United Kingdom

Departure. Again an early start. We were booked on a 0635 flight to Istanbul which meant meeting the driver at 0430. Ouch.

Transit. Three flights today. Cappaocia to Istanbul, Istanbul to London and London to Lisbon. We were sure we wouldn’t want to see an airport for a while but as we were flying British Airways out of Turkey, my Qantas club membership provided access to the lounges. Not sure we would have survived without it. I probably drank 15 beers in the 20 or so hours in transit and Vicki consumed enough coffee to kill a small child.

Runaway. As we were heading up one of the numerous escalators at Istanbul airport, I noticed a young girl struggling with her luggage just as I did. A look of empathy lead to a question about departure. As it turned out she was on the same flight as us. She was a local but a little clueless about international travel. She then became part of our travel posse. We lead her in the right direction. Vicki got to chatting and found out that the girl was fleeing a pretty ugly domestic situation. She had a daughter and was married at 17. At 20 she’d had enough and was running away to London. Vicki spent a heap of time speaking to translators and airline attendants to help understand her situation. The cousin she had planned to meet in London no longer wanted a bar of her. Vicki wanted to at least get her in safe hands when we arrived in London but as we were to remain in the transit lounge we had no choice but to explain her situation to British airlines to provide a path to the Turkish consulate. We hope immigration didn’t send her home and wish her all the best.

Hari Hari. Vicki drew the short straw. After boarding the plane to London, we settled into the window and centre seats. Minutes later a large American man dressed in only a Pink Toga began walking up the isle. Sure enough, he placed his bag in the overhead compartment and sat down next to Vicki. I believe she may have muttered ‘fucking brilliant’ under her breath. A standard passenger to begin with but that didn’t last. He refused the aeroplane food and proceeded to bust out his lunchbox filled with smelly organic mush. We could handle that, good on him for treating his body as a temple! About an hour into the flight, he pulled out some reading material, turned to the appropriate page and began to chant. I’m not joking either. He chanted for at least an hour. I got him out of his seat by pretending to go to the toilet thinking the disruption would shut him the fuck up. It failed. Zen for one, annoying for some.

Turkey. We enjoyed our time in Turkey. The food was great and it is a country truly rich in history and natural beauty. It was hard work at times. The constant badgering and intricate lies we encountered left us with a slightly bitter aftertaste in our mouths. I guess they're just trying to make a buck but it does get to you after a while. The country had so much to offer and by no means did it overshadow the positives of visiting Turkey however we will now assess what Aiden and Engin tell us a little more closely as some of the lies we were told were amazingly believable.

Four hours of gorging in the Heathrow BA lounge like true Aussie Londoners, we made our way to the departure gate to catch our flight to Lisbon. I think Vic was a bit excited to hit Portugal. After spending almost two weeks in Muslim countries, her desire for a fat slab of piggie was becoming increasingly more difficult to suppress.