adventure, Middle East, Türkiye

A quick jaunt to Istanbul… (part six)

Featured photo is of the Istanbul Airport area as we flew over it.

Finally, Friday morning arrived, and it was time to go back to Germany. Specifically, we were going to be flying to Frankfurt, which is about a twenty minute drive from our house. As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I was a little worried about traffic getting to the airport, so I encouraged Bill to check us out of the hotel by about 9:00 AM for our 12:45 flight. Although the traffic wasn’t that bad going to the airport, it turned out to be a good call to get to the airport early, especially since Istanbul is not in the European Union.

On our last morning, a harpist came in and played soothing music. It was very pleasant. She played beautifully, and chose selections that were decidedly less weird than Bossa Nova versions of “Like A Virgin” and “Beat It”.

After breakfast, we went back to room 1711, packed up our bags and went back down to the reception. Bill swiftly settled up, and we were lucky enough that a cabbie was already waiting out front for a new fare, so we didn’t even have to wait for a taxi. The taxi driver was the only one of the three we used in Istanbul who was willing to take Turkish Lira. Well… the other two probably would have, too, but they clearly preferred euros.

A couple of views of the huge airport below… Technically, it’s still in Istanbul, but a good distance away from downtown.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Istanbul’s airport is quite new and HUGE, located about 30 minutes away from our hotel in Maslak. It’s not even fully built yet, either. When you enter the building, you have to go through a metal detector and put your bags through a scanner. This is in addition to the usual security procedures that you go through when you have a boarding pass. I probably need to read up more on security issues in the Republic of Türkiye.

We got through the first layer of security, and then had to find our respective baggage drops. Because I was flying business, I had to go to a separate counter in a different area than the economy bag drop. I don’t know how Bill’s experience was, but mine was impressive. I had to ask someone where the business class drop was, and he said it was section “L”. I wonder if the “L” was for luxe… Bill’s drop was in section “B”, I think.

Anyway, the Turkish Airlines business class counter is in its own area that sort of has its own lounge before you even get to the business class lounge! I walked right up to a man who spoke English, noticing that there was no red carpet in the Istanbul Airport for business class passengers. 😉 The guy patiently waited a few minutes while I found my Turkish Airlines Miles and Smiles number. He entered the data for me, tagged my bag, and directed me to the business class lounge, which I opted not to use. Bill would not be able to go in there with me.

We made our way through the second layer of security, which involved the usual metal detector and putting our carry on stuff through an x-ray scanner. Then we walked through the first of many shopping venues. Istanbul Airport has a lot of really high end shops, but also plenty of places to get souvenirs and a bite to eat. I was impressed by the number of restaurants. They kind of put Frankfurt Airport to shame.

One thing I noticed in the airport, as well as in Istanbul in general, was a lack of seating in public areas. Because there weren’t many places to sit and we had some time before our flight, Bill and I decided to have something at an Italian cafe. I ended up having avocado toast on sourdough with two poached eggs, salad, and a big glass of orange juice. Bill had a latte. The lady who waited on us invited us to sit at a four top table, rather than the two top we’d originally chosen. I appreciated that very much! It was considerate of her to do that for us.

After we had our break at the Italian cafe, enough time had passed for us to make our way to the gate. But as we headed over there, we stopped at a store to pick up some Turkish Delight, magnets, and dried apricots for Bill’s daughter, son-in-law, and grandkids, and a couple of boxes of chocolate and a magnet for us.

While Bill was making his purchases, I was noticing some really interesting looking restaurants, a couple of which were U.S. based and not available in Germany! But there was also a place that had what appeared to have Anatolian cuisine. If we go back through Istanbul by plane, we’ll have to check it out.

After a lengthy and somewhat confusing walk to Gate 9 AB, Bill and I waited until it was time to board. This time, the plane was there on time, and boarding was relatively easy. I had chosen seat 5F, a change from my original choice of 2E. I wanted to sit by a window, and it looked like no one was sitting in seat 5E. Of course, it turned out that a married couple had taken the aisle seats in row 5. That was no big deal at all. There was so much room on the plane! I was, once again, simply amazed by it! Between my seat and the other seat was a large console. And, on this flight, we had entertainment monitors on the seat backs in front of us.

Unfortunately, the service on this flight was not as good as it was on the flight from Frankfurt to Istanbul. It was competent enough, I guess… but noticeably less warm and attentive. It’s probably best to write about this in a list form… and I might sound a bit difficult. But, keep in mind that we spent $1500 on my round trip short haul ticket. For that amount of money, I do expect good service, rather than just competent service. So, here’s my list of complaints.

  1. Pre-departure drinks

Once again, the flight attendant, a rather young and cocky looking male, came around with juices. He didn’t immediately offer the same selection of juices as the flight attendant did on the way to Istanbul. He did have all of the same juices available, but he didn’t initially offer all of them, nor did he identify them. And my orange juice didn’t have a slice of orange in it, as it did on the way down. It’s not a big deal at all, but I did notice it.

2. No Menus

On the flight to Istanbul, the flight attendants handed out printed menus that explained everything that was going to be offered with the in flight meals. There was a list of available drinks, and each meal choice was described, although not very thoroughly. I appreciate menu descriptions, because there are a few things I can’t eat. On this flight, I only saw a few people up front get menus.

3. No verbal description of the meal

When it came time to place my order, the same male flight attendant asked me if I wanted fish or beef, or one of the meals offered to the economy class, chicken or pasta. There were no descriptions. He didn’t even tell me what kind of fish was being offered. I did end up selecting the fish, while the people next to me both had the pasta, which I noticed they nicely plated for business class, rather than just giving them the plastic containers that the people in economy got.

The meal itself was okay. The starter was smoked salmon with some kind of slaw and a single shrimp on it. There was also cheese, eggplant salad, bread and butter, and a delicious chocolate eclair. The fish turned out to be some kind of dense fleshy variety– maybe swordfish or shark. It might have been sea bass. I honestly don’t know, because the flight attendant didn’t bother to tell me, or apologize for the lack of a menu. There’s a big difference between trout, salmon, and tuna, you know.

4. Bread service and wine

The same flight attendant brought around a bread basket with warm breads. He barely showed me what was in the basket and asked me to point to which roll I wanted. I tried to point to the one I preferred, but he just gave me a random one. It was pretty perfunctory and not impressive at all. He brought me some wine, but never bothered to ask if I wanted water or something else.

Again, not anything earth shatteringly bad, but it was noticeably poorer service than his colleagues on the other flight, who were obviously more interested in doing their jobs properly. And when I finished the wine, it took him a long time to come back and collect the empty glass. He picked it up when he brought out the bags of hazelnuts.

5. Attitude

That particular male flight attendant seemed pretty much over his job. He was outwardly a bit rude to me. When we were descending into Frankfurt, I was leaning forward in my seat and he demanded, “Madame, do you have your seat belt on?” I assured him I did, and instead of smiling, saying “thank you”, and being friendly, he just sort of smirked at me and almost rolled his eyes. By that point, I was getting pretty exasperated with his not too subtly concealed asshole behavior.

His colleague seemed much friendlier and more sympathetic, but she spent a long time assisting a gentleman a couple of rows in front of me. I wondered what her male colleague’s problem was. Was it me? Did I specifically do something to offend him? Or does he just want the perks of being a flight attendant, without actually doing his job properly?

Maybe he doesn’t like fat, middle-aged, American women traveling alone in business class. Perhaps I should have heeded Trump’s Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy’s advice to dress up for my flight. Or maybe he just isn’t generally suited to the service oriented jobs that require interacting with the public with kindness and consideration. I’ll bet he would never take it upon himself to pre-emptively clean and deodorize the lavatory for me after a windy fellow passenger had used it, though, as his colleague did for me on the way to Istanbul.

I busied myself taking more pictures of the clouds… I liked that the airline’s WiFi worked, as did the monitors showing our progress from Istanbul to Frankfurt.

Overall

I thought it was a good flight and I am impressed by Turkish Airlines. I would definitely fly them again, if the opportunity arises. Their business class product is mostly better than Lufthansa’s– at least when it comes to the actual seat and leg room. But that flight attendant who was looking after me was a bit of an asshole, in my opinion. I don’t think I did anything to warrant his snarky, inattentive, half-assed behavior. And at $1500 for a ticket, I do expect better service than what he delivered… even if it does make me sound like a high maintenance prima donna.

We landed in Frankfurt about 20 or 30 minutes early, so we had to wait about ten minutes before we could park the plane and disembark. Once we did that, I got off the plane as quickly as I could. I needed to find a loo. But first, I had to go through passport control. The young German police officer sitting in the booth asked me what I was doing in Germany. I said, “I live here. There’s a SOFA card at the back of my passport.” He quickly found the card and waved me through, but not before giving me a charming smile when I said “Dankeschön” to him. The cocky flight attendant could take a lesson from the passport control guy. 😉

I felt a little sorry for the guy who was on the other side of the booth. He was getting the third degree from passport control about his decision to enter the European Union. They were asking him about his profession and his citizenship status. Yikes!

It took some time to get our bags. Mine came out early, but Bill’s was not removed from the aircraft until near the end of the line. But then, he WAS in the cheap seats.

We got a taxi home, and I was soon left sitting there bewildered at our whirlwind trip to the Middle East. I’m now especially glad I went with Bill, even though we didn’t do as much as I had hoped we would. It turns out he has to leave again on Sunday. He’s got to fly to the United States and work there next week. I’ll be all alone, buying Christmas presents. I wish I’d had a chance to buy some art in Türkiye, but maybe another opportunity will arise and we can do some proper shopping. And maybe next time, Bill can join me in business class. I’ll bet that cocky twerp flight attendant would not have acted the way he did if Bill had been with me. 🤨

Anyway, so ends the “blow by blow” account of my quick trip to Istanbul. I’ll soon do my usual “ten things I learned” post to end this series. Stay tuned!

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art, Champagne Bucket trips

Live music, art, and another familiar face… part four of our Armenian adventure!

Sunday morning, we were still a bit jet lagged. We didn’t get up until about 9:00 AM (Armenian time). That’s unheard of for us, although it was 6:00 AM in Germany. After we got dressed and I put on some makeup, we went to the rooftop restaurant and sat outside again, mainly because the sun was very intense inside the restaurant. A tall, broad shouldered, European looking Armenian waiter was very attentively maintaining our table and seemed surprised when I asked him for “shakar” (sugar).

We had plans for Sunday evening. Stepan had bought tickets to see Mexican tenor, Rolando Villazón, and harpist, Xavier de Maistre. We would meet him and his wife, Lilit, that evening. To be honest, I wasn’t that sure about the concert. I had never heard of Rolando Villazón or Xavier de Maistre, and I’ve never been particularly excited about harp music. However, I am a music lover and a singer myself, and I know Armenians have great appreciation for the arts. I had a feeling it would be a good concert, and in the interest of wanting to do something new and unique, we agreed to attend. Stepan later told me he hadn’t been sure about the concert either, since he also wasn’t familiar with the musicians.

With our evening plans set, Bill and I decided to walk around a bit. We headed down Abovian Street, which is a major Yerevan location. In the 90s, it was the place one was most likely to find shopping or a decent cafe or two. I’ve always liked Abovian Street, as even in the 90s, it was tree lined and kind of elegant. In 2023, it’s still a hot spot, with a whole lot of restaurants and hotels, including The Alexander, which Stepan says is the best hotel in Yerevan. I see it’s owned by Marriott, and is considered “luxury”. Personally, my idea of luxury is less about posh looking properties and more about good service. But it did look like a very nice hotel when we passed it.

A little ways down Abovian Street, we ran into Northern Avenue, which is a street that didn’t exist in the 1990s. Stepan told me that there were some “shabby houses” that were demolished in order to create this very posh shopping district. My mouth dropped open as I took it in… Yerevan has come a long way since 1997, but this “walkplatz” is all new construction that definitely doesn’t match the many Soviet era buildings that are still in Yerevan. I noticed that there were quite a few new buildings constructed and little by little, they were replacing the ugly, cookie cutter Soviet buildings.

I did wonder about what happened to the people who had been living in the “shabby houses” off Sayat Nova Avenue. I also wondered how much it cost to live in one of the apartments on that avenue. No doubt Northern Avenue is an address for Yerevan’s wealthiest. But it’s also very handy, as that’s where we found a place to buy new SIM cards for our phones. It also makes it quicker and easier to get to the Opera House.

VIVA-MTS is a chain in Yerevan where you can get a new SIM card and pick up any accessories you might need for your phone or computer. I actually did need a new USB-C cable for my computer, but as soon as we walked into the store, we were summoned to sit near a young woman who set us up with new SIM cards. We just had to present a passport– one was enough. I should have bought a cable while I was in there, but it slipped my mind.

We walked out of the VIVA-MTS store and continued on to the Opera House. I showed Bill where I used to go when I attended rehearsals with the Opera Choir back in the 90s. That was a rather weird situation that developed when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer. My second Peace Corps Armenian teacher, Rousanna, had once been a ballet dancer at the Opera House, and she knew people there. She declared that I had singing talent.

In those days, I did sing opera songs a lot, because I had studied voice (for fun) in college and those were the types of songs we sang in our studio. Anyway, I met the conductor of the opera choir, whose name was Karen (in Armenia, it’s a man’s name). He said I could come to rehearsals and sing. So I did. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have let Rousanna introduce me to Karen, because I think it caused some problems with the school where I was working. It wasn’t really why I’d come to Armenia, either. Rousanna insisted, and I was genuinely interested… and at 23 years old, I wasn’t all that assertive.

On the other hand, it was a golden opportunity to get involved with the arts in Yerevan, and I did end up meeting some interesting and very talented people. I learned new music, too. Maybe with a little more engagement, I might have been able to help the opera choir with some grants. I did learn a couple of new operas, thanks to that experience. I can’t say I’m sorry I worked with the opera choir in Yerevan, although I am sorry for any issues it caused at my school. But then, I usually had to “wing it” at the school, anyway. Many times, I would show up expecting to teach one class, only to be sent to a different one. So maybe it didn’t matter that much, in the long run.

During that same visit in 1995, Rousanna and I also visited the then conductor of the Armenian Philharmonic, Loris Tjeknavorian. Mr. Tjeknavorian surprised me by knowing who I was. He even knew where I lived! Back then, there weren’t many Americans in Armenia, and I stood out with my blonde hair. He knew my name was Jenny, that I sang, and that I lived in the part of Yerevan called Zeytoun (although I didn’t live there for long).

Mr. Tjeknavorian is apparently still living; he’s 86 years old and now retired from the Philharmonic. In retrospect, he might have heard about me because I was in the AUA Choir during training, and that choir had an honest to god maestro. But there wasn’t enough money for sheet music, so we were singing Christmas carols in July! We also did a few Armenian nationalist songs, and a folk song named “Im Chi Nare Yare.” I was supposed to do the solo for that song. The Philharmonic conductor might have also heard of me because of the accompanist for the AUA Choir, Anahit, who was one of the very best pianists I’ve ever met… and I’ve met quite a few. She was a graduate of the Yerevan Conservatory, and she even got me hooked up with a Russian voice teacher there, who later introduced me to her Armenian protege. Who knows? Anyway, it was an interesting experience at the time, meeting and working with real, professional musicians in Yerevan.

Today, next to the Opera House, there are a few cafes and other amusements. As we were passing, we noticed little kids driving toy cars around the grounds. There was also an electronic game with a punching bag. A couple of young lads were amusing their friends by seeing how hard they could punch. They were trying to beat the record. Although the young man who threw the punch was impressive, he fell far short of the record. I guess that’s one way to keep people pumping in drams. They pay for another chance, even though they’ll probably just hurt their hand and fall short of the goal. It was fun to watch the guy’s friends cheering him on, though. He was one of a few young guys we saw punching that bag as we passed the Opera House over the course of the week we were there.

We crossed Mashtots Avenue. On the other side of the street, there’s a tree lined park where people sell art. When I lived in Yerevan, they only did it on the weekends, but now they do it every day. I wanted to see what was available, because I wanted to buy new paintings for our house. I never had the money to buy art in Armenia when I lived there. It’s also a cool place to visit, because you’re sure to see old guys sitting around playing chess or nardi (backgammon), drinking coffee, smoking, and holding court. That was as true in 2023 as it ever was in the 90s.

There was some stuff there that was either not my taste or kind of “cheesy”. Some people had signs up requesting no photos to be taken. The funny thing is, the artists who made that request were selling art that I wouldn’t have been interested in, anyway. One guy had what looked like black velvet art, which I’ve just learned actually originated in Kashmir and usually depicted religious icons from the Caucasus region. I’m sure there are some beautiful black velvet creations, but whenever I see them, I just think of Elvis Presley.

Toward the end of our stroll through the park, I spotted some art that made me pause. The artist cautiously approached. I didn’t want to start talking to him until I’d seen everything, so we walked away. But a few minutes later, we came back and struck up a conversation. The man said he is a printer who lives in Ashtarak, a village northwest of Yerevan. I knew some Volunteers served there, and had visited there myself. I could picture where he lived.

When he asked me why I could speak Armenian, I told him about how I’d lived in Yerevan 26 years ago and taught English to kids in an Armenian school. I apologized for not being able to remember a lot of the language, but we were able to carry on a conversation. He told me his son lives in Switzerland as I admired two similar paintings he was selling. One was a church in Gyumri, Armenia’s second largest city in the northwest, and the other was a landscape of Yeghegnadzor, which is a city to the south of Yerevan. We decided to buy both paintings, which really excited the guy. He offered individual prices, but came down when we offered to buy both. I could tell he wanted me to haggle, but I hate haggling. So he kind of haggled for me, and we ended up settling on a price of about 110,000 AMD for the two paintings… Maybe an Armenian would have paid less, but I know a lot of work went into that art. And the conversation was also worth something.

Bill went to get some drams from an ATM, and I stayed and talked to the guy some more. He had a beautiful painting of Mount Ararat that was very unique. I wish I’d bought it, because I later decided I wanted a painting of the famous mountain, but most of the ones I saw were kind of representative of “bad art”, or there was nothing interesting or unique about them. Unfortunately, we didn’t run into the guy again before we left. But we did buy two very nice paintings from him, which he put in a rather well used plastic bag. This really distressed Bill, who spent the rest of the week worrying about how we were going to get the paintings home to Germany. More on that, later.

After we bought our paintings, we headed back to the hotel to drop them off. We walked down Mashtots, and I showed Bill some places of interest. Mashtots is one of the most important avenues in Yerevan. Back in the Soviet era, it was known as Lenin Avenue. At one end, the Matenadaran stands– it’s a museum full of some of the oldest books in the world. At the other end is the overlook to the Hrazdan Gorge. It’s where you’ll find the entrance to the Blue Mosque, the one mosque in Yerevan, and what used to be the Pak Shuka and is now, sadly, a supermarket.

After we dropped off the art, we took another walk, and I took more photos…

After all the walking, we were a bit hungry. I was a little unsure about my restaurant skills, though. I speak decent restaurant German, but I never had the ability to do the same in Armenia. We went to a place very close to our hotel, Кавказская пленница (Caucasian Captive– apparently named after a 1967 Russian film). It was a nice place that offered a lot of different options. It was also a bit campy in its decor…

Our waitress, name of Arev (sun), was surprised by my Armenian skills. Then she offered us “Khash”, to which I blurted out was “disgusting” and I didn’t like it. Amot indz (shame on me). Khash, for your information, is a very garlicky soup that is made with boiled cow or sheep parts, including the head, hooves, and stomach. It was a food historically made by poor people, who used all of the least desirable parts of an animal to make themselves a nutritious meal. I did try it once, when I was in training, even though it’s something that is usually only served during the “ber” months. Most people eat it in the morning with a lot of lavash and vodka. It’s supposedly a good hangover cure.

I ended up having chicken and fried potatoes that were absolutely delicious. Bill had some kind of stew that he loved. I don’t remember what he had… but he’s a more adventurous diner than I am.

After we ate, we went back to the hotel for a rest. We had plans to meet Stepan and Lilit at about 7:00 PM. We had purchased a couple of gifts for them, both because they were so kindly hosting us, and because it was Stepan’s birthday on the 15th. I said I thought it would be good to give them the gifts at the concert. Bill, being the consummate overthinker, worried that we wouldn’t be allowed into the concert hall with them, because they were wrapped. I had to laugh at that… He’d forgotten that the night previous, we had just walked into the school where I used to teach. I said, “Stop overthinking this. It’ll be fine.”

So we walked to the Opera House and met Stepan, then enjoyed the concert put on by Mr. Villazón and Mr. de Maistre. I found out that Rolando Villazón is my age. He was very entertaining, and I have a feeling that if we’d known each other as kids, we would have traded fart jokes. He and his wife now live in France, and my friend Susanne says he speaks excellent German and is often on German talk shows. She was impressed that we got tickets to the concert. Stepan, of course, was greeting his many friends. I swear, he knows so many people in Yerevan! More on that, later. Below are some photos…

And a video…

A short video from the concert. They got a bunch of encores! People kept trying to leave, and they came back for “just one more”. It was hilarious!

We had a wonderful time at the concert, and being exposed to the talented musicians would have made the evening special enough. But something else happened that really made our night forever memorable. During intermission, Stepan went outside to smoke a cigarette. While he was out there, he ran into his classmate and another of my former students, Sima. He told her she needed to come inside to meet someone.

Sima blurted out, “Is it Jenny?”

Stepan said yes, I was indeed in the house. Sima said she’d actually recognized me outside, but was sure it couldn’t be me, back in Yerevan after so many years. She didn’t approach me. That was probably a good thing, since I would not have recognized her. The last time I saw Sima, she was about fifteen or sixteen years old, and she had long, brown hair. She was very glamorous, and reminded me a little of a young version of the actress, Fran Drescher, who was very popular in the 90s.

Since then, Sima has cut her hair into a very short, spiky haircut, and it’s now jet black. Sima is still very beautiful and glamorous, but she looks quite different now than how I remembered her. However, she’s still very tiny, and I felt like a mama bear when I gave her a hug. I was so moved that she not only remembered me, but actually recognized me, after so many years. I seriously wanted to cry! It was more validation that my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer wasn’t a waste of time. I was finding out that what I did meant something to people besides myself. It wasn’t unlike seeing the end results of planting a seed and coming back years later to find a fruit bearing tree in its place.

After the concert, Stepan, Lilit, Bill and I went outside. We were trying to decide what to do next. Lilit wasn’t feeling well, but Stepan was still trying and succeeding in being an excellent host to us. I decided to make politely parting easy by asking Bill if he was tired. Bill, trying to be a good guest, said he was “okay”. And I said, “Do you mean it, or are you just being NICE?” Then I turned and smiled at Stepan, who laughed. He asked if I minded if he opened the gifts at home, so his kids could watch. I was fine with that, and we parted ways… after I, once again, expressed shock at all the lights on in Yerevan!

Below are a few photos from our walk back to the hotel…

Sunday was a full day, and we were tired… so after our concert, we decided to enjoy some wine, watch a little TV, and go to bed. However, there was a lot of noise outside from traffic and a nearby nightclub, so actually falling asleep was an entirely different matter. More on that in a later post. 😉

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