An Expat Remembers
Otopeni Airport - my first impressions
by Nicholas Hammond
February 2005
Fifteen years ago I received a telephone call from a friend in England asking me if I was ready for my trip to Romania. He booked tickets and we prepared. The day before we left I telephoned the embassy in Bucharest to ask if it was safe to travel to be told, Yes, It's all OK now, there was no shooting last night.
Well on 20 th January 1990 I presented myself at the Tarom desk in London which was to be the start of a new adventure.
Having traveled through Europe I thought I was ready for anything. Issued with the boarding pass we did a little shopping and then waited and waited for the flight then five hours after the scheduled departure time we were called to the gate. Now the real story began. There at the gate was our luggage, not neatly packed on board. We were asked for our tickets and baggage slips so the bags could be identified. No problem ñ down the lift they went ñ down the boarding bridge we went to be directed to our baggage again to identify it. It was at this stage I began to wonder if this was a good idea.
So we embarked on the Romanian equivalent of a BAC 1-11 for our trip. I should add at this stage that there was a group of five of us traveling to Romania. Lo and behold we were the whole group for the plane. We were advised that we could sit anywhere except row one, which was first class. All the seats were the same. After takeoff the first class passengers appeared; the consisted of the entire flight staff, minus the pilot.
We asked for the in-flight food and received what was to become the standard, stale Tarom meal for the next several years: one bread roll (age unknown), two pieces of salami, one slice of cheese and a tomato. When we asked for a drink this was brought in an enamel jug and an apple which had seen better days.
At 9.00 pm we arrived at Otopeni and it was foggy, dark and cold with very little airport lighting. The plane dutifully taxied and stopped. Around the aeroplane about ten guards appeared, as well as a bus. We all stood up ñ but no, the bus was for the crew which immediately left, and a soldier came on board. After a short wait another bus turned up and dutifully we boarded the bus for the ride to the terminal.
The next thing was a body search and scan. We were getting used to this but how they thought we had obtained anything illicit between the search at London and Otopeni defeated us. Then we were asked for our visas. We had none, as we had been informed on many occasions they were obtainable at Otopeni. However, one of the guards realised what was happening and arranged for a rather sleepy person to appear with forms ñ but no change for the visa fee. I recall that it was $20 per person. One of us tried to pay for the group and duly proffered a $100 note but no, we had to pay separately with the exact money. Fortunately one member of the group had enough $20 notes.
We thought our troubles were over and were led to the baggage hall. Now you must remember it was night. The strongest bulb was probably 40 watts and the baggage hall in size was the same size as the present one. It was lit by about ten bulbs, with cigarette smoke infiltrating everything, dark corners you couldn't quite see into and one big carousel going round and round and round. We were the only flight for about an hour, having arrived late ñ and there was no luggage to be seen. (Later on it was planned that the flight from London arrived at 6.00 pm just as the baggage handlers went for supper until 7.00 pm so you learned not to make any appointments for the evening.) Eventually our bags appeared and we tried to leave the customs area only to be asked to open our bags. They had been screened already at London as well. A further detailed examination of our passports and visas ensued.
We spoke no Romanian and there was no one there. So we waited and waited until the bags appeared and we were put on our bus. At his stage a representative of the company who was allegedly arranging our trip appeared and said we would be going to our hotel. The arrivals area was also on the first floor at that time. So we moved off and went around and came back to the arrivals area. We stopped, moved off again and after ten minutes did the same thing. At this stage we began to worry as to what was going on and our enquiries elicited the reply that the driver did not know the way to Bucharest. Eventually taking his courage in both hands he drove off and after two hours of slow driving at least once more in circles we arrived in the centre of Bucharest as demonstrators were leaving Piata Revolutiei to go home. They all looked very cold but there was an air of happiness about them. So we checked into our hotel.
Now what a change ñ you depart from London Airport for Bucharest just like any other European city. You arrive at an airport which they have renamed just to confuse you. No visa and a quick stamp on the passport, get your bags and go. So if ever you think there is a delay at Henri Coanda think yourself lucky you did not arrive 15 years ago. How would the airport have coped with the number of daily flights now arriving?
Nicholas Hammond can be contacted at
nhammond@the-legal.net
Expats with interesting experiences to relate of Romania in the early 1990s are encouraged to contact andrew@vivid.ro
