Turkey > The flight to Ankara

It’s raining outside as I pack my bag. The weather feels more like autumn than spring. I’m packing for a trip of over two months. Looking at my belongings, I actually don’t have much more with me than I would for a three-week trip. I’ll just have to do laundry more often along the way. I arrive at Schiphol just before three in the afternoon, and the crowds are not as bad as I expected. The radio had reported that it would be an extremely busy weekend at the airport—the start of the May holiday.

Turkey -

I quickly check in my luggage and pass through customs. With a glass of wine in hand, I wait for the flight to depart. My vacation has begun. At the gate, I discover that the flight to Munich is delayed. On a 65-day trip, a small delay isn’t a big deal, but the connecting time in Munich is limited. With a half-hour delay, the plane finally takes off for Germany. By the time we land, part of the delay has already been made up—enough, at least, to make my connection. I rush to the new gate. The next plane is already waiting, but boarding proceeds so slowly that we again depart with a half-hour delay toward Ankara. Outside, darkness is falling. Just before midnight, the plane begins its descent over Ankara. I see the millions of lights of the Turkish capital. Shortly after, I am at the Turkish customs desk. For fifteen euros, I buy a visa for my passport. In the arrivals hall, I meet Luc, the tour leader for this trip, as well as the fellow travelers. One person is missing. When all passengers from the plane have arrived, there is no other conclusion than that he wasn’t on the flight. The ten of us drive to the hotel in Ankara. On the way, Luc gives an initial briefing about the trip. When I finally enter my hotel room at half past one in the morning, I am thoroughly exhausted from the flight. I quickly dive into bed.