Imagine this: Traveling from New York to Miami by a combination of train and car (just over 30 hours), then flying from  Miami to L.A. (just under 5 hours)—when all you could have done was take a 5 hour and 45 minute direct flight from New York to L.A.

This is what our international employee, Baris, is dealing with right now.  Due to air travel’s global disruption from Iceland’s volcanic ash cloud, Baris’ only reasonable option getting home to Istanbul from London is equivalent to the situation described above.  The effects from this now 6-day pandemonium was described by Baris as “Post 9/11. Last time I witnessed something of this magnitude was post 9/11.” He has been stranded in London since last Thursday, but is currently en route to Paris via train.  He has thankfully shared with us his chaotic schedule to get home from this unfavorable situation:

Operation “Get to Spain” - France, Germany, Switzerland, Holland and all surrounding countries are in the same situation as there are no flights departing/leaving, so the only closest City/Country open to air traffic is Spain and Southern Italy—as the ashes can’t travel that far.

1. Hop on the soonest available train to Paris (Monday night), where I will stay 1 night
2. Rent a car (since all trains are booked) and drive 9 hours to Barcelona
3. Catch a Tuesday evening flight to Istanbul from Barcelona, where I will finally arrive home around 2am Wednesday night!

Cost: Approximately $1,200

Traveling around the world via land transportation: Priceless

We wish Baris a safe trip home, and maybe even a post describing your travels? For more information regarding the Iceland volcanic ash cloud, click here.

Priceless Road Story by Baris Vural

I promised you a personal road story on my last blog post about international business challenges.  Well, here goes…

A rather comical journey took place a few weeks ago when I was in India for meetings with an NGO delegation from Myanmar (Burma).   A day prior to my departure, we had arranged a taxi to the airport. It was supposed to come at 7:30am, but when my watch showed 8:30am, and after many failed attempts of getting another car (apparently it was a public holiday and very few taxis actually operated), I started asking questions.  “Do you know where my taxi is?” The response I got was, “Sir, a taxi will be here shortly.” But then an hour later I was told it would be “very difficult to get a taxi.” After I told the receptionist I might miss my flight, he offered to take me to the airport himself.  So trying to demonstrate patience, I said, “Yes, so let’s get going.” A couple minutes later, a flashy red motorcycle showed up in front of the revolving doors and the very same guy at the reception was now telling me, “Sir, hop on please, we’re running late to your flight.”

This is one of those moments in your life where you wish it’s about time where somebody woke you up.   So here I am, very close to missing my flight, and if somebody had told me about an hour ago that “There is no way your taxi will come and don’t keep waiting,” then I wouldn’t have had to sit on the back of a bike desperately clinging onto my luggage which comfortably sat in between me and my motorcycle chauffeur cruising at 40 miles an hour.  As my face got hit by my driver’s tear drops due to our high speed race to the finish line, I thought to myself about the MasterCard commercial where truly in life, some things are absolutely “priceless.”

We finally arrived at the airport after spending 30 of the 45 minute ride with my eyes closed and a huge metal stick pushing up against the bottom of my spinal cord.  As we pulled up to the curb, with an abrupt left turn at the very end, I found myself lying on the ground, tightly hugging my luggage as if it was my life vest.  I looked up and saw my driver’s face with a huge crowd of people behind him asking me, “Sir, are you OK?” Trying not to say “NO,” I replied, “I am pretty far from OK so please somebody give me a hand because I have a flight to catch.” As I ran and jumped through security, people at the check-in counter were yelling from behind, “Sir, you will not make that flight.” At last somebody was saying “no way” but I think it was a bit too late, and I was saying to myself, “You guys don’t know what I am capable of.”

Well, the 16+ hour trip home wasn’t a lot of fun, especially after the back pain kicked in once the plane left the ground.  But, that was an experience of a lifetime and it taught me one thing:  if you’re in a high-context culture and somebody tells you something is very difficult, it’s a polite way of saying, “No way in the world is that going to happen.” You should immediately start looking into other alternatives!