My first time flying as a wheelchair user has gone pretty smoothly up until this point (so far so good).
I am sat in my seat on the plane to Turkey, ears popping continuously for the time being, one child either side of me and my husband is sat with Miss G across the aisle.
We have around a 4 hour flight and then a private transfer arranged to get us from the airport to our hotel.
Travelling through the airport with three children with autism has worried me hugely, let alone the added issues of needing a wheelchair. Recently there seems to have been a lot of publicity around lanyards with flowers on that are supposed to be a magic key almost for people who need extra assistance at an airport. Despite this I know we will all have to queue at some point, all have to go through security and all have to get on a plane when told to and sit where we are told to. And stay on the plane.
We arranged for special assistance when we made our holiday booking, printed out the airports guide for children with autism and watched their video guide online too. We answered questions, allayed fears, and made things as easy for them as we could by suggesting simple clothing and shoes, getting them a new carry on backpack each and leaving plenty of time for their bags to be checked through at home.
When we got to the airport we left our car at valet parking and made our way into the terminal building to find the special assistance desk. A man from there (not wearing the yellow jacket it mentions in the guide) took us to check in, where a lovely, friendly lady weighed our cases, put labels on our suitcases and on my wheelchair, and wished us a good holiday. We then returned to special assistance where two ladies (one in a yellow jacket but one in an orange one) took us through fast track security, bypassed the duty free smelly and bright shopping and showed us where to be when the gate opened forty minutes before our flight time.
The paperwork for the children, and the video guide covered the security procedure clearly for the children. Other than a few nerves about walking through the security arch, it all went smoothly. I had to wait and be patted down by a female worker, but I had expected that. She swabbed my hands and some other people had to remove their shoes. The workers there were all very friendly and helpful and made it as stress free as possible.
Once through into the departure lounge, the search for allergy friendly food and drinks began. We managed to locate fruit and vegetable pots, crisps and drinks in one shop then salads and a coconut yoghurt in a second. Not too bad for us. Miss A even had some soup (which we then carried around for the rest fo the time in said area until we had to get on the plane).
We ate our food, picked up some magazines and found the sensory play area for the children where they could also watch the planes out on the tarmac.
I had booked for Miss A to have a mini manicure at the departure lounge, something for her to look forward to. She set her heart on a light blue colour and they thankfully had just the right shade there. Phew. She did incredibly well sitting still for her manicure whilst the lady chatted to her about her flight and holiday. She has wanted a manicure for a long time but I have been unable to find anywhere that will see a child.
It was then time for us to be taken to the plane. Two special assistance staff appeared and took us through the queues to the plane. I was amazed at how many people there were who didn't move when asked to by the worker. I was glad I had the second worker pushing me so no blame for any bumps or bruises lay with my family.
It turned out there was another lady with a wheelchair on our flight too. We were all taken out to the plane and waited for the baggage truck to move for the ambulift to be able to load us on. The rest of my family climbed the usual stairs to board, whilst we waited. It all went very smoothly with no hassle. I was asked if I could walk to my seat once on board, and embarrassingly said no. It was alright though. They had an aisle wheelchair which I transferred onto and was wheeled to my seat in, with everyone along the way gawping. I didn't care though. I had made it onto the plane to my waiting family.
The flight itself was as smooth as the departure had been. We had already agreed we were going to eat our snacks and buy drinks on the plane, but then someone said they had a nut allergy half way through the food service (seemed odd to me) so we were all asked not to eat anything with nuts in whilst on board. Do I be that one who caused someone to have a reaction? Of course not. With all our allergies and intolerances I know what a nightmare it can be. But also I know if they had a nut allergy I would have told cabin crew when boarding the flight, not when the food trolley had already served half the aircraft. Still, that was that.
The 'are we nearly there yet?' got really really tired after an hour of the flight. I tried encouraging Miss A to watch one of her downloaded films or programmes, listen to music, colour her magic colouring book, sleep, draw, read her new magazine..... Nope. Nothing I suggested was an option until she decided it for herself (PDA to a tee). It felt like a very long flight.
My seat was meant to be by the window so others in my row would be able to get out to use the toilet. Mr J wouldn't move when I boarded though so I was sat in the middle of the three seats. This meant he had to literally camber over me to get to and from the toilet. Great. Plus he took great joy in leaning forward, thereby blocking the entire window with his head. This constantly annoyed Miss A.
When we got to the airport in Turkey, I was last to leave the plane as I waited in my seat for the staff to come and help me get down the aisle in an aisle chair. Two men appeared to do this for me, taking me directly to my waiting wheelchair. Then through the passport checks (where the maze of ribbon barrier and posts were moved away for me) and out to our private transfer.
The driver drove so carefully and slowly, dodging every pot hole, bump and crawling over speed bumps to avoid any pains. I was glad of this but also wanted to get to the hotel.
As a side note, we were on a three lane road, the equivalent of an A road in the UK, and there were children rollerblading down the hard shoulder incredibly fast, heading directly for a pulled over lorry. Then a car passed us with a lady sat in the front passenger seat holding a toddler on her lap. They think nothing of a family of 5 getting in an average taxi. The safety standards on the roads here are very very lax compared to at home.
Since arriving here in Turkey, nothing has been too much trouble for anyone local. I have noticed that people talk to me rather than to the person pushing me here. They have a lot of respect for my husband, having seen him getting me drinks and plates of food, and I have to only look at something for someone to appear from nowhere to get it for me.
I have been lifted in my chair to get up steps, slowed down on downward slopes to the beach and had people make me drinks without me asking the chefs have pushed me through the dining hall for me to select food and waiters have moved chairs, fetched food and drinks, all without me asking. In fact, often with me saying I am OK.
We ventured into a local bazaar yesterday. I had researched it before getting here. I knew where and when it was, how long it would take to walk or drive and what the streets were like. So I was fully expecting the narrow cobbled streets, the hundreds of local stalls selling their home made wears from food to shawls, lemonade to jewellery. Whilst I am saddened by my food sensitivities, I think in this case it is a benefit to me because I loved baclava. The crunchiness combined with the sweet honey... Yummy. But now I have to stick to dipping fruit in honey instead. I don't know how my husband has resisted the baclava here.
Our taxi to the bazaar arrived and the driver put two seats down at the back for the wheelchair, waited patiently for us to all get in, then loaded the wheelchair for us. The same happened when we arrived five minutes later, and on our return journey too. Here it feels as though they just see a wheelchair as an extension of the person who they will help however they can. They don't seem to view it as a problem or an added difficulty that needs fixing.
The bazaar is a local market for local people on the whole. It isn't the typical tourist market where men try to sell you jewellery and leather whilst plying you with apple tea. We found mainly women on the stalls, selling home made goods. We found lots of hand made jewellery stalls and a lady who crocheted clothes and toys. This was the ideal opportunity to pick up gifts for those back at home.
A quick wander around the town after the bazaar saw us at a marina and buying candyfloss for the children before catching a taxi back to the hotel, laden with gifts and goodies.
Our best find was the cafe where the owner spoke pretty good English. He really made the effort to make us all feel welcome, especially the children. He even explained ayran to me when I asked, chatted about where we are from and moved furniture around for the wheelchair to get in without us even asking or trying.
It was so hot down in the bazaar that the cool outdoor pools of the hotel were calling our names as we sat down for a quick light lunch before answering their calls with a splash and a sunbathe.
I have mastered the art of getting into the pool from my wheelchair and back again now. It isn't my usual wheelchair though and I have removed the footplates to make it easier to turn around and manouvure in general, but I can do it. I have hurt my back, shoulders and left arm doing this all week but there is no way I was just going to sit there and not get into the pool.
It is our last evening here now, we are being picked up tea time tomorrow for our journey home again, and I feel sad. Sad because of the weather changes and how beautiful it is here, but mostly because I know I am going back to living in one room again and being spoken over instead of spoken to.
