Part 3 of 11.

1/2: Introduction

1. Singapore Airlines (SQ) First Class from JFK to Frankfurt (FRA), plus the Virgin Atlantic Clubhouse at JFK;

2. Arrival at FRA, Lufthansa Euro Business class FRA – Istanbul (IST);

3. Arrival in Istanbul, Turkish Airlines (TK) business class IST – Tashkent (TAS), plus, early morning arrival in Tashkent;

4. Day 1 in Tashkent;

5. Day 2 in Tashkent;

6. Day 3 in Tashkent, plus the lowdown on Tashkent’s metro system;

7. Turkish Airlines Business Class TAS – IST, IST – Berlin (TXL), plus TK lounge in IST;

8. Berlin, Day 1;

9. Berlin, Day 2;

10. TXL – Zurich (ZRH) – FRA in Swiss Air Euro Business class, plus arrival in FRA; and

11. Lufthansa First Class Terminal and Lufthansa First Class, FRA – JFK.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Our Airbus A321 descended smoothly towards the Turkish coast, cutting the haze and fog over the water, as we neared the airport. We lined up with runway over the sea, and finally passed over boxy, Spanish-tile roofed houses before touching down in Istanbul. We taxied quickly to the gate. I enjoyed seeing the variety of airplanes and airlines, including my first ever Russian-made airliner, in person. Unfortunately, I messed up the photo.

After deplaning, I bid good bye to my brief friend/seatmate, Mike, who was ending his journey in Istanbul. He headed for passport control, and I headed for the transfer desk to obtain my boarding pass for my connecting flight to Tashkent. I got my first introduction to Turkish Airlines (TK) groundstaff at the transfer desk. As soon as I approached the desk, using the business class line, despite having few people waiting for assistance, the employees seemed to somewhat mingle indifferently, and call people to the desk leisurely and slowly. At my turn, I told the agent that I was continuing onto Tashkent, and handed him my passport. After searching for what seemed like a few minutes, he raised his head, and asked, “You’re going today?” Uh, yes, I sure as hell am, and briefly narrowed my eyes in worry that my reservation somehow had been modified or moved to a different day. After a bit more searching, he managed to print my boarding pass. TK’s boarding passes are somewhat generic looking, as you will see in future segments of this trip report, and give no (at least that I could find) indication that you are a business class passenger, besides your seat number. I headed upstairs, into the vast terminal.

I immediately liked the Istanbul airport layout. Though crowded and hectic, the terminal building was airy and open, with plenty of natural light. I found the architecture quite beautiful, from ornate ceiling-work, to the mosaic patterns in the floor in the main area of the terminal, just after one crosses passport control and security.

I walked down the long terminal towards the TK lounge. On the way, I saw a currency exchange booth, and decided to try my look ferreting out some Uzbek Soum, considering I had no idea where to find them once in Uzbekistan (it’s truly an ATM-less country), and the man working the currency exchange at JFK, after he fell over laughing at my request for Uzbek currency, said I would be able to find them in Istanbul. I walked up to the window, and after waiting for a bit, finding time to finish a novel, knit a sweater, and pick a few horses at the racetrack, the woman working the desk finally made the effort to raise her head to look at me with an angry look on her face. After inquiring about Uzbek currency, she simply looked at me in disbelief, and said, “No. You cannot find.” Fantastic. I was going to be landing in Tashkent at 2.30am, without so much as a cent of the local currency on me.

After the currency exchange debacle, I entered the lounge, passing through a beautiful sliding glass door imprinted with the Turkish airlines logo. Beauty seemed to be a theme of the lounge – even with lounge attendants, who are relentlessly stunning, but, as one scanned my boarding pass for entry, again, are indifferent, cold, and somewhat rude (I was beginning to sense a them in Istanbul). The TK lounge was spectacularly appointed and decorated, with traditional Turkish furnishings, soft lighting, and beautiful light fixtures. I had never been in a prettier lounge. It’s an absolutely incredible space, three separate tables of snacks and drinks, plenty of seating, in armchairs, couches, or around tables with your fellow travelers. Near the main seating area, TK has installed a rock garden, surrounded by a wooden frame, with a few cactii. On one side of the lounge,  I found a masterfully decorated “Quiet Room,” (read: smoking room, until smoking was banned, just a week before my arrival). On the other side, they feature a great-hall caliber dining room table with computer terminals, and just beyond the table, bathrooms and showers. Even the bathrooms were sumptuous. Washing my hands under the swank brass fixtures made me feel like royalty. I’ll have more on the food selections from my return trip through Istanbul. As this time, I wasn’t hungry, and didn’t have much time before my departing flight to Tashkent, but, snapped a few pictures.

About half an hour before flight time to Tashkent, I left the lounge, and meandered towards the gate. This cute little guy bid me farewell.

Turkish Airlines 1370, IST – TAS
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Departure (Scheduled): 6.55pm, Istanbul Time
Arrival: (Scheduled): 2.30am (+1),  Tashkent Time
Departure (Actual): 7.50pm, Istanbul Time
Arrival: (Actual): 3.17am (+1),  Tashkent Time (All right! What a convenient hour of arrival!)
Equipment: Boeing 737-800
Seat: 2A

Here’s where any semblance of order began to break. I approached the gate, and noticed that despite all passengers coming from a secure area, all passengers had to undergo a full security screening, again, at the gate. I approached the one open line, and after standing around for a bit, waiting for the line to inch forward, security personnel decided to begin using another security line, which, lead to the same set of gates, but, they had been using for TK’s departure to Paris. I moved to the second line, which moved more quickly, but, whose officers were not very helpful. I asked one of the officers if I must remove liquids from my bag, and he responded with, “Yes, Tashkent.” Excellent. I removed them anyway, and after a rather painless security check, headed towards the gate, and joined the waiting passengers.

It was here I was introduced to the TK boarding process, which, is to say, one didn’t exist at all. I sat in the gate area, packed with a motley assortment of people, patiently waiting, as the printed boarding time came, and went. I noticed that passengers slowly began to queue in the front of the gate area, in anticipation of boarding actually beginning. No problem, I thought. A generally classy airline like TK must have business class boarding. I then began to notice a group of, well, as the airlines would euphemistically call them, “passengers-of-size” Uzbek women, each toting around 65 carryon bags, each, lumbering to the front of the line. They simply muscled their way to the front, and stood and the side of the already-formed line, and slowly attempted to push their way in. Each of their bags was some sort of shopping bag, jury-rigged shut with yards of packing tape. Hmm, I thought, as I observed the scene. It looks like a packed flight. Maybe I should line up, myself, if simply to make sure that I can find room in the overhead compartment for my rollerboard. I didn’t know it at the time, but, that consideration would be one my most prescient of the evening, and form the foundation of the ensuing turmoil and events once aboard.

I joined the queue, and, finally, about 30 minutes past scheduled boarding time, the groundstaff finally called boarding. That’s when the scene degraded into a frenzied scrum, strikingly similar to my time at the Uzbek consulate. The line collapsed into an amorphous mass, as passengers from every angle pushed to the front, and tried to enter the fray from the sides, like trucks trying to enter a traffic jammed highway. The lines moved slowly, with the TK agents meticulously checking each person’s passport for a visa. While standing in a line, I met a very nice, young, American woman, heading to Tashkent work work, who reassured me that I would indeed be able to find currency at any hotel in Tashkent. During our conversation, I glanced at the TK agents, who were speaking forcefully to some of the Uzbek women with the carryons, ostensibly, to tell them that they were most likely not going to be able to board the airplane with, literally, seven bags each. At my turn, they inspected my visa, and then, told me that I would have to check my rollerboard. Uh uh, lady. I was not parting from my bag, considering the chaos and disorganization that I witnessed at the boarding area. With that context, my bag would arrive in Cyprus, and never be seen again. I tried to plead with her, but she remained firm on the “six kilo maximum” limit. Finally, I played the entitlement card, proudly stating my business class seat assignment, and after conferring briefly with an agent, she relented. Entitlement: 1, TK Cabin Baggage Policy: 0.

Once aboard, I was greeted by a burly Turkish flight attendant, who looked like a bouncer at a bar. He greeted me with a surprisingly cheerful, “Welcome!” The other two FAs, an extremely attractive young woman, and an ultra-hip Turkish guy with a faux-hawk, were, surprise! Cold and indifferent! I immediately stowed my luggage, and took my seat. TK had outfitted this airplane in a typical Euro-business type configuration, with economy class seats, colored a smart pool-blue and black, throughout the airplane, but, with a blocked middle seat in business class. I would fly three 737-800s on TK, and each would have a different Business Class configuration. I found this one, truthfully, to be, by far, the most comfortable. I found a nice pillow, a blanket, and an amenity kit, a very nice touch on a four-hour flight, on the cupholder at my seat. There were also two Uzbek customs/entry forms, essentially poorly xeroxed pieces of paper, which, upon first glance, contained the most inconsistent and convoluted instructions for declaring articles I had ever seen. I thought the airplane provided two copies of the form for each passenger because you were likely to screw up filling one out the first time, but, it turns out, for some reason, you actually needed two identical forms. More on the forms later.

Boarding proceed in a crowded fashion, the FAs constantly scurrying through the cabin, trying to move baggage from one place to another, like a gigantic game of Tetris. I noticed that TK loves to use something I named, “The Curtain” at any time they can. The FAs seemed to have a programmed setting to open and close The Curtain between business class and the front of the airplane, as much as they could, even with passengers boarding. Officially TK business between groundstaff and FAs? Close the curtain. Moving a bag forward for gate checking? Whisk it closed. The pilots emerge from the flight deck, on the ground? Oh, you’d better believe that curtain is closed.

I chatted with an American guy sitting across the aisle from me, as we laughed at the ridiculousness of the customs form. Essentially, it seemed we were required to declare any item of value on our person, from computers, and cell phones, to guns, missiles, psychotropic guns, to “printed materials.” I wasn’t quite sure what “printed materials” meant. I know some countries, in their customs checks, look for pornography and any “subversive” or “counterrevolutionary” reading materials, but, would they really take issue with my chemistry and physics books I had in my bags? Moreover, on the forms, there existed all sorts of fun puzzles and details, such as having to put your passport number into a set of boxes that were not large enough to accommodate an entire American passport number, or, the unclear instructions of having to specify numbers of items, both with words, and with numerals. With my laptop, I had to write “1,” in one box, and “one” in another. Not wanting to be arrested at customs, I declared everything, including my physics book.

We continued to wait, at the gate, beyond our departure time. I began to worry, a bit, knowing our very early morning arrival time, not knowing, exactly where my hotel was situated in Tashkent. I hoped that the driver from the hotel wouldn’t leave the airport because of the delay. Soon, the reason for the delay became clear.

Oh. My. Goodness.

Let’s just say I’ve never had a flight delayed because someone on the airplane needed to be arrested. Think back to my comment on valuable carryon space, and then, think back to the group of rotund Uzbek women, trying to load a Costco-sized quantity of carryon luggage onto the airplane. Each person in the aforementioned group seemed to have some trouble with the gate agents with their vast quantities of hand baggage, but somehow, were allowed to board. Now, After all of the passengers are seated, and the flight has now been delayed for 20 minutes past departure time, we noticec TK staff moving back and forth through the aisles, each toting another bag, presumably belonging to this woman, for get checking. The flight continues to be delayed, and now, it seems as if trouble has mounted – the captain has emerged from the flight deck, the flight attendants are talking in hushed, clipped speech, and more and more TK groundstaff have boarded the airplane. Then, two policemen and a policewoman boarded the airplane, proceeded towards the back, pause, ostensibly to reason with the woman, then, in a burst of commotion and elevated screams, I saw a scrum form around the woman’s seat, as they try to pull her out. She fought hard, wrangling and twisting, forcing the police almost to dive into her seat to subdue her. Two policemen grab her arms, and one with a modified wrestling hold about her back, shuffle her off the airplane, with her caterwauling and struggling. Moving her off the airplane kind of looks like someone moving trying to move an armoir. A few passengers applauded.

As a perfect finish, the flight is delayed for 40 more minutes, as the cabin crew filled out incident and police reports, and as the TK groundstaff had to remove ten or so more carryon bags from her seat. Every ten minutes or so, we heard her screams of anger reverberate from the jetway onto the aircraft. She never reboarded the flight. The staff uses “The Curtain” frequently. Frankly, I’m scared out of my mind at this point, to even be on the airplane. I’m afraid that if I do one thing wrong, or one thing to upset the flight attendants, I’ll be arrested as well. And, after what I’ve heard about Turkish prisons, that thought, frankly scares the hell out of me.

Finally, close to an hour late, the FAs button up the airplane, we push back, taxi, and rocket into the Istanbul night. Thus far, TK seemed like a cold, scary airline. 90 percent of the PA announcements are made from recordings. The cabin crew rarely makes any announcements personally. After takeoff, FAs began the in-flight entertainment from drop-down screens, which, I only note because of TK’s sweet updated Airshow, which shows much more information and routing than the old Airshow application, and because I am impressed at how many advertisements they show on the monitors, from calls for investment in Turkey, jewelry shows, and their favorite, hazelnuts. TK seems to have an obsession with hazelnuts, which would become even more prominent on later flights. The captain, in heavily accented English, announced that we would arrive now, at 3.00am.

FAs made an initial beverage service, and distributed menus, and hot towels. I had a sparkling water, and remained overly polite, still scared out of my mind. Throughout the flight, though, the burly flight attendant was very nice to me, and even seemed to appreciate my presence. I must have endeared myself to him when he tropped a napkin, and I picked it up for him. Hey, I’ll do anything to avoid being arrested.

The menu, which, I reprint, verbatim, because of the hilarious translations from Turkish to English:

First, the title of the menu: “Who is in the kitchen today?”

And, the answer, from Turkish Do&Co (ha), TK’s catering company:

“TURKISH DO&CO IS AT WORK IN THE KITCHEN. . .

Welcome to our restaurant above the clouds

In order to entertain you with the best tastes of the world and our traditional specialization, our expert chefs prepared our carefully selected menus using only fresh ingredients.

We hope that tastes in your mouth will last beyond your journey.

Bon appetite”

[Priceless].

-Assorted Turkish Appetizers
-Stuffed eggplants [eggplants?] marinated in olive oil

-Poached sea bass with root vegetables, or
-Grilled lamb chops, couscous with vegetables/sauteed leaf spinach, or
-Home made wild mushroom ravioli, sun dried tomatoes/sauteed zucchini and eggplant/creamy tomato sauce/parmesan

-Assorted cheese

-Sweet curd souffle cake [ricotta cake]

-Ovenfresh bread selection
-Freshly brewed coffee or tea

Drink menu:

-Champagne
-Spirits: Blended Whisky, Bourbon Whisky, Gin Vodka, Raki [what the hell is Raki?]
-Wines: Selected Turkish and international wines
-Beers: Carlsberg/Efes Pilsen
-Juices: Orange, tomato, sourcherry
-Soft Drinks: Cola, Cola Light, Sprite, Ice Tea Lemon, Mineral Water

The FAs delivered the first tray, with all selections, minus the main course.

Holy freakin’ shite. Can these Turks cook. The meal was, without a doubt, and still is, the finest meal I have ever eaten on an airplane, better than the fare on Singapore Airlines, and better than Lufthansa. The Turkish appetizers of stuffed eggplant, sauteed onions, and grilled chicken were fresh and authentically flavorful, as in, not pumped with spices or artificially flavored sauces. I devoured three wonderfully fresh and crusty rolls, savoring the heaven that exploded in my mouth as I dipped each bite into the lemon olive oil. The main course lamb chops were broiled to perfection, nicely peppered, and bursting with bright lamb flavor (later, the lamb I would order in Lufthansa first class, would not even compare). I could have easily eaten another ten or twelve squares of the ricotta cake, for dessert. The cake was light, and airy, not clumpy, sticky, heavy, or gluey, the detriments that usually befall airlane cake. I had a wonderful glass of red wine with the meal, as well, that paired nicely with each item. And, again, folks, this meal was mostly pre-plated, on a tray, which, in the airline world, usually heralds a less than tasty meal. TK, I will remember the flavors in my mouth beyond the flight.

After the meal, and almost two days of traveling, I decided to have a nap for a couple of hours, or so, before arriving in Tashkent. I donned my airplane sleeping attire of eyeshades and oil-rig grade earplugs, and passed out, waking up during a very turbulent descent into Tashkent.

I’ve never landed in an airport at close to 3.30am before. It’s a somewhat eerie site – in almost total darkness, and no moving planes, except, for some reason, a Malaysia Air cargo 747-300. Upon landing, we taxied to a remote stand, parked, and most of us racked with anticipation of the famous customs experience ahead. We bussed to the terminal, and hurriedly entered, towards the sleepy customs area, which, I was happy to find, had officers waiting. I had read accounts of passengers arriving in the early morning, only to find no customs agents present. I chatted with the woman with whom I had spoken during boarding, who elucidated me on some of the rigamorale of the Uzbek customs process. Yes, I needed two identical copies of the form, one for entry, and one for my anticipated departure. Fantastic – I had to somehow know what possessions I would have, and how much money I would have on the day of departure. And, she said, on her third trip to Uzbekistan, customs seemed to have different standards of what they required declared, on the forms, at times requiring that one declared the value of a cell phone, and at other times. Overall, there seemed to exist absolutely no standards, no guide or framework, just what the customs officer wanted today. And, to cap it all, several people purchased their visas, right in the airport at 50% off the published prices. Perhaps, I could have potentially avoided the fun of the Uzbek consulate in New York City, and saved $60 dollars. The lines moved very slowly. Some non-Uzbek citizens moved over the the Uzbek Citizens line, to move more quickly through immigration, and, in accordance with the lack of formality or rules, even, were allowed to pass through expediently. After waiting forty minutes, the agent quickly stamped my passport. In customs, they scanned my bags in an x-ray, made some seemingly random circles on my customs form, stamped it, and waved me through.I exited, and thankfully, the driver from the hotel had stayed throughout the maddening delays and customs process, despite the time being close to 4am.

What an experience – both on the TK flight, with delays, arrests, and the chaos of the boarding process, and the fun of experiencing the Uzbek customs process. It certainly ranks as my craziest, even most surreal flight I have ever had. I’m certainly glad, at the horrendous hour of close to 4am, that mostly, the only annoyance of the process, was a lengthy wait.

I had arrived in Tashkent.