Monday morning began quite well. Ross and I took one last look at the view of Istanbul, drank one last glass of cherry juice/coffee, and ate one final meal at the hotel breakfast buffet. Then we headed downstairs to catch our ride to the airport. I was surprised that traffic flowed freely toward the airport during a Monday morning rush hour, so I guess Istanbul’s traffic isn’t too bad considering the size of the city.
At the airport, Ross and I each checked into our flights, which departed within a half-hour of each other, to Chicago and Sarajevo respectively. When I checked in, the woman at the counter asked me to weigh my carry-on. It was a tiny bit over their 8kg limit, so she made me check my bag. Well, I thought it’d be no problem, since I was on a direct flight that was scheduled for an on-time departure…
I said goodbye to Ross when his flight left, and then went to my gate to board my own flight. I was happy to be seated in a three-person row with nobody in the middle seat. We took off on time, and I read, ate the vegetarian parts of the meal served, and played some games on my iPad.
As we got near Sarajevo, I noticed that the “time until landing” on the TV screen above me kept increasing. It seemed like we were just going in circles. In fact, that was exactly what we were doing. I guess the pilot was having a hard time landing, and in his frustration, was making his announcements only in Turkish, without giving the usual English translations.
At one point, we were very close to landing. In fact we were right above the Sarajevo airport, so close that I could see the cars and people below me. There were a couple of bumps, but nothing abnormal. Then, the pilot made one more announcement in Turkish, and everyone started to groan. I got up and asked the flight attendant what was happening. He informed me that the pilot couldn’t land due to the air around the Sarajevo airport, and we were flying back to Istanbul! Ugh. I had a great time there, but I was starting to look forward to getting back “home” to Sarajevo.
When we got to the Istanbul airport, I found it very odd that the flight attendants played all of the recorded announcements like we were supposed to be arriving there. “Welcome to Istanbul. The current temperature is blah blah blah, we hope you enjoy your stay, please fly with us again soon.” Well, I hope I will be flying again soon, I thought! The flight attendants had no information about what we were supposed to do, so we headed back inside the airport concourse to see if anyone could help.
After going up to the Turkish airlines transfer desk, everyone from the flight was instructed to meet at a specific gate for more information. Soon a representative from BH Airlines came up, and began to make an announcement in Bosnian. All of the Turkish people on my flight started yelling at him to speak in English, which I found to be unfair, since their airline had made all of the announcements only in Turkish. He did in fact translate everything to English once he completed the announcement. Basically, BH Airlines was going to try to take as many people as possible to Sarajevo in the evening, but did not have room for about half of our flight. There was no information about how they would decide who would get to go.
Of course, chaos ensued! Everyone wanted to get to Sarajevo as soon as possible. There was a giant mob of men pushing their way toward the desk at the gate and pestering the agents to get them on the flight. (Well, actually most of the Turkish men were concerned about getting on the flight and most of the Bosnian men and women were concerned about finding a place to smoke while we waited for information.)
I knew that there was no hope for me to get any attention, so I walked over to the BH Airlines transfer desk, and talked to the guys who worked there. I told them how much I needed to get on the flight, in order to be back on Tuesday to play my solos with the orchestra. I also told them that I was traveling alone with nowhere to stay overnight if I get stuck. They kept responding to me in Bosnian, and I had to keep reminding them I didn’t speak very much of the language. “I’m sorry, it’s because you look so much like Bosnian girl” one of them kept replying. I’ll take that as a compliment, because most Bosnian women are very pretty. J
After a while, I returned to the mob scene and waited it out. Eventually, I noticed that one of the guys I talked to from BH Airlines had come over. I handed him my ticket stub, and he called in my information so I could get on the evening flight. Success! In fact, I was the first name to be called when they listed who would get on. I felt very crafty…
Once I got my ticket for the evening flight, I went to eat some dinner, and do a little window-shopping until it was time to go. Flying the same flight twice in one day was pretty weird—I kept having feelings of Déjà vu. The BH flight landed in Sarajevo just fine. I’ve been told several times that there are some tricks for dealing with the weird air-pressure of the valley, and that Bosnian pilots are the best at landing here. I felt so relieved once we hit the ground. Everyone on the plane applauded!
After I got off the plane and went through passport control, I started to wait for my bag. I waited and waited, but it never came. I started to panic as I realized that my music for the next morning’s rehearsal was in the bag. Fortunately, all of the pieces were in the public domain. I called Sara, and she reassured me that I could download everything online.
I was so tired and a little bit angry that my bag was lost. I waited a little longer, and then went to the lost baggage office. The people working at this office were so friendly and helpful that I found it impossible to remain upset. They filed a report, and reassured me that they would find my bag and have it delivered to my home or place of work.
When I finally got home, Sara greeted me with a nice big bowl of homemade chili and some chocolate chip cookies. It was the perfect way to unwind after my trip. I went online to see if there was anything else I could do to find my baggage, and was very amused by the “Lost Your Baggage” article on the Sarajevo Airport’s website. It’s so cute in its sincerity and vivid descriptiveness that I think I’ll end this post with a quote from it. (I did eventually get my bag. The Tuesday flight from Istanbul was cancelled, so I got it two days after my arrival in Sarajevo. I was so relieved when it came…I was getting a little grungy without my hairbrush, clean pants, or deodorant.)
If you are a frequent flyer, you have probably experienced that unpleasant anger you feel each time you stare at the conveyor belt, hopping nervously and looking enviously at a fellow passenger who has already picked up his luggage. A number of bags on the conveyor is getting less, the crowd around the belt is leaving and you desperately face the fact that your luggage is lost. If you are of bad luck, one voyage is more than enough to experience something like that.
You wonder what to do.
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