A Turkish journalist’s diary from NATO summit in Ankara

A veteran Turkish journalist once told me that a large part of journalism is simply running. This advice echoed loudly last week as thousands of media members sprinted through the corridors of the NATO summit in Ankara, trying to keep pace with world leaders.

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A large part of journalism is simply running.

On the summit's first day, June 7, the relentless pace led me to abandon my dress shoes for sneakers by dawn on Day 2. Watching international colleagues move comfortably in practical footwear gave me the courage to do the same. Turkish journalists often place ceremonial importance on suits and polished appearances, perhaps a misconception born from tradition or a lack of global experience.

The "running," however, began long before any journalist laced up their sneakers. Days before foreign delegates arrived, the Turkish capital underwent a swift makeover. Streets were repaired, medians replanted, and sidewalks power-washed. This civic renovation quickly became a subject of public ridicule, as societies naturally resent the implication that their daily lives deserve less dignity than the image projected to foreign dignitaries.

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I've never seen this street this clean in my life.

My taxi driver offered a blistering commentary on this sudden metropolitan renovation. "Look over there," he chuckled, pointing to a street he'd never seen so clean. "And for God's sake, look at that over there; there used to be piles of construction stones left there for months." To him, the freshly polished Ankara wasn't an achievement but proof of administrative neglect, suggesting the city could have always looked this pristine if anyone had cared before NATO arrived. He even quipped, "So, if it weren't for NATO, you probably wouldn't have bothered coming to Ankara either, right?"

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And for God's sake, look at that over there; there used to be piles of construction stones left there for months.

As if to soften the jab, he offered me a handful of impossibly sweet, ice-cold cherries. I couldn't resist a counter-punch, suggesting that with cherries this good, it's no wonder they weren't going to the local market but were destined for a director's desk. The memory of those cherries, and the driver's sharp observations, stayed with me long after the summit concluded.

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So, if it weren't for NATO, you probably wouldn't have bothered coming to Ankara either, right?