December 2015 – robinchartier

Mistaken Vacation

This is our third time in Istanbul, and each visit reinforces why I love this country so much.

It is the perfect blend of East meets West, Europe flavored with the Middle East, and Muslim culture balanced by a secular government. Today was a sort of Homecoming as we went back to all of our favorite places and reunited with people who have become friends after repeat visits, though as things go here, we were treated as friends from the start.

Of all the places to visit in the city, my kids wanted to visit the Art Studio first. It doesn’t show up on any of the Top 10 Isranbul lists, but it’s a place that Mom found on our first trip in August 2012 and we’ve returned multiple times every time we’ve been in town.

The Art Studio is part of a school for the preservation of traditional Turkish art and our friend, who runs the store, is the one who does all the painting on oil. Even though it’s been two years he recognizes us when we walk in and is amazed by how much Camille has grown. He shows us pictures of his daughter, who wasn’t born yet when we last saw him and we catch up while the kids “paint.” (Swirl the paint around in the oil to make marbled designs that are then lifted onto paper.)

We browse through his newest works and admire his wife’s caligraphy (they are both artists) and see lots of things we’d love to take home. Before we leave he gives Camille a bracelet from “Uncle” and we arrange to come back in the afternoon to pick up the kids’ artwork. I have warm fuzzies already.

Next up is the Grand Bazaar, just because it’s huge and winding and expansive. I don’t think we’ve ever bought anything there, but the hundreds of shops are a must see as we wander through and see beautiful carpets, pottery, lamps and jewelry. All from a distance because if you show a liking for anything, the salesmen are on you like a hawk on prey. I hate shopping like that.

The architecture is as beautiful as the goods that are sold inside.

We left the souk and made our way through some back streets to find the Egyptian spice market — good thing Josh is our navigator. He seemed to know exactly where to go as we walked the streets where all the locals shop (the souk has everything at tourist prices).

If I had luggage I could have stocked up on beads, shiny thread and all sorts of other sewing items.

Josh led us right there. We do like to buy things at the Egyptian Spice Market. Specifically Turkish Delight and apple tea from a particular shop.

Josh catching up with his Egyptian friend

Camille downing her glass of apple tea. Before we left (loaded up with Turkish Delight), our friend scooped some extra treats into a bag for Camille, saying she could eat them herself or share them with her brothers. She took his instructions to heart later, saying, “He said to share if I want to!”

The New Mosque is actually from the 1600s. It’s just newer than the other ones!

We headed from the spice market up over the Galata bridge that spans the Golden Horn waterway. It was a gorgeous, warm, sunny day and all the fishermen were out catching anchovies.

We paused to watch a guy reel in a fish and he pulled one out of his bucket for Camille to hold. I’m always wowed by how much people here love little kids and how they go out of their way to make them happy.

Standing in Europe, looking across at Asia

After our walk we took the tram back up the hill toward our hotel.

The kids were hungry so we bought roasted corn, 50 cents each. Corn on the cob here is much different than corn in the US. When I eat corn in California, it tastes sweet and light, like a vegetable. In the Middle East (and in Turkey) corn tastes like a grain. It’s chewy and heavy and dense. It’s good, but not the same.

After dropping the kids off at the hotel Josh, Calvin, and I headed to a place I’ve been dreaming about since the last time we left Turkey. On our previous trip we bought 3 handwoven towels that are one of the best souvenirs I’ve bought on any of our trips. They are lush and soft and with 2 years of daily use, look the same as the day I bought them. They are so thick that I’ve used them as blankets and beautiful enough to be couch throws. And the first thought that popped into my head in the airport as we were running to our gate was, “Well, if we miss our flight, at least I get to go buy some more towels.”

This was one room of 3. I’m pretty sure I’m getting a preview of heaven.

I felt all the fabrics, picked out a few towels (I wanted them all) and then Josh and I both found spa-style robes. If we had been in town for another day they have a tailor on site that can take any woven towel from the shop and turn it into a robe, but then I would have taken even longer deciding on if or what to buy, so it’s probably a good thing that option wasn’t available to us.

Then we went home and I took a nap in my new robe that I didn’t think I needed and wasn’t going to buy, but have worn every possible minute since I got it so once again, Josh was right.

A late dinner, some Turkish tea and cards (and a book for me) and then we went to sleep for hopefully our last night in a hotel on this trip.

The Incredible Journey

The good news: we made it home. The bad part was all the bits leading up to that. I mean we enjoyed our time in Istanbul, but it wasn’t really needed at the end of a long trip and to do a day of travel and a two day delay without any luggage was a bit of an inconvenience.

I ended up washing socks and underwear in the sink each night (for those who cared about those details). It was basically civilized Survivor. We had some fun experiences over our two days that I can write about later, but since the power cord to my computer is in my luggage that still hasn’t made it to Bahrain (more about that later) I’m limited to typing on my phone, which I hate.

As we neared the end of our second day we were getting a little antsy about getting to the airport, joking around that we wanted to make sure not to miss our flight this time. We went ahead and took a cab at 4:45 for our 8:30 flight, figuring even though the airport was only 20 minutes away, it was better to wait at the airport than at the hotel.

Thank God we did, because an hour and a half later I was still stuck in the back seat of our cab with the 4 kids. Each of them getting on my nerves in a different way. Carter complaining that Meels is crushing his balls. Meels sprawled out across 3 laps, accusing people of farting. Calvin and Bob absorbed in their screens and not caring at all that we were making zero progress toward the airport. Josh was in the front seat, clenching his jaw and trying to stay calm by playing a game on his phone and I was having heart palpitations as the minutes ticked by and the miles didn’t.

It took 2 hours. I’m convinced my fervent prayers cleared the roads for the last few miles and allowed our driver to finally shift out of first gear. We ran into the airport with all our new carry on acquisitions — Turkish towels and artwork, we know how to shop when we’re down. Wearing 3 day old clothing, it felt like we were in the middle of our own remake of Vacation, with extra arguing, but minus the sexual innuendo.

In my frazzled state the only thing I wanted to do less than get on the plane at that moment was to not get on the plane.

We did a lot of this right up until we turned in our boarding passes — not getting caught this time!

We made it on the plane and sat back in our seats. I’d like to say I was able to relax, but I felt like I was caught in a series of unfortunate events and just needed to hurry up and get home to break the cycle. And as I was sitting there, looking out at the only rain showers we got on our entire trip, I spotted my suitcase being loaded onto our plane.

Hey! Our suitcases were in Istanbul the entire time? Oh well. At least we won’t have to spend time tracking them down at 2am when we land in Bahrain. But then, as the luggage moved up the conveyer belt, one of the airline employees scanned the tag on my bag and pulled it off to the side. Hmm, maybe he was loading the bigger luggage last … until I saw our orange suitcase head onto the plane and the same thing happened. Scanned and pulled aside. I got Josh to get ahold of an attendant to try and stop them, but the flight attendant reported back that the only luggage that was pulled was for a few passengers who didn’t show up for the flight. Nope, that was last time. Tonight we are sitting on the plane and those were our bags. But by that time I had seen all 5 suitcases pulled from the line and then hucked unceremoniously through the air into the back of the luggage truck where they tumbled until they banged into the back wall. Jerks. And then they sped off and we took off.

I’ll spare you the details of my tedious 3.5 hour flight which was comprised of a lot of restless squirming in my seat and whispered vows that if I could just get home, I would never leave again.

Sure enough, the missing bags were ours and supposedly they will be on tonight’s flight and will be delivered to us tomorrow, only 4 days later than expected. I’m thankful to have made it out when we did because Istanbul is getting snow today, more tomorrow, and Turkish Air has been cancelling flights all day. Thank God we aren’t facing further delays or I’d be having a serious breakdown in the Istanbul airport right now. Instead I’m wrapped up in my new Turkish robe, catching up on the Survivor finale, and eating Trader Joe’s chocolates from a care package from someone who loves me. All is well in my world.

Community Chest: Take a detour … in Istanbul

Otherwise known as Do not pass GO, do not collect $200

I’m putting this here so I can tell the story and then forget about it. I had just been thinking earlier in the day, as we made the long trek from Bavaria, by train, to Munich, that we are such cautious travelers that we’d rather give ourselves plenty of time and wait at the airport end rather than spend a little more time at the hotel and risk running into a late train or bus that might cause us to miss our flight.

So we did. We arrived 3 hours early for our Munich flight and had a 2 hour layover in Istanbul so no need to worry about making the connection this time. And yet, here we are in a hotel in Istanbul for the next 2 days.

The dumb airline (Turkish Air, who we used to love to fly, but no more after all the problems on our recent flights on this trip) posted the gate number about an hour before takeoff. We waited until the board flashed the message GO TO THE GATE next to the listing for our flight and then headed over. We waited in the gate area (where there are no signs) and sometime during those 20 min they changed the gate, but no one said anything. Not the gate agents, no announcement, nada.

They didn’t even make an announcement about the destination of the flight we were “boarding,” they just started collecting passes and it was only when we got to the front of the line that the gate agent saw our tickets and said, “oh, your gate changed,” (to one that was a 5 minute sprint away). We sprinted, but by then it was too late.

So then Turkish Air was unhelpful and said that it was our responsibility to check the sign again (really? When we are only 10 min from departure?) and charged us to rebook our flights (the No Show fee was the part that really irritated me) and … surprise! The flight is booked for tomorrow, but we can get you on the one 2 days from now.

After a few frantic calls to Josie to ask her to go back to our house to watch the pets (God bless her) and Josh’s work to extend leave we found ourselves in the Istanbul airport with the clothes on our back and no plans for the next 48 hours.

Everyone would have rather been on our way home, but we pulled some lira out of the ATM, found a taxi that would take us downtown (Egypt-style, all 5 of us in the back and Josh up front) and we had him drop us off in the part of Old Town that we know well from our previous trips and we went hunting for a place to stay.

I’m thankful to be writing this from a comfortable and warm bed, with 2 sleeping kids in this room and 2 others a floor below. I’m thankful we have an emergency fund that covered this big surprise and I’m happy we are stranded in a city that I know like the back of my hand.

Now to decide what to do over the next 2 days. And then hopefully, inshallah, we will get home.

Planes Trains and Autobuses

Traveling to Bavaria
3:30 this morning. An ungodly hour. Why are we doing this again? Because I love my kids and they want to go skiing this second week of vacation. So we have to get up and out of Budapest on the first flight so that we can get to Munich and then take the 2 hour train ride to southern Germany so that they can get fitted for their ski/snowboard equipment this afternoon to be ready to ski tomorrow morning. We made it from the cab to the plane to the train to the other train and now I’m falling asleep at 10am as our train winds through the countryside. And I’m going to have energy to get up and do snowsports tomorrow? Sleeping in, sitting by the fire, and reading a book all sound preferable at this moment.

We made it to Munich. Everyone looks wiped out.

The commuter train from the airport to downtown. Making themselves at home. Thankfully it is early on a Sunday morning and the train is almost empty.

We made it to Munich and transferred to the regional train to Garmisch. I’m so grateful that we first did this trip in the summer — all the transfers with extra luggage this trip were seamless.

It looks like fall here, not winter. It’s cold and the leaves are brown, but the grass is still green and there is no snow. And none in the forecast either. I guess we brought Bahrain weather to Germany — it’s projected to be 55 instead of 32.

We arrived in downtown Garmisch and wheeled all our luggage across the street to wait for the public bus. It’s only 11am, but since we’ve been on the road since 4am, it feels like a long day already. No since in taking a cab since the bus stops right outside the back gate of our hotel.

Because we haven’t traveled enough today, we arrived at the hotel, had them hold our luggage until check-in time and set out on foot for the 3k walk to the ski lodge to get fitted for our ski equipment.

We passed a Christmas tree lot — it seems that everyone here (and in Budapest) waits to buy their trees until the week before Christmas.

If we weren’t hoping for snow, this would be perfect weather.

We took care of all the details for our ski week and then walked home. The kids loved “skating” on all the puddles and stomping on them and trying to crack the ice.

Classic Bavarian house with a yard full of chickens.

The sun rises at 8am and sets at 4pm. It’s 3pm, but getting dark fast.

Night, night Bavaria!

skiing day 2

I haven’t been taking any photos because I’ve been busy in my own ski school, but tomorrow I’m going to try and get some photos of the kids skiing/snowboarding. I was going to attempt it while going up the tow lift, but between juggling gloves and being pulled up the mountain, I was afraid I’d either drop my phone, cross my skis and fall down, or somehow end up looking like an idiot.

It’s really fun to be skiing on the same hill that Calvin, Josh and Carter are snowboarding on and being able to see them improve over the course of the day and this afternoon Caleb “graduated” to our big hill so I got to watch him ski with his group too!

I snapped this one before we headed out for the day

This is called the “magic carpet” it’s an inclined moving walkway that you ride to the top of the kiddie hill — kind of like the long flat people movers in the airport.

Camille coming off the ramp at the end of the walkway

When we picked her up after school she was ready to show off again.

Even better than yesterday! She was proud she could weave through the “lollipops.”

trying to follow her down the hill — she’s fast! She was telling me that her legs get tired so she goes down the hill and then asks her teachers if she can take a break to play in the snow. After every run. Oh goodness.