From the Journal – Leaving Istanbul

When leaving Istanbul the traffic can be notoriously unpredictable, so we began the packing routine a bit earlier than usual…

Let’s go!

Checklist complete, we lugged our gear up to Refik Saydam Street and hailed the first passing taxi… Hot, dry wind blew through the lowered windows as our driver smoked a cigarette with one hand and negotiated our way with the other. No seat belts, blaring middle-eastern electronica, seemed a fitting departure. A white-knuckle ride in a racing party-mobile, ancient Byzantine walls, and modern high rises rushing by…

A random stoplight, our driver turned and gestured… “Su?”, he motioned again: “Su?” We thankfully obliged, and he traded coins with a weathered street merchant for cold bottled waters.

Ataturk International Airport

In no time, we were curbside, before a terminal with clear English signage: Domestic Flights. But first, a negotiation of hand signals that we clearly lost. We paid the overpriced fare and entered the terminal with hopes for guidance.

Instead, we were funneled through a security check-point. No illegal contraband, we passed and were directed towards a corridor for international flights.

The Turkish Airlines terminal boasts at least a hundred check-in counters and very little English signage, so we guessed and fell into line.. One after another, frustrated travelers were turned away, redirected to this desk or that. But luck was on our side and we guessed correctly. Bags checked and boarding passes in hand, we made it through security, passport control, and found our gate unscathed.

Whoo! Time to relax with a beer.