Reading through my little steps stories around the Archipelago or abroad makes me realize that I frequently shared bright sides of travelling. The bright sides were also my honest feeling during or after travelling, however some stories were kept untold. I didn’t intend to hide it, just when I already arrived at the destination, I tended to forget the previous unfortunate events. It was fading away. Disappearing slowly.
Now, I try to recollect those events, which mostly happened before travelling (preparation, visa, etc), during flights, or transiting from one airport to another. I recollect it all with the help of my photographs’ collection.
The most memorable one was my 5 hours planned layover in Teheran (IKA), Iran. I felt excessive anxiousness (help me finding a better description here, please). The time was sort of too short, and at the same time felt like forever.
My package of cheaper flight was scheduled to transit at three different airports, before my final destination, Barcelona. Besides the price, I took that kind offering for my romance dream for having a glimpse sight of three different countries in between. I aimed for the short sweet transit memories, just like the other pioner globetrotters had.
And of course, it didn’t worked the way I dreamt it, especially when I was failure to plan it right, even at the very earliest moment.
I got what I deserved.
Whether I failed to understand the “Terms and Conditions” of my flights from Jakarta to Kuala Lumpur, and then Teheran (mmmm, guess the low carrier flight now) or it was the airlines’ fault; I was deeply shocked.
I queued up at the immigration to collect my passport together with the other transferred passengers and found out that my passport came back to me without the baggage tag, which informed each passenger that her/his baggage was safely arrived all the way from their first departure to Teheran.
I was shocked more, when I asked the officer about it, and all I got was a simple short unsatisfying answer that I had no baggage listed with me. That was all.
As a person who was about to start her sweet romanticized mid-term break and get almost her everything that she had, inside that unknown-existence baggage, the sound of that simple heartless announcement from the officer was like a nightmare.
Besides announcing the way to our transferred room and to wait there until the further announcement of the boarding time of our next flight from them, I really had no idea what to do there.
I tried to find a little bit approachable officer, however no one showed up for minutes. More minutes passed, I got no clue. Another minute passed, I saw few officers and approached them and asked the same question. They answered more They would give extra effort to find mine.
At first, I thought my 5 hours layover in Teheran was long, until I heard that news. It felt like a very short one. Too short to decide what to do and where to start. Meanwhile, at the same time, I felt like forever waiting the second announcement from the immigration officers about the “un-decided missing baggage”, as they promised to re-check it all again.
More minutes passed.
All I could do was randomly asked random question to any random person inside the transferred, just in case I got friend who had similar condition with me.
I got friend in pain though, however we still had no clue what to do, it was really a transferred room with nothing much we could do, except waiting or getting our VoA, which both inconvenience to do. It wasn’t convenience to wait that long without a certainty, neither convenience to get VoA and roaming around Teheran in limited time and without a certainty.
I tried my best to be calm during my five hours waiting without certainty and no authorized staff to ask, and it didn’t happened.
I tried to be calm when a self-claimed local gorgeous lady approached my anxious self was standing anxiously close to toilet’s door, and then asked what was happened around because it was not a usual sigh for her seeing the quite messy transferred room. Even though the lady didn’t seem to have the relation with the immigration, I still hopelessly explained what had happened to me and few people there. She tried to comfort me by saying that I needed to trust the officers since they could handle it.
I didn’t feel comfort anyway.
More minutes had passed, I finally gave in. I tried to look a place to slouch and lean on until the officers came again and announced the boarding time of our next flight.
When the officers were adding more baggage tagging to each passenger except me, I started to realize that I might end up having nothing, but the tote bag that had been draped on my shoulder since my first departure.
I was so exhausted to think more or to express more emotions, so I got only two options while walking to the boarding room; stopped there and find my baggage or continued to the boarding room, and then ride the next flight.
I chose the second one.