Lifespan of a Chennette

I have been back from Turkey since Tuesday night or so (didn’t get back to Guyana until Wednesday Thursday morning). When I set off on this trek, I knew I’d be blogging about it, despite it being a work trip. After all, I’d never been that far from the Caribbean and the idea of Turkey seemed so exotic and ancient in a way that my home countries are not. By the time I’d finished the first leg of my 4-flight trip to Antalya, Turkey, I was sure I had my first post locked in. I didn’t count on the Wordpress.com ban in Turkey, preventing me from expressing my frustration fresh off the press. Now that I am finally recovered from the jetlag and ensconced at home, comfortably doing my laundry (part of the recovery process) I can reminisce and blog. And I find, that, despite the almost 2 weeks that have passed, I am still mad at LIAT.

Travel trials. It was all I could think about - the 7 hour delay by LIAT before even leaving Guyana, almost making me miss my flight to London and setting me back by an entire day. I hate LIAT by the way. Not that I didn’t before, but this time… During the 7 hour wait in the airport, they kept promising that they’d have everything sorted with British Airways to ensure I didn’t miss the flight and I had no choice but to believe them, since by the time they told us that our wait would be significantly more than an hour, the only alternative to leave the country was already taking off. Good timing by LIAT I am sure. Of course, I didn’t entirely trust them, since when they first made the announcement of the long delay, they were dealing only with a group booking of 8 people who were scheduled to connect to Virgin Atlantic in Barbados. I had to keep pushing in and reminding them I was catching the earlier BA flight. Sigh.

Of course, we landed in Grantley Adams, and the LIAT personnel helpfully asked passengers to allow those connecting to Virgin and BMI to disembark. What?? Quick check with the groundstaff confirmed it. They had no instructions to expect and deal with me, or liaise with BA. After repeated questions, the guy checked his list and surprisingly I was on it as a passenger with a connection, but the group of 8 were highlighted so they were the ones to be given special delay treatment. The LIAT guy even told me at first, don’t worry, BA leaves later these days since it goes to Trinidad on a Saturday and turns around. This, despite the fact that the BA plane was on the ground and it was barely more than an hour before it was scheduled to leave Barbados. Did he think I was blind or stupid? It was only my insistence that got the LIAT agent to finally say, “well, if you don’t get on BA, we’ll have to get you onto Virgin.”

Well, I was left to do what I have done so many times in BGI - run with my luggage all the way over to the BA counter and breathlessly check in. Which they did, thankfully. Of course, it was less than an hour before departure, which usually means the flight is closed, so I asked if LIAT had pre-booked me. No. They had not. BA was still checking-in because other passengers were late and they had been notified. So instead of waiting 7 calm hours in BGI, I rushed straight from check-in to the plane, ever grateful for timing that had nothing to do with the region’s only island-hopper.

The BA flight was fine, other than the fact they keep the cabin entirely too warm, just because it’s winter. I can’t sleep in fake heat. On arrival into London Gatwick, I had to take the bus to Heathrow and then fly more than 3 hours to Istanbul. The BA flight was interesting and would have offered great views over the Alps etc if I wasn’t dozing. And because it was headed to Turkey, we got served some yoghurt with honey that was great - not the sugary concotions that I am used to as yoghurt, but something a bit more sour, but also richer. And honey, mmmm. Good sign for the food ahead.

In Istanbul that’s where it hit me just how different a country I was in. Flying overhead, the clusters of buildings, whether in squares or circles, or in more odd shapes, all seemed to have a strange kind of organisation. It’s hard to explain, the city is clearly not all straight lines and grids, but it seemed organised, particularly in those clusters within the city. Strange and pretty. The mosques were also very noticeable, with their spiky tall minarets and large domes. Lots of them. Yay - travel to a place where I didn’t have to be a pseudo-pesco-ovo-lacto-vegetarian (term coined by Lilandra). Also, I have mostly traveled to countries that speak English, or French, Spanish occasionally Dutch. And even in those places, there is always an abundance of English. In Istanbul, the airport signs were also in English, but the Turkish seemed so strange. I couldn’t even think of deciphering some of it, as I could with French and Spanish, even German and Dutch (to a lesser extent). And people weren’t as familiar with English, although that would be even more so in Antalya as I was to find out. But first, getting into Turkey.

T&T nationals don’t need visas for Turkey. Not even on arrival. I have no idea how or why this is so, but it is. (Some connection perhaps to the fact that we get Ülker products in T&T, including my ever favourite Ülker biskrem chocolate-hazelnut cream filled biscuits?) The immigration officers aren’t too clear on it either. As I watched Americans and others being sent back to get the visa on arrival, I wondered whether my information had been accurate. Even though, just coincidentally I had found out the day before that a Trini friend from high school had just come back from Turkey and he had confirmed the no-visa issue. But still, in a strange country where you know no-one, you worry. Well, I do. When it was my turn, the immigration officer studied my passport’s front cover. And then looked for Trinidad and Tobago on a long list on his wall. No luck. He looked again. Nada. He then opened up the passport and studied the photo and information, flipped through my Schengens, my US visa, UK student visa, various stamps…then back at the wall. This time at a much shorter list. Quick glance at me. Flip through again. Shrug of his shoulders, stamp on the passport, wave me through. All without a word. Not a single question or comment. I didn’t even know for how long I was permitted entry. Nevermind. I was in. (And Barbadian nationals can also get in without a visa, but not sure who else in the region, as even the US nationals need visas on arrival).

I made it safely through Attaturk Airport in Istanbul, and arrived in Antalya on the bumpiest, cloudiest, lightning filled short flight I have ever had (later found out there’d been a big storm in the Mediterranean). The taxi driver eventually found my hotel, where I had been expected, with barely 10 hours to sleep, and start my work day in the morning. And the adventure in what is also called Anatolia. My tales of Turkey aren’t necessarily incredibly exciting, but I’ll be blogging about them nonetheless, so be prepared. Or instead, go look at the pretty pictures! As a sampler, some of the things that stand out about my trip - the blue blue Mediterranean of the Turquoise Riviera, the mountains above Antalya, and the food.