Aisha and the $2,059 Turkish Bath

No photos from this day, just lots of angst.  (I wrote the following by hand after I got to the Istanbul airport.)


Short story: I thought my flight home was today (28 July).  I had it in my head I'd be home on the Thursday the 28th and need to take leave on Friday the 29th to recuperate from time travel.  After all, why go into the office for one day?  


Well, as we all know, Thursday was the 29th and Friday the 30th.  The reality: I was supposed to fly out on Tuesday the 27th and arrive home on the Wednesday the 28th, meaning the 29th wasn't Friday.


So it's 9:30 this morning, I'm sitting on the bed sorting through important paper stuff (like which ticket stubs to keep), and decide to double-check my flight departure time.  Aegean Air's confirmation page is very difficult to read - all caps, single spaced, lines run together -but even after ten double-takes it still read: "ISTATH27JUL1620PM" and squinting at my day/date watch kept confirming it was Wednesday the 28th. (At least I did have the time right.)


What's most embarrassing is I had written the correct date in highlighter at the top of the page.  Had I looked at it Monday, I would have been packing on Tuesday instead of riding a ferry to Bursa.


Panic is close to an adequate word.  The nice English-speaking desk clerk let me call Aegean Airlines from downstairs, but of course the ticket couldn't be changed.  On the bright side, they're going to refund the $17 in airport taxes I would have paid.  At this point it's 11 AM, I'm not packed, and I don't have flights home.  The manager agreed to let me check out at 2 instead of noon, and I spent an hour trying to find the least expensive fares, through every city in every combination imaginable.  One option had me going through Budapest.  The best I could do was fly Turkish Airlines from Istanbul to London, stay overnight, and fly Air France to National Airport via Paris and JFK.  I lost count of how many times I checked myself on getting the connections right.  Arriving at National instead of Dulles was the one bit of good news.


You've never seen anyone pack as fast as I did, and I was a decent imitation of a whirling dervish, though it wasn't quite as spiritual.  Forget about a shower.  I figured I'd be grungy from the plane trip anyway.  By 2:05 I was rolling me and my bags into the elevator.  The desk clerk who doesn't speak English scheduled an airport shuttle for 4:20.


Since I was hot, sweaty, and had 2-1/2 hours till the shuttle, I asked whether there was a hamam (Turkish Bath) nearby.  There was, and they had a free shuttle to pick me up at the hotel.  The brochure claims the hamam was built in 1425 by one of the most famous architects of the Ottoman Empire.  Everyone who's been to Turkey has recommended these, and wouldn't it be making lemonade out of lemons to have one? 


Here's a photo of a hamam similar to the one I was in.

Maybe if the shuttle hadn't been late (because of traffic) and if we hadn't gotten to the hamam so late (because of traffic), and if the guy at the hamam had spoken English so I could explain my time constraints, then I might have enjoyed my Turkish Bath. I tried pointing to my watch to indicate I wanted to know how much time it would take and the man kept pointing at the hours of operation in the brochure.  I tried drawing two clock faces, one showing 3:15 and the other showing 4:00, which is when I'd have to leave to get the shuttle.  All he did was shake his head and point to the hours of operation again.


Finally the driver who picked me up came in.  He apologetically explained that the free shuttle was provided only one way, but that walking would be faster anyway - because of, you got it, traffic.  I told him I wanted only a 40-minute massage/bath (very inexpensive, by the way - about $20 no matter how long it lasted).


A nice woman about my age came out to take me to the changing room and then to the bathing room.  She asked my name, and the rest of the time directed me from one segment of the process to the next by saying, "Aisha!" and then leading me as if I were a trained seal (though not in a mean way - just enthusiastic).  I tried to relax, I really did.  I even enjoyed the pleasant breeze on the "walk" back to the hotel.  I was thrilled to find the hotel.  And more thrilled that the shuttle hadn't already come and gone when I walked into the lobby at 4:21.  I guess heavy traffic can be good for something.


I got to the airport in plenty of time to make it through what seemed like 18 wickets that required passports and carry-on scanning.  I exchanged TL for pounds sterling.  I bought a paperback book.  I was in the home stretch.


From Heathrow I got a taxi to a little B & B called King's Paget Hotel.  I got to the front door, which was locked, there was no one at reception to let me in.  I pressed the buzzer repeatedly to no avail.  Finally, I tapped on the window of one of the guest rooms and the nice man let me in.  I went to the reception desk and there was a sign directing me to dial a phone number and then press the buzzer.  Well, I didn't have a cell phone.  Another nice guest called the number for me and the woman who answered said she'd send someone right over.  The room was small, and there was a shared bathroom (not a big deal since I was the only one on the floor), but it cost only $50 and included breakfast.  It was a difficult night, though, because I was afraid that the battery would die on my iPhone (and of course I didn't bring my UK plug adapter since I wasn't supposed to BE in the UK) and I wouldn't wake up on time.  My stomach was still in knots and the only part of the English breakfast they served (toast, eggs, baked tomato, and baked beans) was the toast. 


The nice cook was also the on-site manager, and he called a cab for me for 10 AM so I get to the airport well ahead of my 12:50 flight.  From there everything went smoothly.  I even found out all of the miles from the UK would go to my Delta FF account since Air France is under their umbrella.  When we touched down at JFK (the skankiest airport I've ever been in), I put the SIM card back in the iPhone, but it didn't work and I couldn't get it out.  Great.  No way to let Steve know the flight to National was delayed for an hour.  At National, I did something I haven't done in years:  I used a pay phone.  Steve was circling because the cell phone waiting lot was full, my bag arrived on the same plane I did, and I got to sleep in my own bed.


So here's the tally on costs for this little brain fart of mine:
$115 for the tour to Bursa.
$50 for the additional night in Istanbul.
$165 to fly from Istanbul to London.
$1660 to fly from London to Washington DC.
$54 for the B & B in London.
$34 for the taxis to and from Heathrow.
[-$17 return of Athens airport taxes]


A $ 2,059 Turkish Bath.  Priceless.


So that's it for the blog.  I hope you've enjoyed the Adventures of Aisha!