Saturday, June 11, 2022
We woke up bright and early at 6:30 AM, packing for our return. When we were set to go, we headed outside and found a taxi that could take us to Charles de Gaulle Airport. The driver, who was the nicest Parisian I’ve ever met, was quite friendly, talkative, and well versed in politics, even American politics. He spoke of his distrust for Emmanuel Macron, the French president, and I explained many things I’ve observed while in Paris, all of which he concurred with. Sadly, just as in America, Macron gets the majority of his votes from minorities in the big cities, such as Paris, so to fix the problems would mean the loss of votes, which the politicians, especially liberal ones, will never succumb to. He even predicted that by the end of Macron’s second term, he will have changed the French constitution so that he can hold more than two terms, similar to Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping.
Upon arrival at the airport, we stepped into the Turkish Airlines queue to see if we could check into our flight. When we got to the front, we found out that we could indeed check-in, but no promises were made that we would be able to leave the airport once we arrived in Istanbul.
Soon, however, we ran into a different problem. The Turkish Airlines employee noticed that Brooke was pregnant and asked how far along she was. Brooke told her 28 weeks. A concerned look came across her face, and she quickly went to grab her supervisor. Within a minute, three Turkish Airlines employees surrounded us, and the head honcho asked us if Brooke was 28 weeks pregnant. I quickly realized there must be an airline policy forbidding women 28 weeks pregnant or more from flying on their aircraft and said, “Almost 28 weeks, but not yet.” He jabbered in French with his colleagues and disappeared. He returned with paperwork that Brooke had to sign, saying she was not 28 weeks pregnant but 27 weeks pregnant. They even snapped a picture of her Passport.
Once she signed the necessary documents, the lady told me our bags were too heavy. I quickly had to rearrange all five of our bags and consolidate. While doing that, I had to take out my drone and 12-terabyte hard drive that I use to store all of my photos and videos. When we finished that ordeal, we hustled to security. Noticing that Brooke was pregnant again, a security guard allowed Brooke and me to skip the line, but not my parents. When we made it through security, my heart began to race when I couldn’t find my 12-terabyte hard drive containing all of the photos and videos from our trip. Fearing I lost it before security, I texted my mom, who was still in line, begging her to return and get my hard drive. She texted me back in a panic, saying that Dad had been detained.
I cannot put into words the myriad of emotions I was feeling at that moment. Brooke and I were stressing about how we were now 27 weeks pregnant, I was nearly in tears because I couldn’t find my hard drive, and the French Police supposedly detained my dad.
Twenty minutes later, my parents emerged from the security checkpoint, and my dad was holding my hard drive. As it turned out, while I was rearranging our luggage so that it weighed the correct amount, my dad took my hard drive, so it was safe. As for my dad, his Passport wouldn’t scan in the security checkpoint machine, and the Police took him to review it manually without telling my mom what they were doing. Needless to say, we were bursting with excitement to depart the worst country on Earth.
The three-hour Turkish Airlines flight wasn’t too shabby. I especially liked the ready-to-go Qur’an alongside my chicken and rice.
Any stress and anguish I felt were suddenly reprieved as I stepped foot into Istanbul Airport. The airport was absolutely magnificent. As we stepped into the terminal, a bright, vast expanse filled our gaze, and the smell of cleanliness infused our nostrils. An airport worker, noticing Brooke was pregnant, drove the four of us a mile across the terminal to Passport control.
Right next to Passport control was where we had to purchase the Visas to enter Turkey. Once the visas were stickered into our Passports, we headed through Passport control and had the Passports stamped. We were officially in Turkey. Phew.
When we entered the “Arrivals” section, dozens of travel agents beckoned us to visit their stands. We ended up booking a 6-hour tour of Istanbul for $280. The tour included round-trip transportation in a Mercedes Sprinter Van, a hotel room for four, and an English-speaking tour guide to direct us around Istanbul.
Before heading to our hotel, we had to get Covid tested once more to be granted access to the United States. Once we had finished that, we were on our way to our hotel, the Acar Airport Hotel Plus.
The drive to the hotel was around fifteen minutes. During that fifteen minutes, we were quite surprised to see a few dozen stray dogs. Brooke especially was quite distraught. Once we had dropped our stuff off at the hotel, we drove 45 minutes into central Istanbul. Along the way, we stopped at a park where hundreds of Turks were eating dinner alongside the Sea of Marmara.
As our tour guide took us through the bustling Turkish Bazaars, the first place we stopped was The Blue Mosque. Since prayer time was in session, we were unable to go in. Not to worry, our guide took us to the more well-known Hagia Sophia Mosque, which we were able to enter. In order to enter the Mosque, Mom and Brooke had to wear scarves covering their hair, and all four of us had to take our shoes off.
Prayer time was scheduled to begin fifteen minutes after we entered, so hundreds of Turks were already in the Mosque. Dad and I could go to the front of the Mosque, which was reserved for men, where all the Turks were on their knees praying to Allah.
The Mosque was quite incredible. Constructed 1,450 years ago, the entire building, besides the carpet and lighting, is original. Unlike European houses of worship, cameras are acceptable in Istanbul, so I was able to capture the entire experience with my 360-degree camera (I’ll post on YouTube in a few weeks).
When prayer time began, our guide took us to his “brothers” store, “Bazaar Abdulhamid”. If you’ve seen the second installment of the James Bond series, From Russia with Love, you know that “Blood is the best security,” which we learned in Istanbul, is quite certainly the case. Everyone seemed to be brothers.
While at the store, we were bombarded with a million different scents from spices, teas, and foods. Soon we had a glass of tea in our hands and plates of “Turkish delight” in our faces. Everything we ate and drank was divine enough to buy several bags of tea. We also bought two handmade Turkish rugs, which the owner assured will last 60-70 years.
Forty-five minutes later, when we were done chatting with the locals and had our fix of authentic Turkish snacks, another of our guide’s brothers beckoned us to his restaurant, Rasital-i. Knowing we needed food and unsure of where else we’d eat in downtown Istanbul, we kindly obliged.
We ate on an outdoor patio alongside the Sea of Marmara with clear skies and 75-degree weather. Absolute bliss. Knowing I needed to stay up for fifteen more hours with our upcoming flight back stateside, I ordered a traditional Turkish coffee. The three sips I drank were the most potent coffee I’d ever consumed. Needless to say, it did the trick. I ordered a lamb shank with my coffee and a traditional Cappadocian dish, Testi Kebab. Turkey is well known for its kebabs. I was picturing something on a long skewer. What we got was even more impressive.
When it was time for the kebab, our server came right next to our table with a blazing clay pot he had ignited, filled with our kebab. Inside the pot were lamb, beef, and chicken. The waiter performed a forty-five-second demonstration that was met with clapping and yelling up and down the bazaar as the waiter banged on the pot until the top broke, and he poured the contents onto our dish.
As I ate the food, my mouth was overcome with a multitude of flavors. The lamb shank was mouth-watering, and the kebab delectable. I ate until I physically couldn’t fit another bite into my belly. Saying goodbye to that restaurant hurt my heart, knowing I won’t be able to eat food that tasty until I return to Istanbul next.
Our final forty-five minutes of the tour were spent driving over the Bosphorus Bridge into the Asian side of Istanbul and taking in the views from Nakkaştepe Millet Bahçesi National Park.
We got back to the hotel at 1:30 AM. By the time I had showered and packed for our final leg back to Chicago, it was 2:30, and I had one hour until I was to wake up to head to the airport.
Sunday, June 12, 2022
I’ve never seen as much security in an airport as I did at Istanbul’s. As soon as we walked into the airport, we went through a security checkpoint. After that, we went through the typical TSA-style airport security, and then once we arrived at our departing gate, we went through yet another security checkpoint, three in all.
We had two hours to kill at the airport before our flight to Chicago, so we used our Priority Pass memberships and went to the IGA Lounge. Not to my surprise, this was the most spacious and well-kept lounge I’ve ever been to. Our 15-hour, spur-of-the-moment trip in Istanbul just so happened to be the highlight of the trip. By the time we landed in Chicago, it was 9:30 AM, which meant that within the past 15 hours, we had been in three different continents.
This trip went nothing at all how we planned. Just from the get-go, we were lucky to get on board a flight to Europe. Once we succeeded in getting to Europe, every decision we made was a spur-of-the-moment audible, thanks to our initial delay and the news of my grandmother’s passing.
We experienced scores of unique memories I will keep with me for the rest of my life. I learned countless new travel lessons that will only make me better for my next trip. Being able to do it with my parents and wife made it all the more special. I can’t wait to tell my daughter about the chaos that ensued, which she was utterly oblivious to. I am beyond thankful that the Lord allowed us to do this all safely while allowing us to return on time for my grandmother’s funeral. This trip was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure I wouldn’t trade for the world.