2016-11-23: NOKOMIS-MIAMI-TORONTO-ISTANBUL

2016-11-23: Nokomis-Miami-Toronto-Istanbul

'Garbage, garbage' honks the flight attendant. Is she collecting or dispensing? This is Air Canada Rouge flight 1683, the No Frills Option, from Miami northward. It's not totally Frill-less. There are wings, and free water. Canada is a country well-known for large, empty spaces. None of them have sneaked past The Frills Inspector.  I rest my jaw on my knees, thankful not to have to also juggle one of the meals glossily touted for sale in the brochure I stare at two inches in front of my crossed eyes. Time does not pass easily. There’s no room.

In Toronto, our flight leaves North America in 35 minutes from Gate J3 waaaay  across the frozen tundra of Toronto airport. Legs unfold, complain, but do their job.

Istanbul is  7 time zones and  8331 kilometers to the east at 900 kilometers an hour. Do the math. That’s a long time to be origami-ed in No Frills Land.

1.       Flight 1683, No Frills/No Space, was stuffed and paralysis-inducing. Flight  810 is another territory entirely, Medium Frills  and as spacious as Canada. Legs sigh. I share 3 seats with an ebullient young Ethiopian who has grown up in Canada, lucky country. I uncross my eyes.  I check: there are wings. The brochure promises  films, food, USB ports, other free liquids. Ethiopian row mate waves 'Ciao' and joins other fellow 810ers staking out homesteads over the kilometers of empty seats and rows. Between us, Den and I have 10 seats. I fit just fine, thank you, dining,  lounging, then sleeping, across my three. I awake as dawn breaks over frozen Amsterdam, 11,000 meters below. I’ve slept across 3 seats and an ocean.

Turkish passport control with our online multiple entry visa is a snap. Crowds circle the carousels waiting for Flight 810 to disgorge their huge mounds of  luggage. We sweep past them with our 15 pound backpacks, then past the  semi-dozing customs guys,  then through the ‘Nothing to Declare' door and into Istanbul. The  ATM dispenses denominations too large for the machines that offer Metro tickets, but the  lady at  the Tourist Information Kiosk gets us all sorted out with tickets and we join the crowds on Istanbul's superb public transportation system. A young woman offers me her seat.  

One change and 45 minutes later we walk past the Blue Mosque on the right, Aya Sofia on the left, familiar territory, but never, never old hat. A few minutes later Zeki.grabs and hugs us. Once again, Istanbul is home. It's November 24, Thanksgiving back in the USA, Turkey Day. It’s Turkey day for us, too. Once again, we are thankful.