I actually managed to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep somehow after hours of struggle. How long was I out? Two, maybe three hours? Why did I wake up? The pool of drool collecting on the hand tucked under my cheek was indication enough. Gross, I thought. My eyes still had no idea what they were looking at from their blurry, latitudinal purview. I could at least gather that I was looking out a window and it was sunrise. Glasses…please don’t be crushed. Glasses found under my stomach or ribs, status: not crushed. I sat up a little, jean jacket still tucked around my torso. Still looking out the window, I saw beyond the runways, a large mosque shining peach-orange in the hot, early sunrise. The call to prayer could be heard if I listened carefully.
I looked around. The passengers that were sleeping around me when I tucked myself in were still snoozing away, but with the regular morning hours upon us, more families with children occupied the vacant seats. Soon, I thought, there will be too much noise for sleep.
Unlucky for me, my flight from Seoul to Istanbul arrived early, extending my airport terminal prison sentence by an extra hour which meant I would be stuck in international purgatory from 4:00 A.M. until 2:00 P.M. The worst part was that I knew in my heart of hearts my flight to Athens would take off late. Such is the Mediterranean world. Asia, with all its comforts when it comes to customer convenience and service, was now behind me. I pulled out my phone and my mind and heart heaved in exasperation together, only a dismal 35 minutes had passed since I fell asleep.
Even at four in the morning, the Istanbul airport was bustling with people from every corner of the earth. Iran, France, Korea, Sudan, Russia, Saudi Arabia, India, Vietnam, the U.S., Yemen, Italy…I felt like I was in the center of the world. Protip: When you visit the center of the world, bring a book or Kindle because there’s no free WiFi.
The flight from Seoul was pleasant enough but I had not had a good night’s sleep in three days, which made laying down as soon as possible priority number one. First stop: the hotel airport. I knew it would be expensive, but it felt so seedy when they told me they charge by the hour, and infuriating to find out that for a two-hour nap I would have to shell out 115 euros. Plan B, I decided to see if a plebeian traveler could somehow pay her way into an airline lounge. Emirates, China Airlines, Qatar Airways, Air France, KLM—no one would take me. Overly made-up, thin women would barely even look at me as they shooed me from their desks. I could not have felt more like Oliver Twist unless I had an empty bowl and was covered in soot. I was desperate for some peace of mind, some privacy, honestly a clean bathroom would be nice enough (I would give a solid two out of five for the public restrooms in the airport). Not a chance. Finally, on my fourth lap around the airport, refusing to have Istanbul break me so quickly, I found a row of unoccupied benches, and taking a cue from the other single passengers, I sprawled myself out across five seats, used my purse as a pillow, my jean jacket as a blanket and passed out.
Little did I know, this was major foreshadowing for the adventures ahead.
The hours grinded by and I must have walked through every duty free shop, every cafe, and made at least 15 loops around the entire airport. The Turkish gift shop was amusing to me for a good 30 minutes. Every single item in that store could be found in Greece. The major difference? Language and whether or not the item was Halal. Again, major foreshadowing for the rest of the trip.
Finally, I found myself in front of my gate at 2:00 P.M., so done with the day. Ready to be in Greece; dying to see my sister after so long; longing to hug and kiss my giagia after so many years; dreading even another hour on a metal tube rocketing through the air. Luckily, the trip was hardly painful. I was seated next to a fellow American from Los Angeles who was on a solitary Mediterranean journey, who was reading the fourth book in the Game of Thrones series. “Hey, so, I’m a huge GoT fan and I want to read the books, but they are such a commitment. Do you think it’s worth it?” And so commence GoT geeking out until the Athens runway was in sight.
With the runway in sight, all conversation about Game of Thrones stopped. I couldn’t believe it: Greece, just below me! The airplane tires touched down and I felt myself actually shaking with excitement. I’m here. I’m back. I can’t believe it.
Photo credit: http://bit.ly/1YmvtJW