Istanbul airport
While slightly tired, I was in fairly good spirits (having managed to arrive in Turkey in one piece) and ready to start experiencing this new country. The plan was for me to hang around the airport and wait for Sarah, one of the Australian girls I’d be traveling with. She was meant to arrive at around 5pm.
I was to wait for her on the pretense that girls of the ‘light haired’ variety can have trouble on their own in some countries - Turkey being one of them - and having me there would keep her safe. To be honest it was probably as much for my benefit as for hers. While I’m fairly independent and not fazed at the idea of tackling a foreign city by myself, it was none the less my first time abroad. Sarah on the other hand has experience in the trials and tribulations of traveling & living away from home ... she was living in Edinburgh in Scottland at the time she came to Turkey.
Customs
But before I could hurry up and wait for Sarah to arrive, I had to pass through customs. After walking along a long wide marble hallway, I arrived at the check-in point and read the signs. It appeared that unlike most other countries, New Zealanders didn’t need a VISA. Australians had to pay $20 YTL for the privilege, while Canadians had to pay $60 YTL (what did the Canucks do to piss off the Turks I wonder?).
This customs guy for my line actually smiled and greeted each person and seemed pretty friendly. In fact, collectively these were the friendliest customs people I had seen in action. When I approached the cubicle I noticed they had webcam’s sitting on the bench inside. After checking my passport, the guy aimed the webcam at me, presumably taking my picture.
I noticed groups of airport police all with handguns in their holsters milling around the customs area. These guys looked like they were teenagers!
Dude, where’s my bag?
I came accross a change office and changed the 500 euro note I had obtained before leaving New Zealand into smaller denominations, then I headed for the luggage carousel. The carousel started and I began to wait patiently for my bag. After 10 minutes my mind began to wonder. I theorized that because my bag was transferred direct from the Amsterdam flight to the plane that went to Istanbul, it was probably packed first and therefore would be out near the end.
After a further 20 minutes all bags were gone and the carousel stopped. There were a couple of airport staff standing next to me, and at least one other person still seemingly waiting for a bag. I told the airport people my bag didn't arrive and they pointed me in the general direction of unclaimed baggage which was on the other side of the building. Upon arriving at unclaimed baggage, the guy with not-so-good-English directed me to the “lost” baggage office next door.
In the lost baggage office there were half a dozen young Turkish girls situated behind what looked to be a collapsible table. On top of the makeshift table sat a computer for each of the girls. I approached the first one and explained that one that my backpack didn’t arrive. She asked a few questions, checked with a couple of colleagues and gave me a form to fill in while she used her computer to check something.
I completed the form and handed it back along with my passport and boarding pass. After a couple more minutes at her computer she told me she’d found where the bag was. I politely asked where. “Manchester” she told me in a fairly matter of fact way. Really? I smiled. "Do you know when it would be in Istanbul?" She advised me the next KLM flight was 12am the following morning, and that they would deliver it to where I was staying in Sultanahmet.
I thanked her, and left with the smile on my face. My inaugural overseas travelling experience was off to a fantastic start! My bag was sent to the wrong place, but it would be back before it became a pain in the ass.. perfect!
Thursday, September 22, 2005
My first ever long-haul plane flight
I don’t remember all that much about the trip over. Probably partially due to fatigue, but also because the human mind is conditioned to block memories of discomfort and pain.
It all started out from Auckland airport at lunchtime on the 21st …
Hey, it’s not so bad…
The first leg was the ~9,000 km or about 11 hours 10 mins to Singapore. The plane was a newer Boeing 777 which has a footrest. At the time I didn’t really appreciate the footrest - I figured a footrest was a standard big-plane feature.
The ex-pat Dutch guy sitting next to me was returning to the Netherlands for the first time in a few years to visit a sick family member. He had a condition with his leg, so an hour into the flight he moved to a more spacious area up front. Once I had two seats to myself I managed to get a little sleep. God knows why I needed sleep, it would only have been 6 or 7 pm NZ time when I was snoozing.
Eventually we arrived at Singapore airport. I remember thinking the flight wasn’t SO bad and kind of wondering what all the fuss over long haul flights was about.
Singapore airport
An official met us inside the airport terminal and guided those of us going on the next leg on KLM to Amsterdam to the air train to take us to the correct terminal. Like many, I checked into the KLM flight headed to Amsterdam later that evening before having a look around the airport. They have free Internet at Singapore airport. They also have an outdoor swimming pool and several movie areas. It’s balmy outside, even at night.
After eating something, I went to the correct gate, set my phone alarm and tried to sleep for a while. First on the carpeted floor, but it was too hard. Then I lay awkwardly on a set of three seats next to the gate. I shut my eyes and managed to get an hour of what some might consider sleep. The alarm went off and next thing I know I’m on the KLM 747 headed to Amsterdam.
My impression of Singaporeans from my two or three brief encounters with people at the airport: they seem fairly friendly, but above all value efficiency and tidiness.
The middle seat
When checking in at Singapore, I made the BIG mistake of not asking for any particular type of seat.
I was on the left side, in the middle seat. The middle seat has no redeeming qualities. None. On the window you can use the plane wall as a headrest and get some sleep. On the isle you can get up and move around at will without disturbing anyone. After 3 hours of the middle seat, I was basically hoping the plane would crash and put me out of my misery. It was that bad. I actually recall thinking that if I could flick a switch and return home in an instant, I would probably flick it.
The disheartening part was that they have a map showing you where you are and how fast you’re going etc. It showed us flying over Istanbul on the way to Amsterdam!!!
I desperately wanted to sleep, but wasn’t physically able to… my head had nothing to rest on. When I actually fell asleep it was only a split second before my head start to fall, causing me to wake again. My legs (esp. hamstrings) were killing me from sitting down so long.
Somehow I managed to survive the ~13 hour marathon flight, and we touched down in Amsterdam a little before 6am on the 22nd.
Amsterdam airport
I had another 4 hour stop over until my 3+ hour flight to Istanbul. After fairly unsuccessfully attempting to figure out how the hell Amsterdam airport was laid out and where I needed to go for my flight, I checked in and got something to eat. It was a basic ham and cheese baguette thing, but tasted pretty good. I was kind of surprised to see people smoking inside at the airport, but it was a sign of things to come in Europe.
The final leg
Eventually the flight to Istanbul got underway. I was uncomfortable pretty much straight away, having been sitting on my ass for most of the past 36+ hours. But at a mere 3 hours 20 minutes, and with my excitement levels rising in anticpation of arriving at Istanbul, this flight was going to be a walk in the park.
I was stationed on the window seat, next to two guys in their early forties. One guy, lets call him 'Bob', was going to get on a domestic flight to somewhere else in Turkey. Bob was a snorer. One of those snorers that starts fairly quietly, then gets louder with each breath until eventually something happens which seems to cut off the airflow and cause the snorer to semi-choke then wake up. Ad nauseam.
The other, lets call him 'Franky', seemed friendly enough. He had tattoo’s and been to Istanbul before – fairly regularly it seemed (later when we touched down he gave Bob advice on how to go about getting on a domestic flight). I was observing Franky later in the flight when he pulled out some documents, apparently work related. It seemed to be material about safety in the workplace. He never got past the first page in the 30 mins he had the material out. I wondered what that was about at the time, but dismissed it. Looking back, maybe the documents were a front for his real activities? Who knows.
Touchdown in Istanbul
It had been 27.5 hours flying, and another 12 or so waiting in various airports by the time we touched down on the other side of the world at “Ataturk International Airport” in Istanbul.
Local time was 2:20pm on the 22nd of September, 2005. I would learn more about Ataturk later.
It all started out from Auckland airport at lunchtime on the 21st …
Hey, it’s not so bad…
The first leg was the ~9,000 km or about 11 hours 10 mins to Singapore. The plane was a newer Boeing 777 which has a footrest. At the time I didn’t really appreciate the footrest - I figured a footrest was a standard big-plane feature.
The ex-pat Dutch guy sitting next to me was returning to the Netherlands for the first time in a few years to visit a sick family member. He had a condition with his leg, so an hour into the flight he moved to a more spacious area up front. Once I had two seats to myself I managed to get a little sleep. God knows why I needed sleep, it would only have been 6 or 7 pm NZ time when I was snoozing.
Eventually we arrived at Singapore airport. I remember thinking the flight wasn’t SO bad and kind of wondering what all the fuss over long haul flights was about.
Singapore airport
An official met us inside the airport terminal and guided those of us going on the next leg on KLM to Amsterdam to the air train to take us to the correct terminal. Like many, I checked into the KLM flight headed to Amsterdam later that evening before having a look around the airport. They have free Internet at Singapore airport. They also have an outdoor swimming pool and several movie areas. It’s balmy outside, even at night.
After eating something, I went to the correct gate, set my phone alarm and tried to sleep for a while. First on the carpeted floor, but it was too hard. Then I lay awkwardly on a set of three seats next to the gate. I shut my eyes and managed to get an hour of what some might consider sleep. The alarm went off and next thing I know I’m on the KLM 747 headed to Amsterdam.
My impression of Singaporeans from my two or three brief encounters with people at the airport: they seem fairly friendly, but above all value efficiency and tidiness.
The middle seat
When checking in at Singapore, I made the BIG mistake of not asking for any particular type of seat.
I was on the left side, in the middle seat. The middle seat has no redeeming qualities. None. On the window you can use the plane wall as a headrest and get some sleep. On the isle you can get up and move around at will without disturbing anyone. After 3 hours of the middle seat, I was basically hoping the plane would crash and put me out of my misery. It was that bad. I actually recall thinking that if I could flick a switch and return home in an instant, I would probably flick it.
The disheartening part was that they have a map showing you where you are and how fast you’re going etc. It showed us flying over Istanbul on the way to Amsterdam!!!
I desperately wanted to sleep, but wasn’t physically able to… my head had nothing to rest on. When I actually fell asleep it was only a split second before my head start to fall, causing me to wake again. My legs (esp. hamstrings) were killing me from sitting down so long.
Somehow I managed to survive the ~13 hour marathon flight, and we touched down in Amsterdam a little before 6am on the 22nd.
Amsterdam airport
I had another 4 hour stop over until my 3+ hour flight to Istanbul. After fairly unsuccessfully attempting to figure out how the hell Amsterdam airport was laid out and where I needed to go for my flight, I checked in and got something to eat. It was a basic ham and cheese baguette thing, but tasted pretty good. I was kind of surprised to see people smoking inside at the airport, but it was a sign of things to come in Europe.
The final leg
Eventually the flight to Istanbul got underway. I was uncomfortable pretty much straight away, having been sitting on my ass for most of the past 36+ hours. But at a mere 3 hours 20 minutes, and with my excitement levels rising in anticpation of arriving at Istanbul, this flight was going to be a walk in the park.
I was stationed on the window seat, next to two guys in their early forties. One guy, lets call him 'Bob', was going to get on a domestic flight to somewhere else in Turkey. Bob was a snorer. One of those snorers that starts fairly quietly, then gets louder with each breath until eventually something happens which seems to cut off the airflow and cause the snorer to semi-choke then wake up. Ad nauseam.
The other, lets call him 'Franky', seemed friendly enough. He had tattoo’s and been to Istanbul before – fairly regularly it seemed (later when we touched down he gave Bob advice on how to go about getting on a domestic flight). I was observing Franky later in the flight when he pulled out some documents, apparently work related. It seemed to be material about safety in the workplace. He never got past the first page in the 30 mins he had the material out. I wondered what that was about at the time, but dismissed it. Looking back, maybe the documents were a front for his real activities? Who knows.
Touchdown in Istanbul
It had been 27.5 hours flying, and another 12 or so waiting in various airports by the time we touched down on the other side of the world at “Ataturk International Airport” in Istanbul.
Local time was 2:20pm on the 22nd of September, 2005. I would learn more about Ataturk later.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
My first OE
Hello! My name's Blair and I'm from the small town of Whakatane, on the east coast of the North Island in New Zealand.
In September 2005, I went 'overseas' for the first time in my life (I've been to Australia several times, but that doesn't really count). I was away for 5 weeks, 2.5 of them in Turkey and another two or so on a bus trip around some of the other major tourist destinations in Europe (London, Paris, Germany, etc).
I was meant to keep a travel diary, but didn't really find time during my travels. It's unfortunate because I found that with each passing day, I would forget things which had seemed noteworthy the previous day. This was especially true of the things I noticed which were different to 'back home'.. they just became normal and so were forgotten.
The differences in how people and things were, rather than the sights and buildings, was the most interesting part of travelling for me.
This blog is for me. It's mainly to ensure I don't forget some of the notable experiences and memories of my trip. If you're anything like me, you probably won't find it of much interest, unless perhaps you can relate to the experience or have similar travel in mind.
Feel free to email me -- stepped at gmail wth any comments.
In September 2005, I went 'overseas' for the first time in my life (I've been to Australia several times, but that doesn't really count). I was away for 5 weeks, 2.5 of them in Turkey and another two or so on a bus trip around some of the other major tourist destinations in Europe (London, Paris, Germany, etc).
I was meant to keep a travel diary, but didn't really find time during my travels. It's unfortunate because I found that with each passing day, I would forget things which had seemed noteworthy the previous day. This was especially true of the things I noticed which were different to 'back home'.. they just became normal and so were forgotten.
The differences in how people and things were, rather than the sights and buildings, was the most interesting part of travelling for me.
This blog is for me. It's mainly to ensure I don't forget some of the notable experiences and memories of my trip. If you're anything like me, you probably won't find it of much interest, unless perhaps you can relate to the experience or have similar travel in mind.
Feel free to email me -- stepped at gmail wth any comments.
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