My Bulgarian Friend and other Tales from the Flight Over

Not in Kansas anymore!

While I had every intention of offering up a (riveting, I'm sure...) blow-by-blow account of my airline adventures to get to Ankara, I never had a layover during which I could actually sit down and post anything. So here's the hindsight, Reader's Digest version, and some more info about what's going down here in orientation land.

Some of you may know that my itinerary underwent a huge change when my connection flight from Asheville to Detroit was delayed by imminent weather issues. So I missed my Amsterdam flight by about half an hour. My ticket was changed, then, to route me through Paris via Air France. This excited me because je parle francais, but Charles De Gaulle (Paris airport) is actually really not France's finest offering, but more on that in a moment. Because I had this great highlight of my Detroit-->Paris flight that made everything worth it: Robert.

Robert is a Bulgarian from the Czech Republic who just began living in Detroit. (Yes, that is complicated. I like to refer to him as "my Bulgarian friend, Robert" as if Robert is his epithet. It works for him.) He's an electrical engineer who is very good at his job--I could tell, but I also made him admit it, eventually...he was modest, too. He's involved in producing electrical stuff for cars, and they're apparently working on technology that would provide a more efficient replacement for spark plugs...very interesting stuff. Anyway, Robert was sitting beside me (I was on the aisle of a middle section with four people) and he was asleep when the French flight attendant tossed the Air France headphones into his lap. So when he woke up, I tentatively handed them to him so he would know they were there, and somehow we began a conversation, and we basically interacted for the rest of the six-hour flight. We even watched Fast Five (I know, I would) at the same time! He ordered me wine and a cognac, told me about the HUGE BMW that he just bought for his wife (Robert is late thirtiesish and his wife is Czech and they have a two year-old who sounds adorable) and its (MANY) features, explained lots of things about trains (including Mag Lev trains, which use magnetic force and can go SUPER fast but also take a ton of energy and are very expensive...yes, I learned things, like a true Liberal Arts kid...), asked me lots of questions and answered lots of mine, and was generally just super nice. We sadly parted ways once we got to fair Paris, but his memory lives on in my heart. He convinced me that I must go to Prague, and that I must learn to ski. You got it, my Bulgarian friend.

Next leg of the journey: Charles De Gaulle.

First of all, the terminals are not connected. You take a bus EVERYWHERE...I took one to get off my plane, to change terminals, to get to my next plane...nuts. My Bulgarian friend, Robert, had warned me of this downside of Paris's major airport, lamenting that I had not had the opportunity to enjoy the simplicity and cleanliness of Amsterdam's. Well, once I got to the right terminal, I saw a line to my right, which was for "transfer" passengers. That sounded like me, and they hadn't printed a Paris boarding pass for me in Detroit, so I assumed that I belonged in this line. When my name appeared on a screen asking me to contact customer service, I was certain that this line was for me...as I saw no instructions for contacting this phantom "customer service" anywhere. Some lady helped me while I was still in line, said that I could get out of the line (twenty minutes wasted) because that wasn't my issue, and then I got in a long security line. Some group of thirteen year-old boys behind me kept invading my personal space and trying to cut me, so I put on my most Parisien face and purposefully plugged on. Used a little French (score) and eventually got through, then ran up to my gate...which was boarding. At this point I called my mom from the Mobal phone we got me before I left the States (pay-out-the-nose expensive per minute, but it works anywhere in the world and was absolutely worth its weight in gold to me yesterday), was informed that my Istanbul-->Ankara flight had been changed because I would miss my initial one (THANK YOU, MOM), and then I walked onto the plane. Sat beside an American guy married to a French woman who had never been to Turkey and on his other side was a Turkish girl who asked me why I would choose Trabzon over Istanbul. The guy asked her if Trabzon was a small town (people, it's not that small), and she said, yes, and that, if you liked that kind of thing (which she obviously did not), it was good for experiencing nature. Well, she might not have been pumped about that, but I sure am! Anyway, time stood still on that flight...barely any leg room, was boxed in by two people and I really had to pee, and the food was bizarre (according to my companions, neither French nor Turkish...unsure what it was!). No Bulgarian friends, but the American/French guy and the Turkish girl did make relatively good small talk. Overall, not my best airplane experience (we also had to wait on a plane from Cuba and took off 45 minutes late), but the Big Guy still worked things out. I did, eventually, get to pee. Thank goodness.

In Istanbul I had to claim my bags and book it to the domestic terminal.

At this point I was VERY tired and VERY sick of flying. I checked my bags; got a ticket to pay for my excess baggage; waited in the wrong line; took a number to wait in the right line; heard the last call for my flight; ran back to the counter for help; had my number ticket torn up dramatically; was escorted to the travel agent window by a Turkish Airlines employee all up in front of the line; met another ETA who was just trying to get on a flight to Ankara, period, since he'd been on the ill-fated Paris plane, as well; finally paid for my baggage; booked it behind the sprinting employee to the gate and presented my boarding pass; and finally boarded. Phew! Then, much to my delight, I was seated in the FIRST ROW bulkhead, with no one in the seat beside me (just cup holders!), and then served dinner on real china with real silverware with water in a real glass. I think I was seated in First Class on this smallish plane...DUDE! Also, fun fact: Wayne Rooney and other Man U players "helped" in the safety procedures video.

Overall, quite an enjoyable experience, as if to balance out the Paris stuff. Yay Turkish Airlines!

In Ankara I followed the wrong crowd to the international terminal and thought my bags had been lost...turns out they were waiting for me in the domestic terminal. Obviously I did not understand the instructions given in Turkish. By the end of this year, hopefully that will not be the case! It was late at night when I got in, so I got a cab by myself and paid a much more reasonable fare than I was anticipating, considering how far away the hotel was. Finally checked in (only poor Daniel, the other ETA from the Istanbul airport, arrived later than me), I met my roommate and fellow Trabzon grantee, Ali, who rocks, and then took a much-needed shower.

Yes, that was the Reader's Digest version. Perhaps I will save orientation details for tomorrow...yes, that sounds like a plan. It is dinner time over here, and yemek istiyorum ("I want to eat"). Until next time!