A couple of hours' sleep does not leave you energetic, all the more so when it seems you are doing nothing more active than eating.
Filled out the immigration card. Given a fast track thruugh customs which essentially is some dedicated customs' officials dealing with business class passengers.
Enjoyed the black coffee more than the fruit plate [nothing wrong with the latter] for its very modest pick me up effect.
The regular line pretty much filled the room but there were appreciably more staff. Told the guy heading straight to Turkish Airlines to check in; very quick and no thumb/index finger print for Canucks.
Check-in with Turkish Airlines was a bit slow in terms of waiting. Took less than two minutes, including the all important adding of the Aeroplan number for the LHR/IST and IST/FRU legs.
Never saw Terminal 3 so busy as today but it's probably been five or more years since I went through it. Did the initial diary draft for Day One, used the facilities and off to Gate 7.
Another 777-300 [some plane sheets said same, others 777-300ER]. The Turkish Airlines' magazine is much less pretentious than its AC counterpart and much more interesting as well. Sat near some young Turkish kids who spoke English most of the time. Their banter was about as much as I could handle, the brain not in full gear on such days.
No kit this time from TK but a menu was a nice touch. Unfortunately had run out of the chicken medallions in curry butter so settled for the local stew with rice and ratouille, along with a red wine. I did not feel up to a shot of raki or an Efes beer, Roddy.
Through seven time zones with the arrival in Istanbul. The plane was down c 1715. We had barely touched, Roddy, when I spied my first set of minarets, another two dozen collected before the plane came to a stop at the gate.
Bit of a zoo-like quality to the general arrival area but the international transfer area for those with ongoing boarding passes moved quite quickly. After a slash, Trav, off to Gate 213. Lots of Germans with hiking books of various seriousness on the same flight.
34C in Istanbul and you can feel it through the glass. Have a sense the plane will leave late, cutting into my sleep time in Bishkek. The plane is a 737 900ER, three seats aside the single aisle. Boarding was in fact timely but we sat there without any explanation from the pilot or staff for over 30M, leaving a half hour late. It would have made AC proud.
Had to love this Chinese family which sat together notwithstanding scattered seats. Usually you ask first rather than take possession of the seats.
That I couldn't get the television stuff seemed apt. This flight was always going to be longer than it seemed due to my fatigue. Had a traditional minced beef [read hamburger patty] dish which was fine, capped off with an Efes beer that I did not particularly enjoy to be honest.
I thought we would be gated c 0300 but it was about 0215 after the hardest of the three landings today. We were the only flight so customs was quick: a scan of the passport and a stamp on the last page.
Lots of people waiting for pick ups in the public area. There was the usual immediate confusion with sorting things out. Found a money exchange: 9,500 Kyrg som for $200 US was okay. Then found a taxi spot. Nobody seemed to know the hotel. Must remember a blown up map and a phone number would be helpful.
A tree-lined boulevard for most of the 15M plus drive into Bishkek. Arriving in a city under the cover of darkness never gives you a proper sense of things but first impression was a bit of a time warp re 1980's. My taxi driver thought red lights were yield signs, at least until he got into the city's core.
I know it was a Saturday night but surprised to see the number of people out at the time, all men. A few local cafes were open, the scenes reminiscent of Marrakesh on a smaller scale.
My first experience with larger bills was the taxi driver not having changed. While I was quoted 600 som at the airport, I did not argue at 700 som, to be done the traveling [or so I thought] worth a couple of bucks US.
Found the Hotel Asia Mountains, my reference point being what I took to be the Dragoman truck. Another person was checking in, also heading out on the trip: an old bag! No room at the inn notwithstanding the reservation: a lost Third World reservation, Peta, can you believe that? She suggested the nearby Hotel King House.
A short three minute walk, lugging everything. Fortunately the door bell was answered and a room was available from a very sleepy looking hostess. Took awhile for the rocket scientist to get the door key to work. Had a shower, needed by that stage more for psychological factors. Even figured out the email thereafter before conking out c 0430, the alarm set for 0800. While I did not want to, there were some little peskies varmits about so closed the window and scrambled under a sheet.
