Come fly with me

So after 3 years of avoiding Syrian Air in my numerous trips back home, I finally summoned my courage and booked my holiday on a Syrian Air flight.
I have to be honest; the only reason for flying with them was the price! I’ve already travelled twic to Syria this year (wonder why?!) and consumed my travelling & holiday allowance for 2007 and they really had a very good price, £290 rtn!

So came the day and after a nervous waiting at Heathrow with flights being cancelled left right and centre due to extremely heavy fog covering the airport we were finally allowed on the plan.

Now, I must tell you that the last time I flew SA, I ended up in a seat with a broken tray and behind a chair with a broken back in a plane full of crying babies and smelling of curry! Not at all an enjoyable flight at the time; so this time around, I was pleasantly surprised to see nice wide seats with decent legroom in the compact Boeing 747 I’m flying.

My luck was on a role, I landed a window seat with an empty one next to it and a nice heart consultant on the aisle…
Settling happily in my chair, I was feeling pretty upbeat till a horrible odour drifted towards me, I was a safe distance away from the loo so I couldn’t pinpoint a source until further scent analysis narrowed it down to bad breath (not something I can blame on SA).
Fiddling with the overhead air controls, I managed to create barrier of some kind thank God and I nestled contently in my seat until it was time for the famous, all too scary, meal time.

Beforehand, let me tell you that I’m not a picky person food wise, as my diet consists mainly of microwavable meals and takeaways, to the disgust of my parents and acceptance of my partner, nonetheless, there is a minimum level that airport/plane food has to reach for me to be able to consume. So you can understand that I had a dilemma in choosing to eat or not to eat on the plane and in the case of the former, which of the day’s two options would I go for!

By the time the trolley came by, I was already halfway though writing this blog and I felt that to be just in my assessment, I will have to try the food!
Gathering my courage and mastering the friendliest smile I have, I dared to ask the steward which was nicer, the meat or the chicken (ps: isn’t chicken meat as well?). The wondering surprised gaze I was given would take pages to describe, something neither you nor I have the time for. The reply that I received was even more mind boggling “how should I know?”
Met with that answer I quickly asked of the chicken (at least a defined meat) and prayed for safety!
Two pots of salad, 1 bun (men were being treated to 2!) a tab of butter and another of cheese and the mysterious main course wrapped up in foil.
I started with the salad (not bad, a bit too much mayo but at least fresh ingredients), 2nd in line was salad no 2, a shrimp cocktail thingy (nice, 1000 island souse and a lemon), so starters got an ok 6 out of 10!
Then came the main course, I was unwrapping the plate wondering if I will get the traditional rice, or be faced with the more hip (and potentially scary) pasta! Surprise, surprise it was neither! It was potato balls!! Next to it a breaded piece of chicken and some boiled vegetables (how unusual?!).
Reaching for the salt & pepper sachets, I realized that Syrian air is a caring carrier; they worry about their passengers’ health and knowing that the poor travellers’ blood pressure was probably sky-high by mealtime, they provide the smallest sachets ever, barely enough to give the impression of salt in the food!

A sigh, and I turn my attention the chicken swimming in oil residue, I ‘skinned’ it and made do without the soggy shell altogether! At the halfway mark through the chicken (2 bits later) I discovered a micro amount of cheese in the middle and was able to identify the mystery dish as chicken Kiev!!!

Didn’t even think of trying the dissert (a chocolate thing covered with dark syrup) and I waited for the drinks tray to come by to order a very large tea to help me survive my past ordeal.

Having ran out of things to reads and still having two hours of fly time, I reached out to the pocket in front of me and picked the various printouts there. In my hand were the safety instruction sheet and a promotional pamphlet about different things in Syria.

The safety sheet was your bog-standard one for an Airbus A320 so I put that aside and turned to the pamphlet intrigued to see what is being promoted to happy travellers to Syria! Well, restaurants, lots of restaurants which, after your meal, wont look so appetizing; shopping centres (a recent craze in Syria) and at the end, what I considered my personal cherry on top of the whole ‘fly Syrian Air experience’ cake, SA’s own version of a frequent flyer program! Oh, how I looked with parental pride at this new development by our flag carrier. Of course as a frequent traveller to Syria (as most people using SA) I was very interested until I realized that unless you travel 8 times a year or 4 times two years in a role you wont get anything of much value, at least nothing you wont be able to get if you know someone at the check in desk or at the company (maybe they should rename it to No-Wastah program?)

The one thing that stood up, the sugaring on top of the cherry on the cake was a one liner on the 2nd page detailing the program. Initially I thought that it was a translation error only to discover that it was written exactly the same in both Arabic and English!
So what was that shocked me so much? Well simply the fact that “as a silver card holder you are entitled to a free ticket a year that you can give to a family member, which include your parents, children and WIFE”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

See, for Syrian air, there are no female frequent flyers, the idea is just inconceivable; or at least, a woman flying 8 times a year (or 4 times two years in a role) will, for sure, not have a husband to pass that extra ticket to! A woman will only be so pleased with getting one handout ticket a year from her husband!!

Aaaah, returning home never fails to remind me of how well regarded women are in my beloved Syria! But again, in the country of ‘Bab el Harah’ 1, 2 and 3 scheduled for next Ramadan, why should I be surprised?

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PS1:
For those of you wondering, the famous Syrian fly that is a specialty of Syrian airways did accompany us on the flight and is, according to accredited sources, a paid employee of SA and a member of the workers union there.

PS2:
If you’re flying SA, DO NOT take an aisle seat unless you’re willing to accept the risk of being burned by hot tea passed over your head without a trey and to put your hopes in the steady hand of the steward and the passengers next to you.

PS3:
You didn’t read wrong, nor did I go crazy, the safety page was for an Airbus A320 and we were flying a Boeing 747! For those of you who might wonder what’s the difference, well, the latter has 2 exists compared to 3 in the former to name one difference! I leave it to the more knowledgeable to detail further ones.
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Post PS:
I only used the word ‘Steward’ and not ‘Stewardess’ simply because it would be a more accurate description of the staff serving our beloved plane!

Home Sweet Home

Just a quick note to all of you to wish you a happy Eid. I'm spending these days back home so I can't access the blog properly and approving comments and posting new blogs isn't easy so forgive any delays and will be back once I'm in London again.

Salaam to all

SiL

In The Arms of The Angel

Spend all your time waiting for that second chance
For the break that will make it ok
There's always some reason to feel “not good enough�
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction, oh beautiful release
Memories seep from my veins
They may be empty and weightless, and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

In the arms of an Angel, fly away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here

So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back
The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference, escaping one last time
It's easier to believe
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees

In the arms of an Angel, far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
In the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here