7:00 - wake
8:00 - leave house
10:20 - flight to New York City - surprisingly smooth, yaaay
noon - arrive at JFK - During the flight I'd watched a movie with a short scene showing kids eating flimsy burgers. This scene had catapulted me into predator mode. Once in the airport, I began my rageful hunt for beef.
13:30 - human again, I sat at my gate and watched "learn to dance" clips on my Hairspray "special features" DVD. (Can't travel without it!) Although I considered it, I refrained from actually getting up and practicing the dance moves that "Frisk Woodlee" was teaching me. Maybe during my return trip layover... Being slightly sleep deprived, and engrossed by the dance move called "Peyton Place After Midnight"'s sexy hip thrusts, I failed to notice that I was sitting directly in the sun and thus getting quite sweaty in my wool pants and black sweater. Once I realized this, it become suddenly unbearable and I had to relocate.
15:00 - bathroom break - one of the downsides of traveling alone is that you have to bring your bags with you everywhere. I avoid checking my bag at all costs, so I always have an over-sided backpack and small roller suitcase with me. So, unless I find a handicap stall, I have to find a way to somehow push my bags into the stall, then squish myself in, which usually involves climbing over my bags while trying not to let my foot slip into the toilet because no one wants to travel with a wet foot. Especially one that is wet with toilet water. Then, once in, I have to somehow close the stall door, which of course is built to swing inwardly. I usually forget about this part until I'm already in and my bags are blocking the door, so I usually have to remove myself and the bags, and start all over again, this time using my spacial analysis skills to get me and my large items into this small place, while considering the swinging door this time. And the toilet water. Can't forget the toilet water. This is why I love handicap stalls. 1) They are big. 2) The door swings out. Not that it matters, because you have enough room for your whole family in there anyway... Today, the handicap stall was in use. Once the ordeal was over, hands washed and flustered, I hear "Ilse?" My face still in its grumpy position from my recent exertion, I turn and see an old friend from elementary school, Deborah. (Hi Deborah!) My face quickly readjusts. We chat for a few minutes, then go our separate ways. I routinely run into old friends in airports, which always reminds me that the world is small, and that the past people in my life are near.
16:50 - takeoff to Istanbul. this was the only time I slept during the whole flight. Takeoff also happens to be my favorite part of the flight. 20 minutes down, 9 hours and 30 minutes to go. It's not that I didn't get sleepy again, I just didn't feel like sleeping, and I got into movie-watching mode. By "movie-watching mode", I mean 17 Again watching mode. I don't know how many times I watched it. I guess no more than 5 times, since the flight was just under 10 hours, and the movie about 2. I did watch one of the in-flight movies too, so I guess no more than 4 times. Thomas Lennon is my hero, by the way. (As is another one of the actors, but most people already know about that. :P)
9:30 (Istanbul time, 2:30 Boston time) - The flight was alright, except for the fact that my legs got incredibly swollen. Went to buy my visa to enter the country, and noticed that the visa for most countries was either 15 or 20 US dollars. Except for Canada's. Theirs was 60. Does Turkey not like Canadians? I asked someone later, and he didn't know of any tension... Maybe they know that their regatta prices are inflated, and thus they overcharge them for visas to get back at them. Customs was the most lax customs I've ever been through. By this, I mean there essentially wasn't one. I walked by an empty counter with two men and a sign that read "Customs" above my head. I was unsure that I was in the right place, so I asked the men at the counter. They said to proceed. So I did. And I was in. My mom's flight arrived 3 hours after mine, so I still had to wait.
13:20 - We couldn't find our driver for an hour, so my mom tried to make some calls, but the people around us didn't speak much English. Eventually an older man helped us by offering to call the person my mother was trying to reach with his cellphone. Turkish people are very helpful. Turns out our "driver" was a friend of my mom's. We eventually found each other, and he took us to a fish market. I fell asleep during the 10 minute drive. We went into a small little restaurant by the Marmara Sea, and they brought us a huge basket of bread, a platter covered with small white fish called Barbun, and a plate of grape seed oil and pomegranate vinegar/syrup stuff that was delicious. I think in that moment I embodied the "hungry traveler". In a daze I slowly grabbed at the food in front of me and pushed it into my face. Bread, oil, salad, fish, water, more bread, more salad, more fish, fish, oh, and some lemon-lime soda please. Can you refill our bread basket? It was yuuuummy and the restaurant was quaint. A good welcome to the country. Gypsy girls came to our window selling tissues. They were cute, but to be ignored unless we wanted to continue to be bugged. It was raining outside, but it fit the scene. Then to the hotel. Half asleep, the super winding maze of narrow streets and aggressively driven cars felt somewhat like a trip down the rabbit hole in Alice and Wonderland.
17:00 - We eventually found the hotel and my bed immediately pulled me in. I was going to sleep. And then sleep some more, and then some more, before I tackled my first day in Istanbul.
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