Thursday October 30, 2014
How to prepare for a 3:00 AM flight? To sleep or not to sleep? And when?
I took a nap between nine and eleven and was packed and checking out of the hotel when the driver appeared in the lobby at midnight.
On the Caucasus tour, we had been fed optimistic tidbits of prosperity and better times by our guides, but the driver in the taxi sang a somber tune. His grandparents, who were born in Van, Turkey, had been victims of the genocide and fled to Yerevan. He witnessed the rise and fall of Soviet communism. Today, he said young Armenians work elsewhere and send money back to their families. When people have enough money, they move to other countries, mainly the US and Russia. I mentioned all the visible construction and new buildings in Yerevan. He replied local Armenians could not afford to buy or rent them. The buildings were vacant, empty shells which project an image of prosperity. It was all superficial with no substance.
I had a two and a half hour wait at modern Zvartnotz Airport. Just as I lined up to board my Etihad Airways flight, I heard a woman sitting in the other aisle snore loudly and gasp for air; her head fell back at a weird angle. A man in a business suit yelled for medical attention as he searched quickly in his carry-on for a small medical kit. He ran to the woman and tried to revive her. The color drain from her face and I thought she had died. A small crowd gathered around her and a stout woman in a medical lab-coat appeared within minutes. As I was about to get my fingerprint registered before boarding, I turned to see the woman awake, but dazed, and still breathing. Relieved, I boarded and found my seat on the airplane.
Etihad Airways is the other airline owned by United Arab Emirates with its hub in Abu Dhabi. The plane was filled with Armenians going to a variety of places, mainly to the U. S. via Abu Dhabi. I sat next to a seventy-nine year old Armenian woman and her twenty- four year old grandson. The young man was taking his grandmother to San Diego, California to be with the woman’s daughter who has lived there for 14 years.
Victoria was nervous, sad to leave her homeland and her friends, but excited and happy to be joining her daughter, grandchildren, and one great grandson. She asked which month I was born and told me, astrologically, I was intelligent and open- minded. Victoria sang her favorite Armenian folk songs to me, softly in my ear. She had finished the university and was an accomplished author with seven published books. Her husband died six years ago and life had not been the same since. She was ready for a new chapter.
I thought about what the driver had said as we drove to the airport. Here were the new immigrants fleeing Armenia for a new life in America.
Abu Dhabi airport at six AM was a hodgepodge of people going places: Los Angeles, Cheng Du, Seychelles, Baku, Ulan Bator, and many other exotic place names.
Village Near Abu Dhabi Airport
Building Another New Terminal
To say the airport is huge would be an understatement. All I could see from the windows were palm trees, sand, modern air conditioned buildings, construction cranes, and hundreds of planes lined on the tarmac. It was supposed to be in the 90s outside. I exchanged a few dollars so I could purchase a bottle of water and felt exhausted from lack of sleep. Here is a photo of the shopping and eating options in the airport:
Abu Dhabi Airport
Photos I took from the plane as it left the Abu Dhabi airport:
The Etihad Airways plane to Almaty, Kazakhstan was partially full; less than fifty people. I had the entire three-seat row to myself so I was able to nap and relax during the four and a half hour flight. Very friendly flight attendants served plov, a popular dish in Central Asia. It was delicious; perhaps the best airline food I ever had. When the pilot, Captain O’Sullivan, made the announcement that we were descending, I opened my shade to see the incredible snow-covered northern Tien Shan mountain range of Central Asia below:
The plane made a soft landing in Almaty, Kazakhstan at 4:30 PM. After traveling for fourteen hours and essentially awake since the previous day, I was totally exhausted.
The Asian woman who spoke no English at Passport Control looked stern and angry, but I was too tired to worry about it. I picked up my suitcase and walked toward the waiting crowd at the reception area. I was very happy to be greeted by a smiling older gentleman holding a green Road Scholar sign. I followed him out to his car and we drove through the streets of Almaty.
My first impression was that Almaty looked a lot like so many former Soviet cities. Snow had settled on the trees and bushes and it was a grey overcast thirty-two degrees outside. The car drove past miles of uninspired cement-block buildings and through much traffic. Forty minutes later, we finally arrived at the Kazzhol Hotel. I checked in, was given my room key and directions to the elevator. I found the second floor room on my own and happily collapsed in a clean and comfortable room.
My Room in Almaty, Kazakstan
