Istanbul

This is the first in a series of my recent summer vacation to Europe. 

I am a foreigner and a minority, and it feels strange. The sights, the smells, the sounds, the tastes and the feeling of exhaustion are overwhelming me. Sitting on a row of connected chairs has not been comfortable, with the shifting of a person's weight jarring my reverie. Each time an individual stands up or sits down, the entire row shakes and reverberates.  The air is heavy with humidity, and the lack of ventilation makes the scent of male and female body odor especially strong, including the man with a scent who just sat down beside me. I may have to move soon, to purchase water (with what other funds than my debit/credit card) and to eventually charge my phone at one of the charging stations. This is not the Houston airport, with cushy leather seats and USB ports every other chair. 

The Istanbul international airport holding area for travelers heading to different countries is not sweet. Packed with smelly people, old dudes, babies and snobbish women, not excellent food choices, no carpet, and a bar that makes you order a drink if you are to stand and watch the soccer game on their flat screen TV. 

"What do you want to order?" a young man with a menu asked me after I stood there for not even a couple of minutes. "Excuse me?" I said, twice, after he repeated himself when I did not understand his Turkish accent the first time. When I said, "nothing," he shook his finger at me and said, "Then you cannot watch the game." I was not supremely interested in pursuing the game, but it hit me as impertinent. I looked incredulously at the others outside the bar, although not really feeling it (they were farther out from the bar than I), smiled and walked away. Anything to make a buck in Turkey. I just heard cheering from the bar area. 

Ah, I was misled, or rather, I misled you, the reader. The area I entered from the plane held only gates from 300-309, as I discovered after sitting there for two hours. When I looked on the digital information area to find at which gate I would be boarding, I was led upstairs, and a whole new world was opened to me. Gates numbered 100-500 displayed glittering shops and restaurants, Starbucks, bars and lovely, large, clean, sparkling, uncrowded bathrooms. What had I done? I found my gate, walked around a bit to make sure I was tired, and then stretched out on the padded (yes!) seats on a row to snooze for a bit, and set my alarm to wake me up in 15 minutes in case I fell asleep. Thank goodness I did that because sleep I did!  And when I groggily woke up and read my book for a few minutes, I decided to check the sign again to make sure that it was the correct departure gate, and no, it was not. I quickly checked the board and found that was in a completely different terminal. The time was 9:10, with departure scheduled for 9:45. I boogied my way across the airport, and at about halfway, 9:13, a sign said gates 222-230 were 3-9 minutes away. I made it to the gate, in time to rest for a couple minutes before lining up to board. I'm now awaiting take off. :-)

After  a three hour flight, I landed in Milan, about 15 minutes early. I expected to go to the curb and grab a taxi, but when I went there, I was told that I must go to another waiting area, where there were no taxis, and await one. I was told that that was the area of the "local" cabs that took travelers to nearby addresses. Since it was midnight by now, I waited only 15 minutes before panicking slightly, as the airport was emptying, and no one was in attendance at the information booths. I called Rachel, after a couple of texts, and she talked to the front desk at the hotel who called a taxi for me. Imagine my surprise when I asked the cost for the one mile, five minute drive, and the cabbie told me 25 Euros! Of course, I had not been wise and exchanged money before I left, so I told him that all I had in cash was $28, and he took it. 

It was wonderful to see my eldest daughter Rachel after her six week nannying stint in Switzerland, and despite the fact that I probably only slept about three hours on the overnight flight from Houston, I found it difficult to go to bed, and once there, to fall asleep. We had an early Sunday morning flight to Budapest, but the thrill of the long day/night and future travel kept my mind from shutting down completely.