Making Lists
The few days leading up to departure had been such a constant stream of last second things to get done – vegemite for Arnika, insurance, what’s going to be the best way to take money for the trip, load computer with music, where the hell are my sunglasses (still unresolved), got photocopies of everything, bye, see ya, no I don’t know when I’m coming back, once more describe the route that’s been playing in my head for months gradually filling in details each time through (all those times I suddenly seemed to drift off into some far off place going from animated to barely there), get told safety advice, nod politely – all I could really focus on was that moment when it all stopped and I would sink back into the plush confines of flight SQ025 seat 42k and wait to be moved.
When asked whether an event is better if it’s new or historical very rarely would I plump for the former. But going on just the excitement in Changi airport the first Singapore Grand Prix in a couple of weeks is going to be something else. With six hours to kill playing full size simulators where you’re actually sitting in a scale replica car and full peripheral vision on the three LCD screens in front of you sure helps, the Team India one was especially good as it moved to your command. The rest of the airport was nice too though it was where I found that my laptop was packing a sad and that I couldn’t download the first episode of the second season of Gossip Girl as planned.
I am now officially apprehensive about trains in India. Choosing to sit on the left hand side of the plane for once proved misguided as the Indian woman next to me laid claim to the armrest as well as about six inches of my seat space with her elbow. Battle on, though I conceded the first five hours by falling asleep so fast I don’t even remember the safety briefing or undocking from the airbridge even. It says a lot about the quality of Singapore airlines that I would still put it up there with Emirates as the best I’ve flown with even though this second plane was on the older side and my aforementioned deep sleep was ended when the central pa system decided to emit loud bursts of static at five second intervals for an hour or so. But the frequency of the drinks trolley makes up for almost any inconvenience.
Land in Frankfurt, customs officer never heard of Riga or Latvia but stamps me through eventually after being especially puzzled by my ‘about six hours’ response to his ‘how long are you staying in Europe’ question. Onto sweet, sweet ICE up to Cologne and as we’re blasting north through the German countryside at over 250km/hr and remember that the trans-Siberia trains rarely get above 50m/hr which will be like being stuck behind some blue rinse in a Daihatsu Charade up state highway 1 by comparison. They say that if Russia had trains like this then the whole trip would take a day instead of a week but where’s the adventure in that.
Cologne was one of my favourite places in Germany two years ago and it definitely has one of the nicest train entrances around. Winding around the city, cross the Rhine over a very nice steel bridge glimpsing the towering Kolnerdom as you pull into the station only to be confronted with it’s black Gothic magnificence once you emerge up out of the hauptbahnhof. Blessed relief of sitting in the sun after all those hours of airconditioned control, and got to catch up with Carolin who was so hospitable last time.
Koln/Bonn airport was supposed to be a small regional thing and easily navigable. Not up four levels, through terminals B & C with the last two minutes before check-in closes evaporating. Then for the first time ever a sprint to the gate which was actually kind of refreshing after almost a day and a half of sitting and connections.
Why not make the last flight over two continents a memorable one? Maybe it’s just the difference between award winning, major international carriers and budget European airlines but the two landings in Riga were probably in the top two or three worst I’ve experienced. Two because on the first attempt the front wheels were about to touch down when suddenly the engines gunned and all the passengers were looking around slightly worried as we made another loop of the city. They say that in such situations you should look and see how the crew are reacting, which was no relief as they had gone from joking conversation to staring straight ahead stony faced. The only credit I’ll give the second attempt was that this time the pilot made it stick, albeit with a giant lurch to the right soon after touchdown. This guy should never be allowed to attempt Wellington as it all got blamed on the conditions, which on making it outside would, in even the most generous terms, be labeled placid.
Tags: flying, Germany, Singapore
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