Airport ramblings…
Having to travel for work I often make my way through various airports around Europe and less frequently the rest of the world.
A few weeks ago I was in Istanbul Turkey for a work conference and even though I have visited that mysterious lady many times in the past, every single trip is different in one way or another and at the same times quite the same. What really runs my patience thin though is getting through the Istanbul airport on the way in, more specifically going through the passport control. It is so unorganized; it looks more like a sandpit than waiting for your turn to get a stamp in your passport.
This mess on the “All Passports” entries is created predominately by the Russian visitors, who claw their way through the crowds and the lines by pushing, pulling and stepping on the people waiting patiently their turn, so they can meet up with their friend in the front of the queue. A three people queue in front of me developed to a 15 people queue within seconds.
It’s a waste of time to complain because the officials don’t care and they don’t do anything to solve this problem and the Russian visitor (in their majority women) don’t really care or listen to all the complains. They are in a mission and that is all it matters. If you contemplate to be stubborn and attempt to stand on their way not allowing them to jump the queue they gang up and before you know it you are pushing several feet away quite brutally.
Apparently, that is quite common in Russia, a colleague of mine told me. So, in the end of the day I guess we are dealing with cultural differences. What is normal for one person is quite rude for another.
Funny really, all the globalization and movement of populations around and we still get caught up in the little things. Will this ever change? If it does, it will not be for a long time.
Until then, I will keep going through airports, recording people’s attitudes. Smile, laugh, get frustrated and maybe even cry, but always learn on the way. The airport is like a common whore; people use her and then leave her, pay to be there and rarely they are satisfied with the results. Used, abused and spreading fears, but always necessary to our vanity and mobility…
A few weeks ago I was in Istanbul Turkey for a work conference and even though I have visited that mysterious lady many times in the past, every single trip is different in one way or another and at the same times quite the same. What really runs my patience thin though is getting through the Istanbul airport on the way in, more specifically going through the passport control. It is so unorganized; it looks more like a sandpit than waiting for your turn to get a stamp in your passport.
This mess on the “All Passports” entries is created predominately by the Russian visitors, who claw their way through the crowds and the lines by pushing, pulling and stepping on the people waiting patiently their turn, so they can meet up with their friend in the front of the queue. A three people queue in front of me developed to a 15 people queue within seconds.
It’s a waste of time to complain because the officials don’t care and they don’t do anything to solve this problem and the Russian visitor (in their majority women) don’t really care or listen to all the complains. They are in a mission and that is all it matters. If you contemplate to be stubborn and attempt to stand on their way not allowing them to jump the queue they gang up and before you know it you are pushing several feet away quite brutally.
Apparently, that is quite common in Russia, a colleague of mine told me. So, in the end of the day I guess we are dealing with cultural differences. What is normal for one person is quite rude for another.
Funny really, all the globalization and movement of populations around and we still get caught up in the little things. Will this ever change? If it does, it will not be for a long time.
Until then, I will keep going through airports, recording people’s attitudes. Smile, laugh, get frustrated and maybe even cry, but always learn on the way. The airport is like a common whore; people use her and then leave her, pay to be there and rarely they are satisfied with the results. Used, abused and spreading fears, but always necessary to our vanity and mobility…
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