Days 22 & 23 - LHR-DXB-SYD

I enjoyed dinner at Pret A Manger at Heathrow Airport, then had dessert at the Pilot Bar with The Husband. I topped it off with what the menu simply listed as “tea” – it turned out to be the most boring (and most unsurprising) brew: English Breakfast!

The mysterious "tea"

We eventually boarded and headed for Dubai, where the plane took on fuel while we waited endlessly at Gate A2. A woman approached security while we were there. I took one look at her and thought of that Taylor Swift lyric - “I knew you were trouble when you walked in”. She just had that look to her.

And I was right. Boy. I’m not sure why she felt that antagonising security (in Dubai, no less) was a good idea. I saw her later on the plane and wondered if I knew her from my supermarket days as an irksome customer. She had a sour, scrunched-up face.

Our seats were right at the back of the plane again (we didn’t mind – it was near the toilets and food stations), then looked over to see a very ill-looking man. He’d been vomiting from London and yet had got back on. After half an hour of us waiting endlessly on the tarmac, he and his wife decided to deplane. Their bags followed. Then, finally, we began the 13-hour leg of our journey.

Instead of watching movies and playing sudoku as I had on the first leg (I think the sudoku nearly caused me to fall asleep – a no-no when trying to get back onto Sydney time!), I curled up in my two seats with two pillows and two blankets. The plane was now even emptier than before and people were happily lying down with three or four seats to themselves. The Husband and I shared a four-seater, staying close to each other.

The flight didn’t feel endless. I liked the idea of us chasing tomorrow the whole time, but in winning we forfeited a day in the calendar.

We touched down at 5:33am, which wasn’t too bad considering the delay at Dubai. We filed out into the relatively quiet immigration area and deserted baggage claim. Only one flight had arrived – we were the first in! – so it was not at all stressful for me.

I declared the fox-fur scarf I’d bought in Finland – the customs guy asked me if I’d bought it because I wrote crime novels lol. I write romance, by the way. He then said “oh, one of these!” and since I hadn’t killed the fox, I could be on my way.

I always try to do the right thing! And I always get greeted by eyerolls.

Still, eyerolls are better than a fine.

Taxi home – where we couldn’t locate my brother-in-law at first, but then we saw him sleeping underneath the dining table!?!? Lol!

Anyway, I’m doing the laundry while The Husband naps. He does not possess my ability to sleep on the plane.

I had fun overseas, but I’m glad to be home!

Day 15: AMS-LCY

Woke early again. The neighbours were a little noisy last night, but they quietened down after midnight. Breakfast was ready when we went down. Again, I availed myself of the sprinkles and bread. Then it was time to go.

We waved off the front desk’s offer to get a taxi (apparently they can make it up the street) and instead made for the taxi rank. A good choice – vans were unloading in the street, thus blocking any taxi that would have tried to go to the hotel. The drive wasn’t too bad, even in peak, and we were at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol super early.

Check in went well. Bag drop went well. Boarding passes let us into the security area. All kept going well.

Then disaster struck.

We bookended a seething queue of people, a mob that seemed to stretch into infinity. My anxiety began to gnaw at me. The pain in my shoulders and back from my heavy bag compounded the problem.

I squirmed, unhappy, miserable, unable to break out of my exponential panic. We were never going to get out! The people were pressing in around me! We merged with yet another queue, then finally we go through security. A woman gave me a pat-down, which sparked my dislike of being touched.

A whole hour had passed since we’d joined the queue. And now it was time for passport control. Ugh – none of the chip-reading gates were open, so hundreds of people from multiple outgoing flights were squished through a handful of staffed gates. We got into the fast-moving EU queue (British passports at the ready) and watched many people get turned away from the “premium” queue before they desperately joined our queue instead – I’m sure some people missed their flights!

I started having the stirrings of an anxiety attack. I must have looked awful because a security guard came over to ask if I was okay!

Finally, we made it out, with much less time to kill than usual. But I still had an hour to drink a hot chocolate and eat something sweet. I’m glad we always arrive at airports 3 hours before our international flights, even in Europe. What a disaster that could have been.

The flight to London City Airport was as packed as the Heathrow one. I couldn’t fit any of my hand luggage overhead due to too many people bringing on those bulky mini suitcases. Squished all my stuff under the seat in front of me.

Though we left late, we landed a whole minute early – which made it feel like we’d never left Schiphol, because London is one hour behind Amsterdam and the flight time is less than 60 minutes!

We escaped with our suitcases to the car rental place, where it take agggges for them to release a car to us (they had a newbie on the front desk who looked like he had no idea what he was doing). I’m glad we booked ahead – a group of men beside me, who’d only booked that morning, wanted a small car and ended up with a minibus!

The woman overseeing the newbie was concerned that we had a lot of luggage, but we wanted a small car (and managed to fit everything) to get through tiny country lanes.

After some mishaps (the GPS was stuck in French and I didn’t know where the parking brake was), we got on our way, hoping to go around the city.

Our Troll GPS had other ideas.

It started okay. But then I looked out the left window and saw the Tower of London!?! Oh shit! We got tangled in the streets of downtown London and the GPS tried to make us drive down The Mall, even though it was closed. Mayhem!

Somehow we ended up free in Hammersmith. I worried about the congestion tax, but later discovered that it’s a bank holiday, so no tax was required (and that’s why The Mall was shut!).

Whew.

We recovered in a Services on the road to Salisbury. It looked very familiar – I realised I’d been there 4 years ago on a tour to Stonehenge.

And I saw Stonehenge again.

It looks oddly small as you drive past it, though the stones are actually quite large in person. I was reminded of my trip in 2013 and smiled. I am so fond of those times Cazy and I shared together.

A huge traffic jam was outside the Neolithic monument (coming from our direction), but it was not there because people wanted to see Stonehenge. No, it was the end of a long weekend and everyone was queueing to go home.

Troll GPS returned to take us down questionable B roads. We came across families with prams and they crossly told me to slow down – I was bemused to see them in the middle of nowhere. I’d rather people didn’t cover an entire road when they’re walking in a pack, since there would have been ample room for the car if they’d kept to the sides. It wasn’t my intention to annoy folk; I had kept to the signposted speed until they appeared.

The GPS then nearly killed us on a route that took us across the A road we needed. I was honked, narrowly avoiding disaster, but how could I have seen any cars coming around that blind turn? Ugh. Driving in England is…harrowing, to say the least.

But at last we came to Lyme Regis. Yay for narrow lanes that induce heart attacks!

Having just read on the plane the bit were Jane Austen’s characters in Persuasion enter Lyme (the Regis came later), I felt like I was walking – er, driving – in the footsteps of fiction and history.

Picked up the rental keys and fumbled our way to Coram Tower, a historic building with a fucktonne of stairs. Why oh why did I rent the apartment with a view? In such an old building, no less!?

Coram Tower - starring STAIRS

A trip to Tesco revealed the bank holiday that had been chasing us from London. The shelves were a bit bare (the Tesco will be closed tomorrow in lieu of today – we were grateful!) but we managed to get what we needed, including toilet paper!

Then we settled in for the night, watching Top Gear on BBC iPlayer (this place has a TV, so we assume it has a TV licence!). The apartment is quite draughty, owing to gaps between the glass windows and the stone sills, but radiators help with that.

Not a bad place to stay.

Day 13 - TXL-AMS

The day began with me wishing we could stay in our junior suite forever, followed by the usual shower, then breakfast, then the horrid realisation that I’d had an allergic reaction to the shower gel. I was miserable.

So I itched (and scratched) as we were driven to Berlin Tegel airport, where mayhem and polizei greeted us.

The taxi driver was able to get us to Terminal D, where our KLM flight would be taking off from. We checked in and went through security, wondering what was going on – curiosity and anxiety peaked when evacuation orders came for Terminal B. Worried, I checked online (using Google Translate). Turns out someone had left their suitcase behind in Terminal B, sparking bomb concerns.

I once again had to remove the troublesome Uggboots for security. My shirt, which reads “I can’t adult today”, bemused one of the security guards who asked his colleague for a translation.

Bored, I Instragrammed last night's tea

We boarded the plane on time (despite them moving the gate twice – we got there in the end) and all seemed well. But no – the number of people on the plane did not match how many had swiped their boarding passes.

So we sat there, bored, while they tried to figure it out.

Much to our confusion, the stewardess asked us all if we were going to Amsterdam. Yes? But two passengers were listening to their headphones instead…so it was a while before the mystery was solved.

Then it was discovered that these two passengers had scanned their tickets in a neighbouring queue before going down the wrong tube to the wrong plane. They should have been heading for Paris! I am not sure how they managed that – even though the gates and tubes were side by side, ours was beside the wall!

So, at last, 30 minutes late, we departed for Amsterdam.

The flight went well. Some snack food. And we only landed 15 minutes late! I always feel ill when pilots make up time on flights. This was no exception. Happily, everyone could make their connecting flights.

We found a taxi (after some confusion) and he was very chatty as well as aggressive on the roads – but he had to be. Cyclists seem to be the dominant species in Amsterdam. The road near our destination, however, was choked with pedestrians. Our agitated taxi driver took us as close as he could to our hotel (we later discovered a closer taxi rank), which left us slogging through the Saturday evening crowds, wielding suitcases instead of a more persuasive bumper.

Happily, we located our 3-star hotel easily enough (though my arm was sore from wrestling with 18kg of luggage). It’s not a terrible place to stay – unlike the streets outside, which assaulted me with noise, bodies and confusion.

We sought sanctuary from the rabble in an Argentinian BBQ joint. Seated by the front window, I felt safe and happy there, away from the chaos of Amsterdam. To me, it seems worse than New York City. Well, it is Saturday…and Amsterdam is quite popular for a weekend visit.

Many old couples and families came into the restaurant, seeking sanctuary along with us. I had duck, but it was so charred its provenance was unidentifiable.

Checked out the supermarket we found and then retired to our small room and its HDMI-capable television set.

Sailor Moon formed our entertainment and somehow I could not bring myself to write this entry on its appropriate day.

Day 9 - HEL-TXL

We began the day staring out the window, at the blowing snow outside the hotel, wondering if our flight would still take off or be delayed. But we could hear other planes leaving the tarmac and The Husband seemed sure that things would go smoothly – and they did.

By 2:05pm, when our flight was scheduled to leave, there was not a speck of the white stuff to be seen. I managed to find a matcha latte (!!!) at the airport for 6 euro. I think they used a decent powder, judging by the price and taste.

The flight was short, so Business class was non-existent. The turbulence was the only thing that didn’t make me feel like throwing up. It would have been quicker to fly direct to Germany, but we used a booking agent who secured cheaper tickets this way. I think I’d prefer paying the extra to go faster, to be honest.

We stopped over in Sweden’s major airport in Stockholm with only euro in our wallets and no SEK. I was the first to notice the different currency on the price tags. Still, I managed to use my credit card.

Another short flight (80 minutes to the previous 60 minutes), another bout of fighting nausea, then we were on the tarmac in Berlin.

First, two buses had to show up and take us the terminal, then we were smooshed through a narrow entrance so an Inspector Rex-like sniffer dog could check us out…and then the waiting began. It took over 40 minutes for the belt to even start moving. Our bags showed up, allowing us to head off to our hotel. The Husband credits the ease of his conversation with the taxi driver to my meticulous, printed itinerary which has hotel addresses in large text (in the local language as well).

So! It was easily figured out where we needed to go, everything was going great – until we arrived at the hotel. We were first asked to wait – and wait we did, in lobby chairs. Then came the offer of a free drink. Hmm.

The service manager came out (his name is David) and admitted that the hotel had overbooked! It was due to some sort of system error, but that didn’t change the facts. There was no room at the inn.

“This is not okay,” I moaned.

So we sat down for a free dinner while David rang around the nearby hotels. He got us a place at a five-star hotel for one night only. Sigh, okay. We kept eating. Then – miracle of miracles! – someone had checked out early. From a junior suite! We were delighted. David wanted to send something alcoholic to our room as an apology, but we’re not big drinkers. He did agree to our request for Coke Zero.

So up we went, us with suitcases and David with a champagne bucket filled with ice and 4 glass bottles of Coke Zero, surrounded by small lollies!

An acceptable apology

What an evening! We watched Resident Evil on Netflix (through the TV with an HDMI cable) and just generally enjoyed ourselves.

All thanks to David’s tireless efforts.

Day 8 - Nokia & Helsinki

Eight people awaited us at breakfast today, so I was able to have two croissants and two glasses of apple juice. Then, despite my heavy heart, we checked out and headed over to S’s house for the last time. A squirrel greeted us before immediately running away. At least my GoPro recording session yesterday was not a waste – yay!

We drank some tea (white tea with raspberry flavouring) and chatted, stretching out the minutes in a bid to make our final meeting last forever. Then we headed off for an early lunch at Pizza Koti. We bought a pizza burger (with free drinks!), but it tasted…odd. S and I had 2 pieces each. The Husband had 4!

A Moomin mug, naturally

Took S home. Made excuses to keep hanging around. Squirrels were seen. When S went to the bathroom, my eyes filled with tears and I hugged The Husband, saying, “I don’t want to go!”

But we had to. So I hugged S. We took one last photo. Then she waved us off as we set out for Helsinki airport.

On the way it snowed a bit, which was a little nerve-wracking but still manageable. We somehow stopped at the same service centre from our journey in the other direction. The Husband was unable to fill the tank completely lol. Then more driving…and more driving…

Finally, Helsinki airport appeared. Dropped our bags at the nearby hotel, hit the petrol station (we were served by a guy who filled the tank and told us where to take the rental car – when asked by the cashier if the guy should get an extra euro, The Husband said yes), then parked the car in a rental car company’s space. We found the desk, returned the key and took the covered walkway to the hotel (huzzah!).

The room is nice enough for one night and it’s still vaguely light at 9:30pm. We had dinner at the airport to save money – I ended up in Starbucks with couscous and yoghurt stuff, as well as a grande hot chocolate. Watched Blade on Netflix.

Day 1 - SYD-SIN-HEL

We hung around in our apartment in Sydney until 11am, then departed for the train, leaving my brother-in-law to enjoy having the place to himself for 23 days.

I was wearing my Uggboots, fearful of the cold in Helsinki, but this made dragging the suitcases to the station somewhat hellish – and the 20°C weather wasn’t doing me any favours. So we decided on a taxi instead.

After visiting the taxi rank at the station, we were taken to the Qantas terminal at Sydney Kingsford Smith Airport. Our driver helpfully gave us the departure cards we had to fill out for immigration.

We arrived so damn early, but we were unable to choose our seats as apparently everyone else had checked in online. Oh well, we were in the middle of the A330 aircraft and would not need to clamber over anyone. Much to my amusement, our second set of tickets had us flying from SIN to HEL.

We had Thai food before braving security. I was nervous, but glad that The Husband convinced me to eat beforehand – we had hours to kill. And kill them we did. I initially felt bad about wearing the Uggboots there, though it became clear that no one cared because 40% of the Australians I saw were wearing thongs. Okay, most of them were lining up for Bali, but don’t their feet get cold!?

We boarded our flight to Singapore at about 3:05pm and discovered some decent films on the entertainment system to watch. I kept myself awake and did badly at Sudoku, somehow killing 8 hours in the process.

We touched down in Singapore just as our next flight started boarding passengers. We got the gate number and ran, gasping, from one wing of Singapore Changi Airport to the other. Uggboots and a heavy laptop did not make it easy! And the security at the gate made me take off my Uggboots for screening (I’d had to do the same in Sydney) and we managed to board our Finnair flight without drama, despite the 10 minutes we’d had from deplaning to get to the gate.

I had quite a bizarre experience as I entered the plane. For the first time in my life, I was surrounded by people who looked exactly like me. I’ve never even experienced this back in Sydney. It completely threw me for a loop! I'd always suspected I had Scandinavian genes. This pretty much confirmed it.

We were stuck in the window/middle/aisle configuration, but towards the window which is not ideal for people with small bladders. We tried to get the Finn in the aisle to swap with us. He said he preferred where he was. I’m very sure he came to regret that stance, because The Husband and I were up and down a lot (we tried to sync up, to avoid bothering our seatmate) and then…I had been doing so well at jumping over him…but oh, I failed this one attempt in such a bad way. I slipped, I slammed my butt into his face and hit the chair across the aisle. Oh my God.

“Sorry!” I shouted and ran to the toilet without a backwards glance.

I slept for a good chunk of the 12-hour flight. I think I was conscious for less than half of it! As for the other few hours, Finnair has five times the entertainment content as Qantas, the toilets stay cleaner and we were 15 minutes early to Helsinki. Qantas has always been chronically late for me.

Flying over Russia

PS: Watched Your Name on that flight. Quite a good movie.

Days 38 & 39: The Southern Hemisphere

I boarded the plane but the two passengers in my row were noisy and so planned to nab my own row of seats (the flight had quite a few empty seats in Economy). The moment the plane was in the air and the seatbelt sign winked out, it was chaos! Passengers fought for, won and lost potential beds. I had my fair share of frustration.

The nearest three-seater was reserved by a woman in the row behind it when she threw a pink cushion on it before take off. The next three-seater was stolen by a rude man - but this turned out to be a good thing because those arm rests didn’t fold up (they were exit rows, tables and entertainment folded away into arm rests).

Eventually, I found a brilliant four-seater two rows from the back of the plane. Two of the armrests kept falling down but I managed to fold myself around the problem. Four pillows, four blankets, four headsets...heaven! And right near toilets too.

My time was spent watching programmes, reading books, snacking after walks around the plane - and glorious napping which managed to mostly put me on Sydney time.

Breakfast was blah, but it didn’t matter because suddenly at 5:10am we touched down in my home city. I ignored the e-Passport lines (glasses always bamboozle the machines), waited for and got my suitcase (to my relief there was no vodka smell or staining) which was freezing and breezed through customs.

My parents greeted me - Mum took a photo. Ugh! 24+ hours in the same Dalek T-shirt. I must have looked terrifying.

I was driven home and arrived just before 7am. Souvenirs took a while to sort out but luckily most of my clothes were clean! 

I was finally, truly, home.