Homeward Bound

Good bye park, good bye Blue Mosque.
Home again, home again, not so lickety-split. We were up at 5:00 am to get ready for the shuttle and thankful that the alarm worked since the wake up call never came. They did call to say the shuttle was there and waiting, though 15 minutes earlier than planned. We were the sole riders for the 30 minute ride, which they had told us to plan an hour for. Sleep deprivation could have been reduced.

When we arrived at the airport, the driver pointed to a line of traffic, grunted and went down a different road. He drove up the parking ramp and around and around climbing the levels of parking, with us scratching our heads. He finally pointed to a doorway that was direct access from the ramp to the entrance of the airport, thus cutting through the line of traffic if he had come the other way. Quite clever, we thought after we had realized what he was up to.

Absolutely immediately upon entering the airport, you have to go through security. All luggage and your person must be scrutinized before you can even check in at the airline counter. Once through this, we looked for our flight's ticket counter to get our boarding passes, but it only went as late as 8:30; our flight was 9:15. There are no restaurants or any diversions until after Passport Control.

We waited for over an hour for our flight to be posted, but then I realized all Turkish Airline flights were being ticketed at G/H sections. Our flight was Lufthansa, but operated by Turkish Air. We walked over there and sure enough, they were doing open check in for all flights. For some reason they could not give us our connecting flight boarding passes for Lufthansa, though Lufthansa could coming. They were able to send our baggage through to Budapest. Passport Control was relatively easy and then the long walk to the gate. That is one big airport.

As you approach the gate, you have to go through security yet again. They asked me to turn on my laptop this time. Then they check your passport against your boarding card and stamp it one more time. I have to give kudos to Turkish Air. All of their seats are leather, we had plenty of legroom, and the meal was substantial as well as tasty. We left 15 minutes late, but arrived in Munich on time, which was not a good thing arriving at 11:00 am with a 3:10 pm connecting flight.

Munich airport is also huge, but there were few shops in the area we were in, so not wanting to leave a secured area and reenter, we sat it out. Lufthansa also gets high marks for having racks of reading material at the gates: International Herald Tribune, USA Today, and the Financial Times all English publications. Also impressive is their self-service coffee and tea kiosks which are free. Great service!

Munich has gone the way of other airports with their strict no smoking policies. Those renegades such as myself are destined to stand in a square Plexiglas well ventilated fishbowl to indulge our bad habits. My empathy for aquarium creatures and zoo animals has increased tremendously. This was the only such den of iniquity in the entire wing of gates, so I did get some exercise doing a fast walk back from our gate area for one last hit before descending to the gate itself.

One hour was productively spent on the computer writing, but the battery was about to give out. I only get an hour on this laptop and thought ahead to reserve some power for another go at having to turn it on again. Although we were in a secured area, past security and Passport Control, we had to go through yet a second security to get to our gate. The gate was on the lower level and when they called the flight, we boarded a bus. I found it interesting that the overhead announcement repeatedly stated that due to increased security measures for those going to the US, please go to your gate immediately. I cannot imagine the security being any stricter than what we passed through already.

Not being a full plane, we had the middle seat free. The 'lunch' service was exactly the same at the one we had going, only this time, no choices. It was salami or salami. So much for Muslim food restrictions; we were now out of their zone of influence. Flying time was 55 minutes, a full 15 less than going. Must have been a good tail wind that propelled us.

Having gone by the shuttle to the airport, we had our return tickets already and were called within 5 minutes. Alone in the van we thought we would get home in a hurry, it stopped at the old airport and filled every seat with tourists, so we were third to be dropped off.

All in all, it is fun to go, but for me a joy most of the time to return to familiar surroundings and comforts of home.

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A Month Later, the Adventure Ends

It is just past midnight, but we are up, brushed our teeth yet again, dressed and ready to meet the taxi. As soon as the elevator doors open on the ground floor, the third desk clerk we have seen today announces our taxi is here and waiting. Once again we confirm that it is a set rate for 90 Ringgits for the ride and are assured it is settled. The driver’s command of English is as impressive as ours is of Malay, so the ride is quiet.

Being an international flight, we need to arrive two hours early to check in. The driver pulls up to the airport departure curb within forty-five minutes, giving me pause to think of the fifteen minutes I could have spent sleeping or writing or anything but sitting in an airport. The fare, we are told, is 130 Ringgits. When we dare to suggest the rate was 90 Ringgits guaranteed, the driver’s command of the English language was well enough to say there is a nighttime surcharge. We paid it and moved on, grateful for the fact we still had enough Ringgits for a coffee inside.

The airport boasts signs that it was rated the WORLD’S BEST AIRPORT FOR 2005 AND 2006. Makes you wonder what happened to them last year. It was like entering a ghost town in the Wild West, the lights were on, but no one was at home being the first impression. When we looked at the monitor, there was not check-in gate listed for our flight. However, I saw a very long line and went to investigate it and then joined the queue only then asking what the line was for. Ron had a smart mouth remark about my finding a line and having to join it needlessly. Well, it turned out that this line reaching three blocks in length was the line to check in for our flight. Good grief, we were here slightly more than two hours early. What did these people do, camp out here as if they were starting the sale of concert tickets?

I had concerns about this many people fitting on a plane regardless of the size, but then realized that every man in Arabic dress with a turban had his whole tribe here to see him off. They took so many pictures of each other, you would think it was a wedding or they were witnessing the second coming.

We stood immobile for twenty minutes. Not having binoculars, we could not see what was happening at the beginning of the line. Word finally reached us via carrier pigeon that the computer system was down and they could not process anyone, hence the wait. The computer system is down in the WORLD’S BEST AIRPORT FOR 2005 AND 2006? Now we know why they were skipped over for 2007. Now I wondered whether I should have concerns about the airport or Qatar Airlines. Placing the blame on the airport was less fearful than thinking an airline could not keep its computer system functional. Please let the control towers computer be working that is all I ask at this unreasonable hour. It took another fifteen minutes before the line started to creep along like a caterpillar on tranquillizers.

By the time we checked in, we had reached the time of boarding for our flight. The only satisfaction was that there was still a whole village of people behind us waiting to check in also, giving a one last chance for a cigarette. When we left for the gate, there was still a lengthy snake of luggage carts nose to tail with anxious travelers hoping the plane would wait for them. At the gate, we boarded the plane immediately. Having a 2-4-2 configuration, we were lucky to have the two seats on the right side of the plane. Again, each seat has its own monitor featuring over 50 international movies in English or sub-titled, 150 TV episodes, games, and so on. Miracles do happen, in spite of lines, we left the gate only five minutes late. The first leg of the journey would be seven hours and forty minutes to Doha, Qatar. The first meal was breakfast with a menu of choices. Observing the flight attendants was interesting. They rarely spoke to each other even when serving food together. Likewise, they rarely spoke to the passengers unless absolutely necessary. When they came around with the hot towels, for instance, they never asked if you would like one, they just handed it to you with their little tongs. Either you took it or you didn’t. When they collected them, they did not utter a sound, but put the container in front of you to dispose of the towel wordlessly. Is this an efficiency scheme, I wonder? Avoid unnecessary speech to get the job done?

After one movie, The Nanny Diaries, a cute flick, I was out for the count. Another interesting observation for me was that people stayed in their seats the entire flight. There was no roaming, stretching, or other activity. Perhaps it was the hour, but it was an anomaly from any other flight I have been on.

When we landed in Doha, although we were still in a secured area, we had to go through security again having ourselves as well as carry-on luggage x-rayed. Our next flight was already boarding, regardless of the fact that it was not due to leave for another forty-five minutes. When we reached the gate, we had the show our boarding tickets and passports yet again, before going through yet another security check point. Then once again, we had to show our passports and boarding tickets. Talk about compulsive behaviors. This plane had a 3-4-3 configuration, but was half empty. Still, there were three of us in our section, which sent Ron hunting for a better territory as soon as the seatbelt sign was off. This time around the flight was four hours and thirty-five minutes and shared monitors with no choice of movies. I watched the first movie, but missed the title. I will have to search for a movie with Jimmy Smits and Lyn Redgrave to see what it is. Found it, The Jane Austen Book Club. I thought I had slept after this, but when I opened my eyes again, Ratatouille was playing, so I watched this yet again. All in all, we would without hesitation fly Qatar Airlines again. Their being frequent flyer partners with United increases the appeal too. The flight landed in Vienna on time without incident.

Austrian Passport Control and Customs has to be the most relaxed in the European Union. The Passport Control officer barely looked at my passport before stamping it and telling me to have a good day. There was no one at Customs just as in the past, so we sailed through quickly and efficiently.

We bought tickets on the CAT train to the city center for nine Euros each, a hefty amount, but were in the center in sixteen minutes. From here we had to take the U3 subway seven stops to the Western train station to board our train to Budapest. We had bought round trip Budapest>Vienna>Budapest tickets, but we were uncertain about needing a seat reservation. Ron went to inquire and was assured we did not for an EC train, though an IC, we would have. After getting some snacks we boarded the train for the last leg of our journey; all was well….for the first twenty minutes and then the conductor arrived.

After taking an extraordinary long time looking over our tickets, he finally started ranting in German. When he realized he could have had a German shepherd understand more of what he was saying than we could, he switched to English. It seems our tickets expired in 2007. After having full faith in the ticket seller at Keleti train station that she understood we were returning in 2008, we never did do a double take at the tickets. Tickets to Vienna include three days of public transport in Vienna, so we erroneously believed that the three day span written on our tickets was the public transport piece, not the train ticket itself. We were faced with two options: pay for the seats or get off at the next station, still paying the full price, but having to wait four hours for the next train. With some sense of impending doom, I had held back Euros for our trip home, perhaps some intuitive thoughts prevailed. Our tickets cost us 30.80 Euros ($49.13), an outrageous amount considering a round trip ticket is only 29 Euros. Normally, I would have been irate at this unnecessary expenditure, but my philosophy this whole trip has been that we deserve it and we have the money for the first time in our advanced years, so what the hell.

Something was different on this train trip. When we had left, the Austrian and Hungarian Passport Control had made their way through and stamped our passports. Now, the Hungarian patrolled through the car, but never stopped. I had read that Hungary was joining the Schengren Treaty where the borders were coming down for EU members who qualified, but I seem to recall it was not going into effect until much later in 2008. What will these former controllers have to control in the future; will they become jobless?

As is usual, the Hungarian train conductor makes his rounds after leaving the first Hungarian stop. For some reason, they came as a gang of three. Did they get advance notice of our defunct ticket? With flourish and a quick twist of the wrist, I produced the ticket almost freshly printed by the Austrian conductor. His Hungarian counterpart looks at it and hands it to his band of not so merry men and they start squawking like chickens that sense danger in the henhouse. Then he informs us that our ticket is only to the Austrian border. What the hell, we spent 30.80 Euros just to get to the Hungarian border? Trying to explain our situation was an exercise in futility, even after showing our original ticket with only one punch mark showing we went to Vienna, but had not used it to return. A half of unused ticket was wasted because of that three day writing on it. Again, we had the same two options as before. However, this time, I did not have Hungarian forints in reserve, not thinking we would need them until arriving home again. Tickets to get us back to Budapest would be another 9,896 forints ($56.90). By some miracle, Ron happened to have a 10,000 forint bill in his wallet and we handed it over to the three musketeers. Our return trip home cost us $106.03 more than it should have when a normal round trip fare is only $42.47. Is this karmic retribution for not tipping the cab driver at the Kuala Lumpur airport?

When we arrived at the Keleti station, I wanted to kiss the ground and would have except for fear of diseases. Now I had someone buy me an annual transportation pass, but little good it was doing me now sitting at home waiting for me. I had to hunt down a transport ticket for the bus.

We were home a half an hour finally getting here at 5:30 pm local time, but five hours earlier in Kuala Lumpur and dead tired even if getting long naps during twelve hours and fifteen minutes of flying. Downloading e-mails and Microsoft updates that were missed over the last month, all of a sudden the electricity in the whole apartment goes out. Let me think, who else did we skip a tip on for this to happen. With a candle in hand, Ron climbed the ladder to check the circuit breaker. He flipped a switch, but nothing happened. I do remember paying the electric bill the day we left, so what gives. Aha, there is yet another switch next to the electric meter. I flipped it before flipping out completely and viola we were illuminated once again.

Pushing myself to stay up, I made it to 10:30 pm. Ron crashed at 8:30. Now the adventure is just a collection of memories stored for future reflections.

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Mile High

Getting through Customs and Passport Control was relatively easy and swift. We were advised to use the ATM machine inside the luggage area. There is only one machine and it was not spitting out any cash for anyone. Once we were through the doors, throngs of taxi drivers bombarded all of the passengers with offers of rides, but we only wanted the ATM machine. My second nightmare was about to come to fruition. I tried my Euro card from our Hungary bank. It would not work with the message “Sorry, we are temporarily unable to complete this request”. Okay, fine, I used my California account ATM card, but the same story. We then tried another bank’s machine with the same results. I started to panic. We were relying on using ATMs while we were away. The third machine was the same issue yet again, but we watched others leave the machines hopelessly as poor as they approached them, so it could not be us. We went to a money exchange and changed enough cash for a taxi.

People bombard you with advice on which taxi to take and it is supposed to be a set rate, but amazingly it is not. We finally agreed on a price of 90 RM for our ride, climbed in and off we drove. They drive on the same side as the British and since this was part of the colony until only fifty years ago, this makes sense. The driver drove, we slept, he drove some more and we slept some more. Two and a half hours later, we arrived a block from our hotel. Still feeling drugged, not fully coherent, he told us that our hotel was a half block away, but cars were not allowed down the street. In our hazed awareness, it seemed like we were in the middle of an evacuation plan for a city, surrounded by unbelievable crowds. The mobs of people surrounding us were overwhelming. The smells, the colors, the sounds were sensory overload at high speed.

We checked into the China Town Hotel 2 and were asked for the full payment. We had to kindly plea for more time explaining the dilemma with the ATM machines at the airport. The problem continued a block away from the hotel. I know I have the correct PIN code for our Euro account, though our bank has been bought out by another bank. When I called them before leaving, they assured me the card would be good until January 1^st. Due to the time needed, I did not bother going to get a replacement card. Our CA account, I have no idea what is happening with that, but it is Bank of America and I have had nothing but problems with them this year. Strangely, Ron tried his card and it worked fine. At least we will not have to get advances from credit cards. The hotels do not take plastic.

First impressions of Kuala Lumpur: overcrowded, dirty, polluted, high tech, bustling to the point of ridiculousness, rainbow of color in the skin of people and the clothes they wear. I keep asking myself where the beautiful sights they had on their television commercials that state “Malaysia, Truly Asia” and have all of the magnificent scenery. It certainly was not this city. Perhaps it is jet lag, it is seven hours ahead of Budapest, or it is possibly just not enough preparation, but I keep asking myself why we are here.

We keep returning to our hotel situated in the heart of the China Town area. We have napped a great deal; it is easy to do since our room has no windows. The only light when everything is turned off is what leaks from under the door from the hallway. We only have this room for two nights. Ron was assured by the Lonely Planet guide swearing that you should only book a couple of nights and then find the rest when you are on the ground.

By 10:30, we are ready to call it quits and actually sleep restfully for the night to get on track with the time change. The alarm is set for 8:30 am.

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