It’s inevitable when you are in a foreign country that you will goof up from time to time. This is John’s story of one such goof-up. And it was especially irritating coming after our previous Istanbul airport adventures: haven’t we suffered enough?
About a month ago, a friend of ours was coming to visit us in Istanbul for a few days. She’d been elsewhere in Turkey, and so it was a short and easy flight here. Since Istanbul, given its size and bustle, can be an intimidating place, John offered to meet her at the airport. He looked carefully at the airport map and found a meeting place just outside the security area, just in case her phone didn’t work.
John’s generosity was laudable, but it was partly based on ease: the airport is right on the Metro line near our apartment. Every time we take it, we notice that Atatürk airport as the last stop (it even has the little international sign for airport: check photo above). There’s another airport on the Asian side called Sabiha Gokcen International Airport (SAW). But our friend’s itinerary clearly said that her destination was Istanbul airport (IST). (Those of you who have been to Istanbul within the last five years will already know what happened. This is for those of you who have not.)
John left himself plenty of time to get to the airport and even brought along a book. The train was pretty full: lots of people with suitcases getting on. Good sign, no? At one point, well before the last stop, a huge number of people with suitcases got off. That was a bit troubling. But nothing to worry about; he went back to his reading. About three stops from the end of the line, John noticed that the train was practically empty. Being smarter than the average bear, he began to suspect that all was not well. And by the Atatürk stop at the end of the line, there were just two of them, and the other guy looked at him as if to say, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
John left the Metro station, only to behold the emptiest area he’d ever seen and the eeriest silence too. Neither is what you’d expect at the airport – nary a plane in earshot, or sight. But in for a penny, in for a pound. He wandered over to the ‘arrivals’ road (which was mysteriously devoid of cars). It was fenced off. Fortunately, he found a guard who spoke some English. John explained that he was there to pick up a friend. The guard looked at him like he was crazy and said, ‘The airport’s closed’. Oh no, thought our John: terrorist attack? Blizzard? ‘What happened’?, he asked. The guard replied, ‘It’s been closed for four years. You want Istanbul airport’. Huh? ‘Isn’t this Istanbul airport’? ‘No, this is Atatürk airport’. But everything important is named for Atatürk, so why isn’t this the airport?
(Do remember, dear friends, that our arrival was marked by darkness and drama; John is not quite so stupid as this story makes him sound. We neither of us had any idea where the airport was.) Back to Atatürk. John got onto ‘the interwebs’ and learned, with a sinking feeling, that Istanbul airport was in an entirely different direction, with no public transportation there. There were, obviously, no taxis, and our friend’s flight was due to land in less than an hour. So John returned home. Our friend had no trouble getting a taxi to our place. Aside from John feeling like a jackass, there was no real harm done.
We did learn a few days later that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Atatürk airport, but that the current administration wanted to build a big new airport. There’s still no direct transportation there, though they have been promising a new line which now seems ready. And apparently the new one is an environmental disaster, built right on a flight path for migrating birds. So, we learned, sometimes they have to ground flights when the birds are en route. They should have stuck with Atatürk. We know we would have. So convenient, right there on the Metro line …
