Hoşça kal Türkiye, Bonjour France!
The last Turkish call to prayer jolted us from our sleep this morning, the curdling yodel almost as jarring as the volume. Now that’s something I’m not going to miss about Türkiye.
After one last brekky with the tour group and some last group photos, we hugged and bid each other goodbye, shedding some tears and already planning a reunion for when we’re all home.
Today the group was going to visit the Hagia Sophia, a former Christian church, now mosque, in the centre of town. Our flight was leaving before theirs so sadly we had no time to join them. When their full bus pulled away from the kerb, our 6 person farewell committee lined the footpath, waving frantically. The windows were so tinted we could barely see a thing inside the bus but Amy later sent a photo to show they were all waving back and taking photos!
Last night Ross had teed up with the hotel reception, some transport to get us to the airport today. We would need a van to take all 6 of us and our oversized luggage. Checking in with the concierge this morning, he assured us that, ‘yes, your car will be here at 11pm sir’.
‘Um, don’t you mean 11AM?’ Ross double-checked. ‘Oh yes’, he assured us, he meant 11am. Here’s hoping.
By 11:20am, cars had come and gone - none of them ours. The lovely bell-boy, whose favourite tv show was ‘Wentworth’, and said he loved Australia because of the ‘kangaroo culture’, was busy making calls to ensure our transport was on the way.
‘2 minutes!’ he said with 2 fingers raised. We’d heard that before.
Sure enough, half an hour late, which seems par for the course in Türkiye, our car arrived. No ordinary car, this was like a limo inside with seats that faced each other, a twinkling ceiling of stars and all sorts of controls that Molly was itching to play with. Our driver, who didn’t utter a single word to us for the duration of the drive, did however, chat to his phone periodically leaving voice memos we think. He held his mobile up high, in front of his face while he drove, eyes fixed to its screen, glancing at the road very occasionally, with both hands mostly off the wheel. He casually gripped the steering wheel with one hand on the rare occasion he wasn’t texting. Yikes.
Our keen photographers and lovers of retro, Molly and Toby, have quite an affection for using film in their cameras. Unfortunately having film can prove an obstacle when it comes to airport security. Damaged by x-ray machines, the film needs to be out of their luggage beforehand and passed through without going under the scan. In most countries this has been no issue. Occasionally they swab the films and though it takes longer, it hasn’t been too big a deal. Today, it was a big deal. The security guy told Toby if he wanted to ho through, his films weren’t going with him and he could leave their airport if he wasn’t happy with that. ‘My airport. My rules.’
Toby, a man of principle, didn’t think this was fair, especially when he had successfully taken his films through many different customs. They were at loggerheads so the unhappy security guy called in the big gun, the head of airport security. We were all waiting at the other side, wondering why Toby was taking so long to get through, completely oblivious to what was going down. Ready to turf either Toby or his (& Molly’s) films out of the airport, Toby tried one more pitch. He told them he was more than happy for them to swab the films and then pleaded: ‘Please, show me some mercy’. Miraculously, they did. (Gee there would want to be some good shots on those films!)
Ross is chuffed that he’s mastered the Turkish word for ‘thank you’ and has been liberally sprinkling it in all his conversations. He made the most of our time in the airport, getting as many ‘teşekkürlers’ in as he possibly could before take-off.
Turkish Airlines have been great. Any airline that offers you a hot towel in economy is a winner in our books. They do all the announcements in Turkish and then open in English by saying: ‘Ladies, gentlemen and dear children ‘ (gets a chuckle from us every time.)
As we neared our destination of Lyon, we flew over the Alps, Mont Blanc rising up through the clouds looking snow-called and majestic. I wasn’t in a window seat but Molly had binoculars in her bag so I could see the mountains from where I was sitting. Perfect.
We are here briefly in France, to catch up with Maisy’s host family from her exchange 3 years ago and Astrid, her best friend from French school. We were also hoping to catch up with my friend Kim from French school but that has fallen through.
We touched down to a chilly 14 degrees and piled into our hire car, which is a huge van that Ross drove expertly on the right-hand side of the road, to our accommodation - an airbnb in Grenoble. Street parking was at a premium but Astrid met us at the door and suggested a good parking place up the road. She did mention it was a slightly wong-side-of-the-tracks area and to ‘be careful’. Hope all our hub caps are there when we go back and get the car tomorrow morning. Astrid also took us to her favourite pizza place, where Italian food met French cheese in beautiful synergy. Trés magnifique!
