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 | | Gin is Cheaper in Aleppo! |
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| By Paula Silvester |
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I should have known that Friday, the 14th of December was a doomed day from the start. The lunches at the school where I work were late, causing me to be concerned about whether we would be home in time for the taxi to the airport. After school, there was one thing after another that seemed to delay us but, nevertheless, we were ready for the taxi when it came at 5.00pm. I was taking the children for a short pre-Christmas break to Aleppo, in Syria, to visit friends who had left Baku in the summer. As a treat for their birthdays, I had paid extra to fly business class on the short two hour direct flight. We arrived at the airport in good time, and found we were the only ones there for the flight. Firstly, we had to hang around for 15 minutes or so, while the one check-in desk operator sorted out our business class tickets and then laboriously wrote individual cards for our entry to the business class lounge. By this time, I was ready for a warm seat, a cup of tea and a chance to sit in comfort. As we left the check-in desk, the operator shouted after us that the business class lounge probably wouldn't be open, so we would have to sit where we usually sit, anyway!!!The next problem came at the passport desk, where they were not going to let us through, because we didn't have visas for Aleppo.
I patiently explained that I had applied for visas a month ago through our travel agents, but as there is no Syrian embassy in Baku, we had been told by the embassy in Moscow that visas were readily available at the Syrian airport for $50. This had also been confirmed the day before, again through the travel agents. Eventually, they let us go through and we sat alone in the lounge area for another two hours. By 7.30pm, the actual time of departure, about 16 people had turned up for the flight and a couple more were still arriving. At 8.00pm, we were taken downstairs and put on an old smelly bus, filled with fumes, and driven across the runway to a small jet that was waiting for us. Everyone got off the bus, which then drove off and left us standing on the runway in the freezing cold.
We waited there for half an hour, as the ground crew investigated some 'technical fault' with the plane. The children didn't have any coats and were soon shivering with the cold. Just as we were beginning to pass out from the cold, we were allowed onto the plane, although by now we just wanted to go home again. Going 'business class' didn't give us any preferential treatment, as we were pushed to the back, while all the other passengers fought their way up the stairs to get on. Inside, the plane was like something from a museum and certainly did not inspire confidence in us. The economy class seats were squashed together and the seatbacks were not fastened to anything. The business class area was just like a set of train seats, two facing two, with a table in the middle and a partition behind. The seats didn't recline in any way, and like the ones at the back, they also weren't fastened to anything, so that when the plane jerked or braked, the seat backs all shot forward and lay flat quite bizarre. There was no safety briefing, but then again, there weren't any life jackets under any of the seats, anyway. The luggage rack was just an open shelf, so things tended to drop off onto the people underneath. To call the stewardess, you rang the buzzer, which sounded like a shop doorbell. The toilets were at the back and had no flush mechanism, everything just went and stayed where it landed in the bowl. We had our own stewardess, who spoke a little English, but our only other concession for 'business class' was a tablecloth on the table. The food and everything else were just the same as offered to everyone else, and it was pretty awful. We arrived in Aleppo an hour late, at 9.00pm, and this time, managed to get to the front of the queue. In the airport, I handed my passports to the visa official, at the very same time as did everyone else behind me.
He flicked through them, asked where the visas were and then gave them back to me, proceeding to see to everyone else. Of course, no one spoke any English, so eventually, when someone came, I tried to explain why we didn't have a visa. They just couldn't understand why I hadn't travelled to Moscow to get a visa and kept repeating, 'no visa, you cannot come into Aleppo'. My friend had suggested I mention 'Icarda', the school where they work, assuring me that this usually does the trick. It did stir them to look at the passports again and one official went away to make phone calls. An hour later, after standing around while the airport emptied and feeling very cold and frustrated, we were given the passports back and told that we had to leave and go back to Baku. Of course, I was not amused, but the visa official was adamant that I either got back on the plane or stayed in the airport for one week to leave on the next flight. By now, the children were in tears, too, and my heart was palpitating so fast it was hurting my rib cage. There was a very nice Mexican man, also in the same situation, who spoke a little Arabic. Eventually, they let him have a visa. He tried his best to help us get ours, too. Another airport official went off to look for my friends who were waiting for us outside, and once they had been located, I thought all would be well. They were eventually brought into the exchange office so that we could see them through the glass partition. They phoned everyone they could think of to try and sort the mess out. The visa official had taken away my passports and given them to the ground staff for us to be taken away to the flight. It was apparently waiting to take off and wouldn't be allowed to go until we were on it. The ground staff man was saying that we couldn't go because we didn't have tickets for the return flight. The visa official was insisting we go. Everyone was becoming extremely upset, but no one seemed to care. Our passports came back eventually with a statement from Damascus saying that it was impossible that the Moscow embassy had told me that I could get a visa in the Syrian airport and, therefore, I was lying about the whole thing. It was just so utterly upsetting, frustrating and downright ridiculous. The Mexican had been sold a visa in the airport and all the Azeri people had a special paper that also allowed them to buy visas there, so why not us? The explanation eventually offered was that there wasn't a Syrian embassy in Mexico or Azerbaijan, however, there was one in London. Therefore, I could have obtained a visa from London!When it became apparent that I really wasn't going to be allowed to stay, I tried to pass some Christmas presents through to my friend. She managed to get the few cards I had, but the rest was thrown back at me, as if I were trying to smuggle things through. By this time, the ground staff official was tearing my tickets out and bungling my bags onto a trolley. A few of the other airport officials were trying to persuade the visa official to sell us our visas, but no such luck. The plane was waiting and we had to be on it. As a last resort, I asked how much I had to pay to get through, but it would seem that this was not up for negotiation. So, after a tearful goodbye, we ended up on the plane again.
The plane sat there on the runway for half an hour more, while we tried to sleep. By now, it was 2.00am, and we were shattered. My heart had just stopped thumping, when we were told to get off the plane again and go back into the terminal. No reason was given. Once inside the warm building, we met with the very helpful ground staff official who spoke good English. He told us Baku airport was closed due to bad weather and we'd have to stay in the airport for a couple more hours. One good thing, there was a very nice duty free shop. I found that I could buy gin at a much-reduced price for my husband and chocolates for the children. Two hours later, we were back on the airplane and on our way to Baku. The economy section of the plane was crammed to capacity with bags and boxes and packages, so that every seat was taken.
The lights were left on the whole flight, so there was little chance of sleep. Our seats did not recline in any way, and there were no pillows available, so it was impossible to find a comfortable position in which to relax. I did manage to obtain a couple of blankets from the stewardess, who did her best to try and make us feel a bit better. Upon arriving in Baku, a policeman came onto the plane and demanded our passports. Our luggage was, at this point, in the cabin with us, but as we were sent down the steps, I was expected to carry everything myself. Neither the policeman, nor any of the ground staff, made any effort to help me with the two suitcases as I struggled to heave them down the steps and onto the waiting bus. It seemed as though we were being branded as criminals, as well as smugglers and liars. Once in the passport centre, we were told to wait, as again, the entire planeload of people went through before us. We all just sat, feeling totally exhausted, until we were eventually called through without any more problems. With our luggage, we set off to join the long, long queue from the Aleppo flight, all trying to get their huge packages through the scanning machine. Of course, we were stopped, as we now didn't have any luggage tags on the cases and, therefore, had no proof that our bags were ours. We had to wait until we could find someone to come and explain what had happened. We finally arrived home by taxi at 7.00am, and found ourselves locked out of the house. Luckily, I had my phone and was able to phone my husband to come and let us in. It had been a most horrendous ordeal. I had tried to do everything according to the book and make the trip an enjoyable experience for the children. I paid $1300 to deliver three Christmas cards and bring back a cheap bottle of gin, and all this in the space of just 14 hours! As a pre-Christmas activity, this is not to be recommended. I would have expected some form of compensation for all our traumas but no one will accept responsibility for the visa error.
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