It’s not just the destination, it’s the journey, right?? - part 2

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Saturday morning had only just arrived, and we had an uncivilized super-early wake-up and a speedy drive to the airport by our host, who drove like he was Fangio, but at 3.30am it didn’t matter much. Thankfully we’d managed to sleep fairly well before our 3am alarm, so we didn’t feel too befuddled with all the security wrangling at Athens airport. I did wonder how a traveller would fare if they didn’t speak or read Greek or English though. “Can we take water through?” “Yes” (pointing to toilets and gesturing in a drinking motion). “No we have some already, can we take it through?” “No”. Do we need to tip it out?” “Yes”. Okay then. We tipped it out, in the toilets.

Our short flight from Athens to Istanbul reminded me a lot of flying from Melbourne to Hobart. Get in, sit down, shut up, eat your brekkie, time to land. We watched the sun rise over Turkey, read a bit of Turkish news in the English-language newspaper, and suddenly they were clearing away and it was time to land over pretty Istanbul, which by the way (showing our prior ignorance here) is on a tiny spit of land between the Sea of Marmara (inlet from the North Aegean Sea) to the south and the Black Sea to the north. No suprise then that we came in to land over water.

Istanbul airport is a sea of Turkish Airlines livery, red tails with their distinctive logo as far as the eye can see, with only the occasional interloper. Turkish Airlines claim that they fly to more countries than any other airline, and if this board is anything to go by they just may be right.


The morning in Istanbul was chilly but mostly sunny. This airport leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to cleanliness and coffee (think: Turkish coffee disguised in a Starbucks cup), but at least it was only a short transit stop.

The security checks before boarding our flight to Israel were a little over-the-top - flick through and scrutinise passport (where have you been before now), shoes off and checked, arms out, pat down (women by women, men by men), open bags for inspection. I was oh-so-tempted to take a photo of hubby being frisked by the security personnel, but I didn’t want to risk being rugby-tackled myself, having my phone confiscated, and being forever banned from flying to Tel Aviv with Turkish Airlines (or any other airline for that matter). Clearly they take their security seriously for flights into Israel. And so I refrained.

Breakfast number 1 - not your usual scrambled eggs and potato gems!

Second breakfast, much the same!

Again, the flight was quite quick, less than 2 hours. We ate a second breakfast, almost the same as the first, because, well why not? This time there was no tracking through Iran, but straight down through Turkey, across the Mediterranean to Tel Aviv. I love watching the onboard maps - Where are we? And where are we now?

Coming into Tel Aviv was a bit surreal - flying over the Promised Land, the  “land of milk and honey”. At least it was green, and not disappointingly dry and barren looking, although I’m sure we’ll see plenty of that in the days to come. We’re here, in Israel, for the first time, and that thought alone is amazing.

Airport processing was much easier than expected - no questions asked - and we were through customs and out into Ben Gurion Airport. Time to get some New Israeli Shekels (NIS) and pick up the hire car for our first day of independent travel in Israel.

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