It’s because I went on a round the world adventure.
Hopped on a plane from Sydney to Zürich, to Istanbul to Antalya in Turkey.
Mum was waiting for me after a 32 hour flight and 4 planes later. Why does no one ever mention that buying a round the world trip means that instead of having the most direct flight, you kind of travel backwards and forwards until you get to your destination? Instead of a direct flight from Singapore to Istanbul, I got to see Switzerland! Maybe that’s why I was paying extra? At the end of the day though, I really did enjoy the scenic route. I’ll never buy another RTW ticket in my life ever again. Unless I’m doing shorter distances and more time in between plane rides.
Turkey was a lot different from what I remembered from my teens.
For one, there was a Starbucks at the airport so I got my coffee hit, albeit bad coffee hit and over priced for what it was…Maybe that made me more amenable? Who knows. Or possibly that I had flown for so long that I wasn’t taking any shit from anyone also helped. I also wanted a shower. Desperately.
Except when it came to customs. They made me pay 50 euro for a visa when I am a Turkish Citizen because I didn’t have my citizenship card on me. The other customs guy that I talked to after forking out a bucket-load of money was that the dude that gave me the bum steer could have looked me up on the computer. What an arsehole. At least I swore about him until I saw the Starbucks. Then I forgot about it all as I rushed to get caffeine into my system. Little did I know that it would taste like I was licking bathroom walls. Not that I know what bathroom walls taste like, but it’s what I imagine they taste like.
It’s a surreal feeling having flown half way around the world and landing in a land where many see your Australian passport and try to talk to you in broken English and then look rather shocked when you start talking back to them in fluent Turkish. However the more I travel the more I find that no matter where you go in the world, airports are all the same. They could be speaking Dutch, English, Korean, American or Turkish. People everywhere, check in check out & even customs. The carpets even match in a weird way. People pushing, shoving, connecting & avoiding your eyes. I’m a people watcher – especially when my 3DS has run out of battery and I need a break from reading my book. Istanbul’s airport felt like it was a total mishmash. Chaotic even. You fly through customs, then take a huge long walk from International terminal to domestic. At least it’s not like Heathrow where you have to take a bus to the other terminal. Or LAX. I guess I should count my blessings. It was a pleasant walk and one where I got to buy a SIM for my phone so that I could call my mama and check in to say I’m on time and on schedule.
But before I could figure out how to make the phone go, I was boarding my plane to Antalya. The land of endless Mediterranean beaches and warm weather. Considering I was missing winter for this, I prayed that it put on a good show because I bloody hate summer at the best of times. The oppressive heat and humidity are disgusting. And I can’t cuddle up to people in bed during summer. I’m a cuddler. I like koala’ing around someone to sleep. Summer negates this. And you sweat. Like actual sweat & stick together. I hate sweat. UGH.
By the time I landed in Antalya and got out of the airport and found my mama! YAY! My mama… who I’m really missing at the moment, believe it or not. I want to murder her when she’s here and miss her like crazy when she’s not. Figures.
For the first few days the weather was a balmy 30 degrees Celsius and I could go at will to the beach down the road and flob about. This pleased me greatly. I kinda like summer at 30 degrees. Then on day 3 the weather decided hell was winning and it needed to be hotter than hell itself. The temp soared between 45 degrees and 50 for the rest of the time I was in town. Fuck you summer. Just fuck you with a big rusty fork.
Note: It was hot. Very bloody hot. Super hot. To the point that leaving the house was just not done until well after 3 pm when the temp got to a point that you could leave the house without dying from heat stroke or blisters on your feet from heat coming off the ground and through ones shoes. Which meant that if I wanted to go to the beach, I had to be there really early in the morning, or quite late in the afternoon to be able to walk to the water without a hospital trip thanks to the pebble beaches along the Mediterranean coast. Or shop. Shopping was fabulous. Such cheap, many buy! But that’s another post altogether…