there, admiring the fountain and the beautiful green trees that surround it, while listening to the faint conversations of the people walking by, trying to make sense of everything that had happened the month before. Without realising, I had stayed there gazing for about five minutes, when I was finally able to snap out of the park’s charm, I left and started walking down the cobblestone road that led into the plaza.

As I walked down the road I noticed something else, I remembered eating at a restaurant not far from the plaza a few years ago. That restaurant, along with a few others, had disappeared, causing this massive area to seem like a desert with only a few people walking around. It was odd walking along this “desert” because most of the riots and fights took place here. I looked around and imagined a large group of people clashing with the police, pepper spray being used by the police to calm them down. I pictured the rioters screaming in pain as the pepper spray reached them.  It might have seemed like a meaningless place to any ordinary tourist, but to us, this place contains agonizing memories that we will not be able to forget in a long time.

Later on I walked even further down the path into the most tightly packed street of all, which had turned into my least favorite. There were so many tourists that I could barely hear my native language being spoken. It bothered me how so little time had passed since the riots, and already this place was flooded with people from every nation you could imagine. I do not know how, but I finally made it to the coffee shop that I was anxious to visit.
The coffee shop was one of the places that had not changed much since the recent events, in fact, it was more or less the same. I sat down in a seat which was on the balcony of the third floor, sitting down, I could see a better image of the street. There must have been thousands of people walking down along the street that day. Looking down, I imagined myself trying to squeeze through the narrow gaps between people without touching them. A tram came sliding across the tracks that were in the middle of the street, equally splitting the pedestrians to each side of the street. I glared at the symbolic, bright red tram as it passed through the road, everyone in the city thought of this street when they thought of them. 

Walking back to the subway, I understood how trams would mean more than just a street packed with tourists, more than a calm, beautiful park that many people saw worth fighting for. I was able to see how all those people, including myself, had beautiful memories that took place in that very park.

As the metro screeched to a stop I realised that trams symbolized much more, I realised that the fountain meant much more, and I realised that the next time I thought of Taksim, the next time I thought of Istanbul, I would not think of a lost place packed with tourists. No, I would think of the people who would not let go of a park that meant so much to them, I would think of everything the rioters had accomplished by not letting the park slip away. Once I would have thought the rioters were stupid for risking their lives, now I knew what the park was to them and understood that I would have done the same thing if I were them.

I stepped onto the metro with a feeling of satisfaction, and for the first time ever, I was glad that the riots had happened.