This lot are opportunists
Onwards to Tashkent, Uzbekistan!
Airport Lounge Chaos, the game of proper travelling is back.
The last time I travelled long haul was pre-pandemic. Back in December 2019, I boarded a plane to Colombo for a three-week trip to Sri Lanka. Ahh, that trip felt like a lifetime ago.
Although I’ve been lucky to continue to travel ‘abroad’ during and post pandemic, it has all been ‘lowkey’ to Europe. I don’t think I fully appreciated the difference between short and long haul travels.
Long haul, is, well, a different game altogether. I was soon to find out.
After two years and ten months, I was about to experience a whole new part of the world, a collection of countries known as the Stans, in a region called Central Asia. The absolute opposite of Europe, and everything that feels familiar.
From my arrival at Istanbul Airport, to walking up to my boarding gate 11E, to the first sight of the Uzbekistan culture from the airport departures, I could sense the chaos waiting.
At the entrance to the boarding gate, as I handed over my boarding pass and passport, the Uzbekistan airline staff found great curiosity in me. Up until now, I was too busy with my own apprehension as I was travelling hand luggage only – cue ‘have I packed too much anxiety’ - to think that I would be a curiosity.
Twice they asked, wide-eyed, if I was intending to fly to Tashkent, the destination name on the boarding pass. It seemed what I would describe as a dumb question. I smiled and mumbled “Yes”, slightly bewildered at their reaction. Although Uzbekistan isn’t high on the UK travel destination list, I knew I wasn’t the first or last to board a plane in Istanbul heading to the capital, Tashkent, with a British passport. Sometimes people’s reactions baffle me. I felt this was an overreaction towards my identity, it definitely added to the mysticism of the incoming destination.
They explained not many passengers with my passport travel to their capital. I smiled, trying to rack my brain and bring a glimpse of their capital into my mind. To reassure myself that I wasnt flying into the middle of nowhere, but into a capital with a population of two million.
As I sat at the gate, minding my own business, what unfolded was pretty fascinating, and turned out to be what I would experience in day-to-day life in Central Asia. Organised chaos and bold, brazen behaviour.
As each passenger arrived up to the boarding gate, they had their luggage weighed on what looked like a weight watchers scale. Yes, one you would stand on to get weighed. I managed to avoid this weigh in system as the airline worker who seemed fascinated with my travel plans, waved me through like a treasured guest to Uzbekistan – he even shoo’d away his colleague who was keen to weigh my backpack. I was relieved, my carry on bag crammed full of clothes for my two week trip may have tipped the scales. The weigh-in team seemed ruthless, on the hunt for anyone who exceeded the rules. I was silently happy to walk past with no financial harm.
I’m sure the airline carry-on rules were pretty clear - one item weighing maximum 8kg, and adhering to the standard measurements we are all used to, and one small item, like a handbag.
Simple really.
It soon became clear these guidelines were lost to the locals, who systematically, and wildly at times, appeared at the gate with four, five and more bags, and, even bolder, boxes. Huge boxes. Bags of all shapes and sizes, filled to the seams.
Another means of luggage that seemed to be a number one favourite with those embarking on the Tashkent flight was, what looked like, a massive bin bag, filled to the brim with their shopping haul from Istanbul. Tied at the top.
Most passengers would brazenly wander up to the tiny weight scales, for the airline staff to dramatically pile high their shopping haul, before pointing at the other bags scattered around them, to pile them onto the scales, then to point to the weight, then towards the makeshift counter where they would be charged.
I was exhausted watching, tense at the potential showdown, played out in front of us all.
The additional charge would cause a massive surprise to the owner of the multiple bags, and boxes. I have no idea if the massive surprise was genuine or part of a ‘how can we get our Istanbul haul onto the plane without an extra charge’ game.
I sat in awe, and amazement at how this all played out. It seemed my carry on luggage – one bag, securely packed – was nothing compared to this lot. It was the most low key item of carry-on luggage boarding this plane.
One family seemed to passionately disagree with the airline luggage policy and blankly refused to pay. There was a standoff, which seemed odd since there could only be one winner – the airline. Eventually, the family left the boarding gate, with all their luggage. More boldness.
The boxes seemed to confuse me the most. It is impossible to hide a box, especially the size they were trying to slide through the bag check. All these bags and boxes would eventually need to be pushed into the overhanging storage area on the plane. It isn’t like a box can be squished into a space it isn’t designed for.
I cast my mind back to being in my flat in Scotland, googling the dimensions and check-in luggage rules for the airlines I would be travelling with, before finding all the bags and backpacks I owned to establish which ones meet the airline rules. I’m pretty sure the locals didn’t follow the same due diligence.
To many this would be a stressful scene, they would even get annoyed at the levels of rule-breaking happening. I sat and chuckled mumbling to myself “This lot are opportunists”. These are my kind of people, they aren’t restricted by rules, a nod to their culture. And this is travelling, you live and learn alongside those that call your new destination home. It appeared wildness was waiting.