My flight from Istanbul departs just a few minutes late, at 10:30, heading to Buenos Aires with a passenger and refueling stop in São Paulo.
It’s a long, very long journey. During the flight to São Paulo, I watch three movies, some CNN, and BBC news.
No problems until Buenos Aires.
First, I saw a man with a sign bearing my name, and he told me I needed to retrieve my luggage and check it in again tomorrow. At Arlanda, I was told not to worry about my luggage until Ushuaia. Now, I have a bad feeling about having to pay again for baggage!
The other problem is a very inefficient passport control, more than 1 hour before my turn. The officer, a young girl with purple streaks in her hair, asks me…
– Where I live in Buenos Aires?
I tell her that I find it unnecessary since my connecting flight will depart at 06:35 in the morning.
– How long will you stay in Argentina?
I explain my trip, and it’s impossible to know exactly.
She asks me to follow her into the office where three officials work in front of computers. She hands over my passport and my printed online ticket to a bearded man in shabby clothes.
After twenty minutes, he starts asking me the same questions I’ve already answered. He also wants to know my hotel in Ushuaia. I gave him the name and address, and he went back to his computer to enter some information.
After that, I got my passport and online ticket back. I take my luggage and head to the X-ray machine. I also find out where to check in tomorrow and then a place for a simple meal and rest.
Sexteen hours on a plain and I’m tired
//The Global Cyclist1 1726