Showing posts with label Middle East. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Middle East. Show all posts

Manufacturer optimistic of finding AF447 flight data recorder

Posted by PrfyVdlx , Labels: , , , , , , , , Friday, June 19, 2009 12:21 AM

June 18, 2009 -- Updated 1843 GMT (0243 HKT)

STORY HIGHLIGHTS

  • Maker of flight data recorder aboard AF447 has "100 percent" recovery rate
  • Top executive says finding flight data recorder could reveal cause of air crash
  • Plane wreckage believed to be on Atlantic seabed, around 4,500 meters deep
  • Device's underwater locator beacon has limited battery life

A Brazilian diver floats on wreckage of Flight 447 spotted Wednesday.

(CNN) -- A top executive for the company which built the flight data recorder aboard Air France Flight 447 says he hopes his firm's 100 percent recovery record from air accidents will be maintained despite concerns the device may be lost at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

Although some debris has been retrieved, air crash investigators remain in the dark about what caused the airliner to plunge into the sea off the coast of Brazil with 228 people onboard earlier this month. The wreckage is believed to be about 4,500 meters (15,000 feet) deep, amid underwater mountains and mixed in with tons of sea trash.

A French nuclear submarine and other vessels are searching for the flight data recorder by attempting to trace its locator beacon, which sends acoustic pulses, or "pings," to searchers.

The U.S. Navy has contributed two high-tech acoustic devices -- known as towed pinger locators -- which have been attached to French tug boats and can search to a maximum depth of 20,000 feet.

Honeywell Aerospace's Paolo Carmassi -- the firm's president for Europe, the Middle East, Africa and India -- told CNN that retrieving the flight data could help solve the mystery of the plane's fate and said his company had never lost a black box involved in an accident.

"We believe that our technology is well-positioned to, in this case, contribute to solve the big question around this particular accident," Carmassi said.

"We have a 100 percent recovery rate of all the black boxes that we have installed that unfortunately may have been involved in accidents so we hope that we will be able to maintain our record and be able to shed some light on what happened."

But Carmassi acknowledged it was hard to estimate how much battery life the locator beacon had left.

"There is a certain duration which depends on the particular environmental conditions, whether it's underwater or on land, whether it's at 10 meters or 4,000 meters; so it's very difficult to pinpoint exactly the duration," he said.

Yann Cochennec, an aviation expert with Air et Cosmos magazine, told CNN that a recorder had been retrieved from the seabed in 2004 after an Egyptian charter flight crashed into the Red Sea shortly after leaving Sharm el-Sheikh.

But he said the depth of the Atlantic, strong currents and bad weather would make retrieving the recorder from the Air France wreckage far more difficult.

The flight data recorder -- sometimes called a "black box" -- is actually an orange, metal cylinder weighing about 13 pounds. Inside is a stack of memory chips designed to survive high temperatures, strong impact and tons of pressure.

The devices record virtually every detail about how an aircraft is working, including cabin pressure, speed and altitude, remaining fuel and whether that fuel is flowing properly. They have played a crucial part in air crash investigations since they were first fitted to commercial aircraft in the 1940s.

From CNN.com; see the source article here.

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Traveller Destination - CAPPADOCIA

Posted by PrfyVdlx , Labels: , , , , , , , , , , , Thursday, June 5, 2008 8:36 PM







Lifted from TODAY • Thursday • June 5, 2008

Traveller
Rock bottom disco nights
When you’re done admiring the landscape, hang out with the locals to really experience Cappadocia

AUDREY PHOON
audrey@mediacorp.com.sg

PERHAPS it is because I am standing in Pasabagi Valley, an area dotted with giant, ancient phallic-shaped rocks, or because all I can hear are birds whistling, but I really need to pee.

No matter — I am pretty sure there are modern facilities nearby. After all, this is Cappadocia, a region in south-eastern Turkey where contradictions have no problem sitting side-by-side — there are buildings that house both churches and mosques, centuries-old caves equipped with Wi-Fi, and wild horses as well as people on quad bikes roaming the terrain.

The region is also known for its troglodytic dwellings where Christians lived to avoid Roman persecution as early as the 2nd century, but its most dazzling sight is its landscape of bizarre rock formations created by volcanic eruptions millions of years ago. Some were hollowed out by the early Christians and painted with elaborate frescoes to form churches. Others became homes that were abandoned for more modern accommodation before the 20th century, but have since been reclaimed and are being turned into cave hotels, museums and shops at a brisk pace.

But back to my story. Rounding several of Pasabagi’s phallic-looking rocks, I see a sign emblazoned with “WC” on top of a souvenir store. I enter to empty my bladder and emerge with a free necklace and an offer to visit Apo the store owner’s village.

This is my first taste of Turkish hospitality and I am so charmed by it that I ditch the rest of my tour group (along with “don’t talk to strangers, ah” warnings from my youth) and agree to take a ride to Cavusin, the small, crumbling village where Apo lives. There, he introduces me to his friend Hakan and Hakan’s girlfriend, Ceni, and we make plans to go clubbing in a cave disco — one of the new businesses that is occupying the hollowed-out rocks — that night.

THE FLINTSTONES CLUB
At about 10pm, the trio pick me up in Apo’s beat-up BMW.

We head to Labirent, a disco tucked away in Cappadocia’s pottery town, Avanos. It occupies several caves and looks a bit surreal, like something out of The Flintstones. A little underground tunnel leads from the entrance to a tiny rock balcony where a wild-eyed young DJ is spinning Turkish dance hits. There is a large bar in one corner, and a bunch of tables and sofas in another. The atmosphere is great, but there are only a few teenagers on the dance floor.

Apo apologises for the small crowd. “Turkish Muslims are pretty liberal and we drink quite a lot, but there are limits,” he says. “Tomorrow’s Friday, a holy day, so people generally don’t go out the night before. The best time to go clubbing is actually Saturday.”

He and Hakan, both Muslims, decline any tipple because of that reason — evidently tonight’s outing has been arranged just for me — while Ceni and I decide to share a bottle of the Turkish national drink, raki.

This clear, potent anise-flavoured aperitif tastes like a stronger version of sambuca and is drunk either straight or with water. When the latter is mixed in (always after the raki) it turns a milky white — thus raki is also known as aslan sutu (literally, lion’s milk or milk for brave men).

At 4am, the club closes and my new friends drive me back to my hotel in one of Cappadocia’s bigger towns, Urgup. On the way, we pass Devrent Valley, otherwise known as Imagination Valley for its rock formations that resemble animals. Perhaps it is because of the raki, but I find this journey a particularly exhilarating experience: Careening recklessly along the dirt roads with the windows down despite the cold, the midnight-blue sky heavily dusted with stars, the silhouette of a huge rock camel looming round a bend.

The guys reveal that they are considered the best “rally drivers” in their village, but then dash all confidence I have in them by adding that neither has a valid driving licence.

BREAKING BREAD
Later in the week, I befriend an elderly bus driver named Omar Serif (yes, really), who takes me to his hometown of Mustafapasa. History has stamped Greek architecture on many buildings here — the village was inhabited by followers of Greek Orthodox faith until 1923, when there was a population exchange between Greece and Turkey to “return” Greek Orthodox Turkish citizens and Muslim Greeks to their respective countries. We are to have lunch at one of these buildings, the Old Greek House (www.oldgreekhouse.com), a restaurant and inn that Omar’s uncle, Suleyman, owns.

The house is more than 100 years old, but it’s stunning — much of the original stone and woodwork has been preserved, as have the vivid ochre, green and blue accents.

I’m a little disappointed that despite the restaurant’s name, Turkish fare instead of Greek food is served. Still, the lentil soup and guvec (a sort of eggplant stew) that Suleyman’s family prepared for me are delicious. The bread — that’s baked the traditional way, by slapping mounds of dough against the sides of a well-like stone oven — is also wonderful, especially since it’s served straight from the oven.

COME BACK FOR DESSERT
The evening before I am to leave, one of Hakan’s friends, Mehmet Turhal, invites me to a barbecue in his father’s vineyard. This, he tells me, is “something we do very often”; indeed, Cappadocia is the world’s oldest existing wine region, with wine first being made here nearly 4,000 years ago. The area contains numerous small vineyards, some of which produce wine and others, traditional grape molasses called pekmez.

We stop by a supermarket to buy provisions before the party: Fresh bread, yoghurt, tomatoes on the vine, various meats, sweet oranges, beer and raki — the “usual” items on his shopping list, explains Mehmet.

The vineyard is on the outskirts of Cavusin, accessible only by an unlit dirt track. After minutes of driving into nothingness, we pull up at a tiny brick shelter. Mehmet’s friend Erkan Akburak is in the kitchen at the back preparing the food — apart from being a master potter at Omurlu, a small but fine pottery in Avanos (www.omurlu.com), he’s apparently a good cook, too.

When the meat is served, I am tempted to pack Erkan in my suitcase: The chicken wings are cooked through perfectly with the skins still lightly bubbling, and the beef steaks are incredibly succulent.

Still, Mehmet is not satisfied. “Come back when the grapes are in season,” he says, casting his arm over the expanse of grapevines. “Then, you can have them fresh off the vine for dessert.”
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