(Wed, Jan
22) From Amman I had to now cross both the prime meridian
and the equator. This would be done in a
few small hops and one giant step. Although I was heading west once more, which
should have taken me to an earlier time zone, my next stop, Istanbul, was in fact an hour later
than Amman. What a curious oddity! I would discover the next day that
sunrise was two hours later than in Jordan.
I then found that Tbilisi, Yerevan and
Baku all follow the same time as the UAE and Oman, while Baghdad and Kuwait
City, which lie directly south of the Caucasus, are an hour earlier. How complicated!
My flight was via Athens on Aegean,
departing in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. Amman to Athens was slated to last 2 hours
and 45 minutes, but was an hour faster than that. Arriving in Athens, cabin crew pushed through
the aisle that was crowded with passengers waiting to disembark. Passengers with their backpacks did the
same! I have never! What a fiasco! Unlike Queen Alia Airport in Amman, where
everything was open round the clock, here all shops were closed. Fortuitously, the coffee shops were open and I got a snack for breakfast. The flight to Istanbul was scheduled to depart at
08:25 but took off at 07:45! The young
man beside me muttered the whole way, and that sent chills down my spine. ……..Perhaps he was singing.
In Istanbul, I chose not to go into the city. I would be returning here after my trip
to the frozen continent, and I’d explore then.
Now I’d chosen a hotel near the airport on the shores of the Black Sea. After all the excitement of the past ten
days, I needed to rest. I was only meant to be here for one
night, but like I said, I messed up my flights, so two it would be. My taxi driver was unhappy about the fare
he’d scored because it was not far from the airport. He muttered and snorted. He huffed and he puffed. He even smacked parts of his car. He behaved like a child. His petulance did not cease for the entire
trip. He received a call en route, and
although I didn’t understand the words, the language was clear – he was cursing
me. I could hear his mates on the other
side laughing. What a scamp!
I’d certainly chosen a sleepy
neighbourhood. There was not much
around, with large plots of open land.
However, all day there were pockets of people enjoying the frigid beach. (It was 1°C.)
It seemed like a place to which city
folk might escape on weekends to unwind.
Looking out over the Black Sea, I could hear the spirits of Bulgaria,
Romania, Crimea and even Batumi (which I had to
remove from my itinerary when I visited Georgia in 2017) calling out, “Come and spend a little time with me!”
I’d intended to try different cafes
along the beachfront, or perhaps even to eat from supermarkets, but the weather
sent me back to the hotel. Here I had lunch and then dinner. The food was fantastic and the service
friendly. I’d say I hit a bit of luck choosing this
place from bookings.com. Because I hadn’t slept the night before, save
what I could steal in the air, I slumbered that night for ten
uninterrupted hours. The room was warm
and the bed very comfortable. What joy!
(Thu, Jan
23) After a tardy start, I ate breakfast downstairs. Then I planned to walk to what seemed to be
a more tightly-packed village on a rise just west of the hotel.
Above my head, two planes at a time were
taking off from Istanbul Airport! En
route, two out of a pack of dogs darted across the road to confront me, barking
their warning. One quickly accepted me,
while the other refused to relent. The
pack was made up entirely of big canines.
I decided that I would relent. The unfriendly hound continued barking until
it was satisfied that I’d vacated its territory.
There were many shut eateries along this beachfront road; I bet the area is quite popular in the
summer. Now an icy wind howled, and I was only slightly disappointed to
return to the warm room.
(Fri, Jan
24) At the boarding gate the next day, a
smattering of men looked like they’d had their heads shaved by an asphalt
grinder. At least two heads were even
bandaged. What is this?! It didn’t seem that they were together
as a group. I thought it must have something to do
with football. Then again, one of them
sat beside me, and he was from Chicago, where football isn’t such a big
deal. I wanted to ask him, but he struck up
a conversation with the woman on the other side of him, and that was that.
 |
| Installations at Istanbul Airport |
The plane was delayed for forty
minutes, and most of the people (I heard a cabin crew
member say) had
short layovers in Amsterdam. The pilot
promised to pick up speed in the air, and we landed only ten minutes late. Arrangements were announced before landing,
and among the things the staff had done to accommodate these passengers was to
delay two outbound flights to which they were connecting. My connection was tight, but not as tight as
all that. I was quite impressed with the effort
the crew made and also with how well they kept us informed. I’d already been impressed with them
for the jolly way in which they went about their job. This, combined with the South African chenin blanc I enjoyed at dinner and the
magnificent towering Dutchmen that dotted the cabin, made this one of the
happiest flights ever.
I connected to Buenos Aires. Though this flight was more standard, I had upgraded to economy comfort, which meant a little more legroom and a little
more recline. I was able to stretch my legs out
completely.
(Sat, Jan
25) Arriving early the next morning, Katja was
waiting for me downtown. She’d arrived
the night before. It was great to see her again after so
many years. Katja Preston and I had met in Thailand in 2004. On that trip, we’d stayed in the same resort,
hit it off, and played a great many rounds of backgammon. She had been working in South Korea. Subsequent to that holiday, she’d stayed on
in Thailand to teach. She’d then also
worked in England, then Chile, then Sri Lanka and most recently in Qatar. At some point she’d also paid me a visit in
Taiwan, though I don’t remember the year.
Now in Buenos Aires, she told me about her birth and naming. She was born in Zambia – that was something
about her I hadn’t previously known. Her
older brother was named according to old English tradition: after key members
of his family. When she popped out, her
parents wanted a unique name for her.
They asked friends for their opinions.
One suggestion was Katruschka.
Hence, she was called Katja. Much
more unexpected though is her second name.
(In Africa, it was common as I grew up for black people to take white names, but never the other
way around.) Katja’s parents gave her the name Namasiku,
which in the Lozi language of southwestern Zambia means girl who was born in the night.
How thoroughly interesting!
Katja and I wandered about. We entered and ambled through the Jardín Botánico Carlos Thays.
 |
| (click) |
We also visited the Cemetario de la Recoleta,
resting place of the rich, famous and important, which I’d missed on my visit in 2017.
 |
| (click) |
Mostly, however, we moved from one stationary
position to another, either in an eatery – where I noted that beggars entered
unperturbed and harassed diners for a handout - or my apartment (where I needed to make use of the convenient washing machine).
We blethered about the years since we’d last met and our respective
travels. Katja, like me, is an avid
traveller. Ultimately it was time to
call it a day as I had an ungodly early departure the next day.
(Sun, Jan
26) The plane to Ushuaia was rather empty, which
surprised me. I’d booked a year ago because I was certain the flights would be
hard to find, what with summer being the tourist season for Antarctica. There are so many ships and so many
departures; I’d assumed the flights would be fully occupied.
 |
| I noticed this in the in-flight magazine. Bodega Garzon is the restaurant I visited in the Uruguayan countryside in 2017. This article claims: "500 major international figures of the wine, gastronomy and tourism industries placed Garzon second in the ranking that included 1500 wineries across the world." That would not surprise me judging from my experience of their cuisine. |
A young, incredibly tall taxi driver brought
me to my accommodation. He stopped first
at the wrong house, and then informed me he was turning off the meter before
bringing me to the correct place.
Katja’s plane arrived two hours later, and I went to meet her once she’d
settled. We continued along the same
lines as yesterday in the capital. I popped into the local Carrefour (always so happy when I see their sign) to get some supplies for my stay in
the Airbnb. We walked around, snapping
pictures. I really loved this offbeat town – the
houses were small and cheerfully painted; each building seemed designed by a
different architect with utterly unique shapes; the streets were hilly and
offered the chance to exercise.
From my
place up the slopes of a mountain, I had a marvelous view over part of
the city, the Beagle Channel and the airport.
We’d acquired some wine with which we returned to my apartment to
blether and sip.
 |
| (click) |
(Mon, Jan
27) The following morning both Katja and I had a slow start. I did some laundry, and then returned
to Carrefour to get a few more bits and pieces.
Then Katja and I met up and went first to the souvenir store, where I got a whole host of things to ship
home. The post office was next on the
list; here I was aghast at the cost of shipping; it was too late, however, since I’d already made the purchases and had
neither the space nor the additional weight allowance to take them with
me. (I only thought much later that I might have checked the cost of extra baggage on the airlines….
Oh, well.)
After this, we visited Museo del Fin del Mundo (End of the World Museum) and Antigua Casa de Gobierno (Old Home of the Governor).
 |
| (click) |
 |
| (click) |
Then we stole
across to Information to inquire about a trip we’d take
upon our return from the Frozen Continent, and to the port to ensure we knew
the location for embarking tomorrow. We
happened past a bus-train which mimicked the vehicles that were used to
transport prisoners. Ushuaia, like
Australia, began life as a penal colony.
Many of the original structures here were built by or for these
incarcerated men. This bus-train took us
to two viewing points, whence we could gaze first up and then down at most of
the city. Included with each ticket was a
voucher for a small cup of hot chocolate, and we located the establishment the
minute the train came to its last stop.
 |
| (click) |
It was now time to take a break. Katja went back to her accommodation to nap, while I went to mine to calculate the damage from this morning’s postage. Feeling better, we met again around 5pm. We planned to visit the Parque Yatana. This was not open, so we ambled to another vantage point to gaze out over the small port. Katja was keen to watch as a vessel departed down the Beagle Channel, but alas, the wait was too long and we wandered off.
We walked along the shore until we came upon Ramos
Generales el Almacen, where we had a bite to eat. This quirky place was begun as a general
store by a Lebanese man in the early 1900s.
At some point in its history, it morphed into an eatery. From here it was time to retire for the day.
 |
| (click) |
(Tue, Jan
28) The next day, the allure of the ship was
almost too much to bear. I was up too early again, packed my
bags and booted it once more to Carrefour.
Then I went to meet Katja. She was at a
store to hire clothes for the icy adventure.
I’d already bought clothes in Taiwan
and had lots of layers.
Next we strolled
to the port to catch a glimpse of our vessel, MV Ushuaia, which had
returned from her most recent adventure that very morning. There she floated at the quay. We returned to Ramos Generales for a
bite, and then ambled up the steep hills to my place, where we decided to ride
out the hours before embarking. Finally,
it was time.
