It is all about comfort zones. Surely there is nothing less stressful than sitting quietly at home, surrounded by familiar things, reading a book and just pottering about. Yet for all of the pleasure that I derive from these mundane activities I voluntarily put myself into a position where I know that I am going to be assailed with all sorts of worries, problems and stressors. In effect I am taking myself out of my comfort zone.

Before even stepping foot in an airport the stress begins. We are going to countries that don’t have English as their first language. Despite the wide availability of guide books and useful web sites at some point in the planning you begin to encounter a language barrier. Take for example the phone call I made to our hotel in Santorini to provide our credit card number (they wanted us to email it, but there was no way I was going to do something that stupid). I dialled the implausibly long phone number and the phone was answered in Greek.

I tried to speak slowly and carefully and English, but I didn’t want to convey the impression that I somehow doubted the intelligence of the woman on the other end of the line. I explained that I wanted to confirm our booking and give my credit card number. While this seemed to go well enough the trouble began when I began to doubt that she understood who I was, more particularly when I tried to tell her my name. English speaking people have trouble enough with my surname but when a listener who is used to an alphabet in which some of the letters of my name don’t exist is trying to transcribe it…at the conclusion of the very trying and embarrassing conversation the hotelier apologised for her English. I told her not to worry as it sure beat my Greek. I am still not sure if she got the joke.

Other things that cause stress prior to departure are, in no particular order, foreign currency, visas, travelling with medication, plugs and electricity, underwear, hotel connections, suitcases, cats, getting to the airport, what to pack, credit cards, if all the things you organised on the internet are really organised and travel insurance. More worrying are the things not on the list that ought to be there. You don’t know that they aren’t there because you haven’t thought of them. So, yes, I am worried about things that I don’t know to worry about.

Arrival at the airport only makes things a lot worse. Once there it is too late for all of the things that you have forgotten. Worse still airports seem designed to make you both tense and dehumanised. The modern psychosis of security and its accompanying theatre give airport officials a license to be as rude as they like. They bark orders to you as though you are a simpleton and have the power to do all sorts of things should you in some way object. Humour is definitely not encouraged and is likely to result in imprisonment.

It is a shame really because I actually like flying. I like the fact that you can get into this large room full of people and hours later be in a totally different place where the people have different customs, cultures and ways of speaking. I am remarkably, for me anyway, unperturbed  by the fact that I am going to be visiting places where English is not the first language. The ubiquity of English and its status as the de facto international language means that most people speak enough to be able communicate with an English speaking person.

Having English as a first language means that for must of us we don’t need a second. I find it faintly embarrassing that I am unable to speak in another tongue. Sure I can say a few things, badly, in French. I know some Spanish and even some Welsh, but left to my own devices I wouldn’t get very far. To me it seems somehow chauvinistic for us to expect people to be able to speak English in their own country.

I have absolutely no idea what it will be like once we are on the ground in Turkey. To me Turkey seems so exotic that I am sure that will manage to innocent trample all over their customs and generally make a fool of myself. I am acutely aware too that Turkey is a Muslim country, no matter how secular the government. Even though I have read how lovely the people are and what I great place it is I will still feel like a clumsy infidel.

Only five days until the big off.

In just over a week Kath and I are flying to Turkey to begin our own Odyssey and I am very excited, particularly since on top of being in one of cradles of civilisation we are going to be married on the Greek island of Santorini, overlooking the same blue Agean that once thronged with warlike black ships of the ancients.

We are spending a few days in Istanbul visiting the famous mosques and the Grand Bizaar and then going to Selcuk to visit Ephesus the great Roman city before travelling south to Bodrum. From Bodrum we will catch a ferry to Kos and then another to Santorini. After 8 days and a wedding there we fly to Athens for one night, long enough to see the Acropolis, and then home.

Kath has rather brilliantly arranged everything and so, things going according to plan, we should have all of our hotels, ferries and flights ready and waiting for us.

I plan to take thousands of photos, eat loads of interesting food, smoke a few hookahs, be mesmerised by immersion in totally foreign cultures and feel the sense of being a tourist that Bill Bryson describes as feeling like a five-year old again.

Needless to say I will be blogging our trip regularly, so stay tuned.