Last day in Turkey

Tekirdag

Thursday, June 11.

When we finally ‘find’ our hotel, it does not impress us. But looks can be deceiving as we all know. The room is a good size and seemingly recently freshened up, with a chair and table for a laptop. The bathroom is of good quality (except for the detached loo seat), fully tiled. The internet is tolerably fast. We have had a comfortable night. We are not complaining even though the place is in a dubious but nevertheless very central location.

There is more of the hotel quality on the inside rather than outside.

But an early start is a must as I want to do some writing. Breakfast at 8am is in the well ordered dining room. It is of course buffet style and appears to offer a big selection. However, it looks more bountiful than it is. There are four types of olives laid out separately. With a boiled egg each and a few other typical Turkish morning items, it is adequate.

Manuel at the main entrance. It was not hard to miss!

Sure enough, we can attribute our way finding difficulties to the five day long annual cherry festival.

Tekirdag is no resort town but it does have some redeeming features.

The manager assures that it will only take 5 minutes to get the car. Soon after 10am his assistant Manuel (as in Faulty Towers) almost literally takes me by the hand and we retrace yesterday’s steps. He rattles on with animated chatter but I don’t understand even half a word. I hold my breath as we nudge through the narrow lanes on our way back to the hotel where I am instructed to just pull up in front of the hotel, even though I am pointing the wrong way in a single lane street. The Turks are pretty easy! Once loaded up, we are given final instructions of turns which I try to compute in my mental GPS.

I am trying hard to keep up with Manuel.

Our car is the one blocked right into the corner.

I recognise a few landmarks from last night as we join the main drag through the city. We soon pick up the Istanbul signs and away we go. Most of the way the road is pretty good with a few repair diversions. We manage to maintain good speed. The scenery is indifferent with short visual contact with the Sea of Marmara.

No regrets leaving Tekirdag. 

We have chosen to join the toll expressway even though we have not worked out which gate to exit. We have no idea whether we have paid or not but I recall the Europcar man assure me not to worry. As we get closer to Istanbul, our eyes are concentrated on picking up a plane icon on the road signs. None appear. There is, for us, an unprecedented amount of heavy trucks going in both directions. Many of them are bulk carriers of an unknown load. They are all going at speed. It is quite intimidating to be caught between and next to these monsters.

On the outskirts of Istanbul.

The heavy traffic starts to slow down as we approach the toll gates at the end of the expressway. Soon it comes to a halt. There are police and / or ambulance sirens. Perhaps there is an accident. Through the toll gates, there are about a dozen lanes. We have no idea in which lane we should be. But so it seems is also the dilemma with most of the other vehicles. Vehicles keep urging and attempting to cross two or three lanes. It is bedlam. The tall trucks block our view of any direction signs and we don’t know which lane we should be in except that any turnoffs would be to the right. We urge our way as far over as others and prudence will allow. I feel I need to ask someone whether we are going the right way. A nightmare flashes through my mind that we could be heading for one of the Bosphorus bridges to the other side and the domestic / other airport. I almost imagine I am seeing some of the landmarks we passed when we drove in the taxi for our flight to Nevshehir. We both, each from our side, ask for some directions from the other drivers. Yes, we are going in the right direction of the international airport. After about half an hour of all the jostling, one driver even signals to us that we should be well over to the right hand side. Just as well because we nearly miss the turn. Phew!!!

Surely getting closer.

Kerb to kerb, over multiple lanes, trucks merging and switching lanes.

At least we now know we are going towards the correct airport. The traffic is now flowing at a good speed. There is little chance to speculate or debate turns. Whatever we missed, we are suddenly driving towards the domestic arrivals. Hell! We must be able to get back on track as others could have made the same mistake. We ask a couple of people along the kerb who point us in the right direction. But we have to get rid of the car first. We need more directions. Without local language, it is not easy to explain that you are looking for where to return a Europcar rented vehicle. The gestured directions are not explicit but we are obliged to move further on. In a few minutes I pick up a ‘Rental car returns’ sign. At last! Even if it does not highlight our company, it is probably a large car park used for all companies – which turns out to be the case. We pick our way through the packed rental car parking yard and pull up in front of the green Europcar portable office. There are but three small problems. The office is locked and unattended. We are supposed to return the car with a full tank of fuel. Our rental contract ends at 1.30pm and it is getting close to 2. We will plead traffic / unattended office / ignorance if there are arguments. In any case, we had no chance of pulling off to fill the car in the last 30km’s or more.

We are impressed by the quality of the landscaping of the sides of major roads and expressways. It is irrigated and well maintained. All of Turkey is remarkably clean.

Our friend finally appear and unlocks the 'office'. I give him the car keys and the copy of the contract. He is very relaxed about everything. The car is obviously not pranged but pretty dirty from driving in the rain. Any small marks could not be seen. I ask him if everything is OK and he assures positively. What about any unpaid tolls, fines, speeding breaches? Perhaps they will catch up with us some time. In any case, they have our credit card number but, rightly or not, we have learned to trust the ordinary Turks. We unload our gear, double check all the small corners of the car and transfer our stuff to the nearby shuttle van. In a few minutes we are in front of the international departures. Too easy but not without a few gut tensing moments in the last hour or so.

It is now just after 2pm but the Lufthansa check-in does not open until 3. It gives us a few moments to collect ourselves and reflect. We would not have wanted to leave much later or we will have been tearing our hair. Lois is the first trough the check-in passport controller. I produce my Latvian passport. He asks me where is my Australian passport. I say that I entered Turkey on my EU document because I do not need a Turkish visa. No, no, just give me the Aussie one as well. OK then.

Istanbul Attaturk airport departing passenger passport control.

Our luggage gets checked through to Brisbane without any hassles even though my case is half a kilo over the allowance. Lois is 20.5kg. All good. Our stomachs tell us they need a bit of filling. Once through into the departure area, we spend some of our leftover tl on a chicken roll, a small cheesecake and two coffees, all quite acceptable.

We are well practiced international travellers but it is always a good feeling to be in the departure area.

The flight to Frakfurt is not full and leaves on time and is uneventful. There appear to be quite a few Turks returning to Germany which has a fair number of them.

Since our last visit to Frankfurt airport, it has grown. It seems enormous and better signed than we found it before. Getting to the new extended terminal is by a driverless shuttle train, much like Singapore. As our luck would have it, the departure gate is Z69, the very last station in the new wing!

Over Frankfurt.

Departing from Frankurt is very security confidence building. Not only is the system efficient from a processing point of view but is it thorough! Apart from the usual screenings etc, we have to empty our pockets completely, are given a full electronic body scan and then thoroughly frisked down. We even have to show the undersides of our shoes! Nobody is going to foil the Germans.

As an aside, today in Cairo is another session of the AJE ‘Marriott cell’ trial. We manage to get an internet connection on the ipad here at Frankfurt. It is another farce which is yet again adjourned. Among other hard to swallow pieces, the judge asked one of the defence lawyers giving his final address whether he will be longer than five minutes. When he replied with a yes, the session was called to an end until June 25.

Getting our plane ready for Honk Kong.

We are almost ready to board our Honk Kong bound Boeing 747. Better get the sleeping pills handy for an 11 hour flight.  

Good bye Frankfurt.

The high quality in flight simulation on the 747.

Our charming flight attendant.

In the air on the way home.

Friday, 12. June.

We are in the air, somewhere over mainland China, within about an hour of Honk Kong. It is a Lufthansa recently commissioned Boeing 747-8, the latest version of this long range quite enormous flying monster. The Premium Economy seats are all one would want for a long range flight. With the help of a few small pills and a couple of glasses of red, we have had about six hours of decent slumber. Many qualities of this plane are an obvious improvement on previous big passenger jets. Even the in-flight entertainment system as well as the screen resolution is finer. I have also brought in email via the in-flight wi-fi system.

It is a great flight. I have been marvelling at the building achievements of the ancients. Sitting in the 747 and gazing at the wing, I cannot help but conclude that one of the pinnacles of cleverness of our time surely must be the design and building of these giant flying machines. The wing is truly amazing. It flexes and literally flaps in the air as well as transforms its shape in flight, just like a bird. As a some time flyer, I cannot help being impressed by this magnificent piece of aero engineering.

The mighty wing in normal flight.

Deploying air brakes to loose some height quickly.

On landing, everything comes apart. Arrival in Honk Kong.

The amazing phenomenon of Honk Kong is best appreciated from the air. However, arriving at this man made island airport is an anticlimax compared to the old Kai Tak. Construction and expansion work is everywhere.

Honk Kong is to Cathay Pacific what Frankfurt is to Lufthansa. The Cathay rudder insignias are all over the tarmac. Although HK is still very security conscious, Frankfurt is still the tops. Here I am asked to partly unload my cabin backpack which gets sent through the scanner for the second time. I get the all clear. And how is it that we again are at the extreme end of one of the more recent terminal extensions. The gates go as far as 50 and we leave from 49. The airline hub airports – Dubai, Singapore, Frankfurt etc - have grown enormously in recent times. Honk Kong reminds me of a giant beehive of creatures flying in and out. There are even two control towers. I guess more people want to fly.

I wonder what it is like living so high and close to the airport. At least you have a good view of the runway.

We have another two hours to while away but regrettably my laptop battery is in the red zone. There are numerous recharging stations but I have the wrong power plug as well as no USB to USB connection. Another lesson in the rich experience of travelling.

Good bye Honk Kong.

We have seven hours of flying time ahead of us. After perhaps a movie and dinner, we might catch a few more hours of slumber. By blind picking, I watch a film called Mr Turner. It is indeed a story of the latter years of the great British painter William Turner whose work I admire. It is one of the best ‘period’ films I have seen for a long time. I don’t know how recent it is but I will not be surprised that it is nominated for an Oscar or other high award.

The meal we have chosen happens to be an excellently cooked fish dish as well as one of the more enjoyable ones in the air. Congratulations Cathay. Even after a few pills and a good charge of white wine, sleep however does not come no matter how hard we try. The first signs of daylight signals our approach to Cairns where we are to touch down just after 5am. We are obviously the first flight. We are barely within the modest terminal when the whole plane load is subjected to a security search like none we have experienced. Anything in our cabin luggage that could be remotely described as a liquid, cream or aerosol has to be laid out and security checked, even though we underwent a very thorough manual examination of each piece of our hand luggage before boarding the plane in Honk Kong. Lois looses a small jar of chilli jam we were given by our friendly hosts at Assos. It is considered to be in excess of 100mg. It is all very baffling.

There are always people of ill will towards others. As a result, the greatest beneficiaries of this are the enormous security industries. Those who merely threaten harm cannot stop laughing. The costs, delays and inconveniences of ‘security’ are inestimable. What does it say about human kind as we supposedly try to bring peace to the world?

As we kill some time and mill around in the departure lounge in Cairns, we are recognised. There are the usual commendations and genuine expression of relief that the big battle is behind us. The gentleman is determined and insistent that Peter should enter politics, at least the Senate, because he is doing such a brilliant job.

We reboard our Cathay Pacific Airbus 333 into the same seats. For the passengers, this must be one of the quietest jets in the skies. After three very long flights, it seems we are in Brisbane in no time at all. The formalities are all easy but I must be mindful to produce the passport with which I left.

Bribie Island to port. We must be getting close to home.

Not long to go now.

The familiar silhouette of Brisbane city.
WE ARE HOME!

We pick up a taxi not driven by a deeply tanned Indian, Pakistani or Srilankan. He happens to be a young man from Iran who arrived here by boat, and is one of the controversial profiteering victims of the vile people smugglers. The whole family is anti Iranian regime political activists, now all under threat and dispersed. He is here on a temporary visa, by himself and cannot go back. He is working hard to get his electrician qualifications confirmed here. We need more people like him. We wish him all the best and hope he succeeds on all fronts, as he deserves.

We are home after a most adventurous, colourful and memory filled 8 weeks. All seems well. By first impression, the plants don’t appear to have missed us all that much and even the bike tyres are still hard. Now to face the worst part of it all – unpacking and recovery. But we cannot budget too much time for the latter luxury as we already feel the heat of the publishing deadline. Our life is not dull.

So where have we been in Turkey?

Clockwise from Istanbul to Istanbul - a highly recommended route!