As usual my journey begins at Sydney Airport, a location that prepares you for your trip by making leaving it an unadulterated joy. Actually I haven’t even got as far as the airport yet. I’m in the hotel across the street. This indulgence has been forced on me due to the fact that my plane leaves at Obscene o’clock in the morning. That means getting up before I go to bed. Pretty much my only hope of not sleeping through the plane’s departure is to get an adjacent hotel and then sleep in the gutter outside.The hotel staff persuaded me to go inside by pointing out that they charged just as much for a gutter stay and there was no TV.
Assuming I wake up in time tomorrow will see me nestled in the bowels of a large metal bird hoping it avoids the drones over Dubai and spits me out somewhere in the vicinity of Istanbul. Assuming my journey progresses as planned a vehicle will be waiting to whisk me to my hotel. At least that’s the plan. The last time I tried something like that I wound up stranded at Nairobi airport and if it wasn’t for the kindness of a nearby soldier I’d probably still be there. And dead of course.
Two days of touring Istanbul await or possibly two days of hitchhiking through the city trying to find my hotel. I do have to find it because the professional tour starts from the hotel two days after I arrive. Which should be just enough time to find the hotel, fall in a cistern and buy a football shirt.
Excitement and cultural experiences await. Always assuming I wake up in time.
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