The Garden Station to Rome and back in 365 days (Rome! And the heat goes on!)

Rome....The Heat Goes On!

This is the continuing tale of a couple's travails to modern Italy on the back of 2 episodes of an American sitcom.

As a recap - we tavelled, we checked in and we wandered. A kind of modern day version of Julius Caesar's supposed pronouncement of "I came, I saw I conquered!"

We were on a 2 day sojourn in Rome before leaving for our  main destination of Anguillara Sabazia.

On this day we had so far seen the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain and a church or two.

When you last left us my wife and I were enjoying a cold beverage (whilst various groups tried to sell us a selection of items for sale, such as collapsing condiment trays and other paraphanalia). We probably stayed there longer than most visitors. We deduced this because the sellers of tat started to make a second pass at us even though they were politely but firmly rebuffed he first time.

The heat.... forgot to mention it. By this time of the afternoon my wife felt that having her hair hanging around her face was too much in that heat. As we progressed down the Via delle Muratte we came upon a small market. Accompanying this was a "fringe" market of sellers that sold... well... knock offs quite frankly, and the odd living statue. Also a young lady was offering the passing trade a chance of enjoying cornrows being teased into their hair. Just the job, she (mywife) thought. Money was exchanged and I wondered off around the market whilst my dearest had a new, temporary hairdo. Quite striking it was too and looked pretty good. I felt happy for her as this would make the intense heat of Rome in August a bit more bearable. 

And it may have done just that. For what my beloved had not informed me of was the intense pain her scalp was in at that moment such was the tightness of the cornrows. Not quite facelift territory but close. She bore that pain stoically for about an hour. The tipping point came when the pain from hers scalp was so intense she craved just to feel the heat of the afternoon and not the the intense heat PLUS the axe that seemed to have been buried in her head. So the cornrows came out. To be fair we didn't mention the heat again for the rest of the day!

Time for the famed Italian ice cream. Which was alright. I know, I know, what a miserable git you must be thinking but I reckon good ice cream is available all over the place these days so much so that the Italian version just isn't so different. Come to Rome and make your own mind up!

Whilst consuming our semi frozen dessert we chanced upon a square with a church in the middle of it. Subsequent research tells me that the "church" was in fact The Pantheon. Had I done my research whilst in Rome we might of spent a bit more time there. We are from a place that also had an edifice built for or named after the Emperor Hadrian,

I shall pass over the next part of our afternoon quite quickly. We went to see the Vatican, you can't really come to Rome and not do this. There was no service today. Apparently Popes leave the city at this  time of year..... because of the heat! I managed to dissuade my wife from joining a tour of anything there. The queues were long and the so were the tours. Having seen and been in St Marks square I was as close as I cared to be to the Sistine Chapel and all that stuff

I was also disappointed by the rampant commercialism surrounding the Vatican. We were once again in need of refreshment and noted how much the address seems to hike the price. The toilet of the establishment was a disgrace and had the cheek to ask for a donation towards the cost of maintaining a facility that they obviously didn't spend on the upkeep of .

The beggars were a different class too. All the worst deformities were on show and I was put in mind of the Monty Python sketch"Alms for an ex leper" in Life of Brian.

 It was not chance that brought these poor souls to this area. Vatican bound apostles were very generous it would seem. I wondered in a disparaging way whether curing these people would rob them of their income?

Anyway. Homeward bound, we were tired and sweaty, really sweaty. 

Once back in our room the air conditioning had  obviously gone on holiday itself.  The room was slightly warmer than when we had left even though I had set the air con to "Antarctic". Being English, we persevered and showered and cleaned but after felt that we would be repeating this again before we set out for dinner. 

I wound my way down to the concierge. Again. The homily "buy cheap buy twice" in my mind. As soon as I mentioned the Air conditioning he began writing on a pad and handed me a set of directions. To  different hotel. The air conditioning was out all over the hotel and we would be re housed at no extra cost. This was nice but they waited for people to complain before taking action!  We packed and left. The next hotel was a rather plusher affair altogether. It might have been my imagination but I felt there were a lot of Russians there. Just saying. The room was a bit smaller but...... the air conditioning worked. It was only for one night anyway. 

Shower and change and out to dinner. We spied a restaurant earlier that looked like it was serving nice pizza, it was on the Via del Viminale, just behind the national museum of classical Roman art. I didn't take the name of the restaurant and the one I see on Google Earth may have changed hands etc.

The night was warm and humid. Perfect for alfresco dining. We strolled around the Termini station and made our way to the restaurant. 

Once seated and our order taken (vegetarian Pizza for my wife and I probably had a version of pepperoni) one of my wife's pet hates reared its ugly head. The wine arrived. There is an ettiquette around accepting the wine. The purpose in generally to make sure the wine has not "Corked" The problem is that teh chemical responsible is one of the strongest and bitterest chemicals known to man. It can taint wine with only the faintest suggestion of it's presence. 

So why does it fall to the man to taste the wine? The (not extensive) research I have done suggests it is for purely patriarchal reasons. This served to irritate all holiday. It was endemic to Italy it seemed. Men test the wine! 

Apart from this the meal as ok. My wife spotted a ruse that we had seen before in Rome where waiters bring food to the table that is not ordered. Fortunately for us this appeared only as Olives, oil and bread but tonight one table appered to have a whole course turn up. They were very quick to tell the waiter they would not be paying for it as it was not ordered at which point it became complimentary as per head waiter

With our tummies full we limped our way back to the hotel and our air conditioning.

And so ended our brief Roman excursion. 

Next time:

• Travel plans upset 
• how fast can a fully laden Opel Corsa actually travel?
• Anguillara Sebazia, was it worth the wait? (Spoiler alert - Yes it was!)

The Garden Station To Rome and Back in 365 days (ROME!)

ROME!

At last! We awoke in the eternal city of Rome!
It hadn't been the most comfortable of nights I had ever had.
The bed was fine. It hadn't been too noisy outside our window (No riot, major crime, collisions that sort of thing), but did I mention the heat? On our Honeymoon the previous year we had gone to Rhodes, the hotel had air conditioning and yet I was still too hot. Nothing to do with sunburn I shouldn't think!!

Still here we were in the one of the most famous world cities there is with thousands of years of history, the  good and mostly bad. There were only a few places on my hit list. I wanted to see the Coliseum. Throughout my life if a TV or film producer wanted a go to image to specify the action had moved to Rome there would be a 5 second image of the Coliseum with or without traffic and the capitalised word ROME at the bottom of the screen. If I was to take one image of this home it was to be THE Coliseum. 

Apart from that the Coliseum is a reflection of what Roman culture could be. The building of incredible edifices that would not be carried out for at least 1500 years in Europe but built to showcase the most carnal of Roman needs.

My wife was a little more read up on Rome than me and wanted to see the Spanish Steps and the Trevi fountain. And there was always Vatican City. 

All this awaited us from our sweaty slumber so we showered and  dressed and went to Breakfast. I love a holiday breakfast. Well I love food but IF you have booked a room with breakfast I intend to get my monies worth,

It was with some trepidation that I accompanied my spouse to the breakfast room. My first impressions of the hotel, what with the lift incident and the key snapping  in the lock were somewhat lukewarm. If the  breakfast was below par I really would be paying the price for NOT paying the price,

Happily the breakfast room was full of Germans. Not a sentence I thought I would say very often! However, the  presence of Germans at a hotel has, in my experience, meant that it is a worthy venue. As was the breakfast. There was a plentiful collection of sliced meats, cheeses, rolls, croissant, pastries etc.etc. Coffee too. Good coffee, although from a machine. I pretend to myself that if I pig out at breakfast I can go through till teatime. I would need feeding before then. I wanted to find out if ice cream in Italy is as good as they say!

Having obtained our monies worth we repaired back to our room and prepared ourselves for the day ahead. I have a silly hat - a trilby that I bought in Rhodes. It is now my holiday hat. I only wear it when out of the country. We slapped on sun cream checked our phones were charged and we set off into the hot Roman Sun. 

It was straight back to the Termini. We descended into the metro. We were to go 3 stops up the line to Fermini. Which was the best and closest stop to the Spanish Steps. I am not sure why they are so famous. I know they appear in romantic literature and films, and they are quite an impressive set of steps but still....

It was on these steps that we came across our first group of tourist feeders. Those people who make a living ripping off tourists. In our case he  thrust 3 roses into my wife's hands and then offered to take  few photos of us in various poses in the scenery. I was afraid this was all a ruse to steal my phone. Until I remembered that my phone was rubbish and he would be doing me a favour if he slung it into the river Po. He then charged me too many euros and we had been mugged for the first time. I kept my phone though.

We ascended the steps to the church at the top (Trinità dei Monti if Wikipedia serves me!). We were in Rome, the home of the Roman Catholic church, so we decided to go inside for a gander. However our access was barred by  burly gentleman who suggested we were improperly attired. Bare legs and arms were not allowed. We were directed to a box that contained bits of material until  the gentleman deemed us suitable. Then charged us 5 euros each to get in. We had been mugged for the second time. I made that up. The entrance fee that is. We were made to dress up like a pair of scarecrows and that was more respectable than shorts and vest! And I was off on one. Don't get me started on organised religions - just an oppurtunity to fleece you.  My wife though was having a moment and  I completely missed it so when she asked for 2 euros to light a candle I was less than charitable about Roman Catholic pricing policies. And I ruined her moment. Well serves me right for being such a cynic!

We emerged into the daylight from the cool of the church. Did I mention the heat? it was hot. Our next destination was the Trevi Fountain. All we knew was that it wasn't far away. Well in relative terms anyway. In the heat it might have seemed a million miles. Step forward our friend Google. Up came Google maps, we typed in the fountain and up popped a route, walking naturally, off we jolly well went.

The fountain was just where Google Maps said it was. The route we were set demonstrated that either we couldn't follow simple instructions or that Google does not know the  local topography as well as it thinks! I know which version I prefer.

The Fountain is a beautiful sight rightly made famous in the film "3 Coins In The  Fountain"

However I find that wherever I go as  a tourist I am confounded by - other tourists. The square was awash with them. And when did tourists prefer selfies to just taking pictures? My wife and I struggled to find a space to throw our coins what with these tourists not only getting their pictures of the fountain but also "artistically" composed pictures of themselves AND the fountain, in a variety of poses preferably.

We nourished ourselves emotionally around the fountain, coins thrown etc, and felt it was time to move on and "nourish" ourselves with ice cream. To this end we wandered off the square and followed the crowds down the narrow alley ways.

We wandered amongst the throng of tourists and sellers of tat and felt the heat of the midday sun bearing down on us. Did I mention how hot it was out there? As a result of this sudden recognition of thirst, we called in to a cafe and partook of some excellent (code for costly) chilled beverage of the lager variety!

It was not an unpleasant situation. Sunshine, company and inebriation. 
In the next issue...

• corncrows so tight .......
• The misogyny of wine tasting
• A hotel switch

The Garden Station to Rome and back in 365 days (ROME!)

Veni, Vedi, Vici

Words often attributed to one of the most famous of all Roman Emperors,  Julius Ceasar. Well supposedly anyway. I believe a rough translation is "I came, I saw, I conquered"

I would like to add this sentiment to our first sojourn into the Roman night, but I don't think it would be accurate. First off was the intense heat, even after the sun had dipped below the tallest buildings (no idea where the horizon was in reality), secondly Rome is like any other international tourist destination these days and there were always a plethora of itinerant Hawkers selling all manner of pointless goods. Although the one that caught my eye was a collapsible condiment tray. 

We just decided to gently investigate the local area and see if we could spy a suitable place for our first meal in Italy. Around Rome Termini there are plenty of options it transpired. This was also where the largest collection of hotels were centered so restaurants also followed.

We first had to make a visit to see the lovely dog that seemed to spend the night on the flanks of Termini station. It was a friendly dog and it's owner was indulgent so we were able to say a big North East hello. 

In front of the Termini is a bus interchange along with a small market area. On either side of the station run two streets and these contain a range of hotels and restaurants, behind these streets lies a grid of streets all lined with restaurants, hotels and shops. Just about every taste is catered for. Having not been to Italy before we really wanted to sample Authentic Italian Cuisine. After some tramping around the lanes to find a flavour of the local environment we plumped for a restaurant just around the corner from our hotel. I will be honest here. I dont recall the actual restaurent we visited however the Antica Taverna Alba on Via Milazzo looks like the one we went to and is in roughly the right place. So lets say that was it.

Our first Restaurant of the holiday!

We sat out side in the warm Roman night. Very warm Roman night! Did I mention the heat already? 

My wife had recently made the decision to become vegetarian, we were unsure if the Continental attitude to life would stretch to accomodate vegetarianism but we needn't have worried. 

For her main course my wife selected a vegetarian lasagne and subsequently rated it as one of the best meals she had on the entire holiday. I forget what I ordered. Not very good travelogue material but there you are. I write this at some distance in terms of time. I think I chose a pasta dish as not only do I like pasta but I really wanted to see how the authors of the food stuff are prepared to eat it. I tend to overcook it,  smother it in a jar of prepared sauce from the supermarket and then heavily cover in grated cheddar. It is not, I discovered, the way a Roman would eat it. Their way is much better. The pasta is a little firmer and a lot more than a supermarket jar went into the sauce. I think I had something like Alfredo or it may have been Carbonara.

We drank well chilled white wine and ate a gentle pace. As we settled the bill we realised the restaurant had packed up the rest of the outside dining area and we were the last to leave. This would be a theme for me. I think Italians dine earlier if they dine alfresco. Just seemed everywhere packed up around us. It did not spoil our enjoyment and not withstanding that they tidied up around us we were not in slightest encouraged to move or eat faster. They were perfect hosts.

One reason for a close location to the hotel was that after indulging ourselves in Roman cuisine and viniculture we would only have a few steps to waddle back to the comfort of our air conditioned bedroom.

Did I just say air conditioned? Hmm... well it was like this...

We got the first bit right but I would say that the airconditioning was almost, but not quite entirely switched off when we arrived back in our room. Being strangers in a strange land we assumed this was as good as it got. We did get comfortable, sort of, but both suffered a heat and food fuelled uncomfortable doze all night long.

the Garden Station to Rome and back in 365 days (Arrival)

"But that's the glory of foreign travel, as far as I am concerned. I don't want to know what people are talking about. I can't think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything. Suddenly you are five years old again. You can't read anything, you have only the most rudimentary sense of how things work, you can't even reliably cross a street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.”

― Bill Bryson, Neither Here nor There: Travels in Europe

Nothing fits arriving in Rome for the first time like this quote!

Until We were on the ground I didn't realise they were landing aircraft on 2 runways and sending aircraft out on a third, situated at the bottom of the other 2. A particularly Italian design solution. I had seen an American Airlines 777 off in the distance that seemed to be following our trajectory only some distance away. I assumed everyone knew what they were doing but I have a particularly low opinion of Italian competence it would seem that I couldn't be sure. American pilots have previously landed at the wrong airport because Europe all looks the same to them.

Despite my fears surrounding Italian ATC we rolled up to our gate with no hitches. We never fight to get off a flight, something always seems to catch us on the way out so we just take a deep breath and gird our loins for the circus that is passport control/luggage reclaim.

First impressions of Rome Fiumicino (Leonardo Da Vinci - name droppers) were good. Modern airport etc. Passport control was automated and worked fine. So my preconceptions were just that. A tense wait for luggage - you never know if it has made! And then we moved into the throng. We were spotted immediately as travellers in need of transport. Taxi company reps hounded us all the way to the steps of the rail way station.

I watched a You tube just like this one below back in the UK. The train rolls up right into the middle of the airport and I would say it was pretty much the best way to get there so long as your start or destination are close to Termini Station. Which ours was because I booked it that way!

The Train was comfortable with plenty of space for luggage and was a smooth ride. So much so that after the excitement of the flights it was the first chance to unwind and sure enough we both dozed off and failed to see the outskirts of Rome pass by our window

Rome Termini is a pleasant enough experience, as far as mainline train stations go. The train stops quite a long distance from the exit for some reason. The mainline trains pull up to main gates just like you would see at Waterloo station. However the Rome airport express ends up on a platform a good trains length further back so you have a bit of a trek with your luggage just to join the main concourse. 

The main concourse was busy but not over crowded. Lined with shops and coffee outlets 

a picture paints a thousand words

   I think I mentioned I had booked a hotel as close (and possibly as cheap) as I could get to the station. It was situated pretty much at  the exit you can see in the photo. 

So we strolled through the terminus, recently voted top ten in Europe, until we hit the outside world, the heat and the crowds and worked out how to get across the road to our hotel. The hotel Siracusa. The website given will show you a picture of the entrance lobby. It was just as that when we arrived but with a fella at the desk. 

We had braved the road outside, Italians DO rely on other peoples brakes! The heat was growing but we stepped into air conditioned comfort and, as the door swung shut behind us, surprising serenity from the noise outside. The concierge greeted us politely and dealt with our arrival swiftly and efficiently. A surprise to us was an 8 euro room tax applied every night spent in a hotel but seemingly only charged on or after the actual night. I wondered why it couldn't be charged up front but my Italian was not up to enquiring. Mind you my use of Italian barely stretched beyond "Hello" so I was doomed to stay in the dark on this score.

We were handed our keys and staggered to the lift. After calling the lift I was somewhat surprised when the doors opened and my wife frowned as if puzzled, upon which the doors closed. Quick as a flash I called the  lift again and once again the doors opened. This time I discovered the reason for my wife's concern -  someone (The same person my wife must have spyed) was in the lift and that person quickly tried to send the lift upwards. Again.

What was this? Did Romans not actually allow the use of the lift? The lift got away from us this time, so we called it again and decided on tactics. We would rush the doors! I was to throw my suitcase (the biggest) in and my wife was going to follow up by rushing into the lift and gain control of the lift buttons whilst the occupant was pinned to the opposite wall by my suitcase. 

The doors opened but no SAS entry tactics were necessary as it was now empty. We progressed in mildly perplexed silence and then hunted down our room. The hotel appeared to stretch over the top of many business on the street and our room was over the furthest of them it seemed. On arrival of the specified door I placed the key in the keyhole and turned it. The piece of key I was holding turned pleasingly but  the rest of the key did not and soon our key was in two pieces with one half resolutely stuck in the keyhole and the other in my hand. 

This was definitely a first. At that precise moment I was wondering whether booking in haste whilst on a bus (and selecting cheapness) really had been a good idea. A jog down to the concierge (not risking a lift ride - Mk1 staircase) and back eventually delivered some sort of locksmith. Entry was gained and the errant key was extracted using a substantial pair of pliers. 

The room was pleasant enough and with some relief we settled in for a couple of nights. The view from our window was adjacent to the flanks off the Termini station. It was also where the local homeless appeared to gather. One of whom appeared to own a large and friendly dog. This dog became the object of my Wife's attention and we were duty bound to go and say hello to it later in the evening. 

It was late afternoon by this time so we decided to rest up before venturing out for dinner

This, for me was the start of the holiday. There are too many twists and turns involved in travel for me to properly enjoy journeys of this nature. When you are in charge of other peoples happiness there is a certain amount of strain involved. Now that the flying was over my wife could also relax and start to enjoy the scenery.

The Garden Station to Rome and back in 365 days (Travel Phase)

The continuing tale of my summer holiday...
For late arrivals, this is the saga of what happens when you spy a holiday opportunity from a TV show.

Humphrey Bogart

There is a quote attributed to Humphrey Bogart goes something like this

"The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind."

Nowhere is this more apparent than at any airport in the UK in the midst of a holiday season. And Newcastle was no exception. The holiday started early for many expectant tourists including ourselves. I even had a chance to sidle up to one of my work colleague's progeny and put him in fear that the long reach of his Mother might well reach all the way to Magaluf! (it does by the way)

The announcement of our gate for the flight to Rome was made and we stood from our position in the bar, swayed slightly and started to make our way, along with approximately 150 of our fellow travellers. Most of whom had also indulged in a beverage or two. The staff obviously hadn't indulged in a beverage (can't speak for the flight crew!), as a result the quote stands because there is nothing worse than a sober person amongst a group of drinkers. also nothing worse for a sober person than a group of drinkers. The "happy" drinkers are in a completely different place to the staff. And sometimes it shows.

Still, we were at the departure gate and awaiting our boarding instructions. I glanced out of the window and became aware that our plane was not exactly Chameleon like but definitely confused. All the words on the plane spelt "JET2"but the tail insignia showed an insignia I am sure belonged to another company once. I did not make this identification to my Wife. She had already been wound up by a neighbour who pointed out that Jet2 own and operate some of the oldest commercial jet liners in the UK. Not a fact she had wished to be made aware of. There was no point telling her these aircraft are designed for a long life - so they should considering how much they cost!

I find this part of the journey to be the least edifying of my journey. We are penned in like sheep, a few windows available to so that we may watch our luggage being flung about the tarmac. This reminds me of an incidence that occurred to me a few years back in Amsterdam. Follow the link for the details

After what seemed like for ever, whilst nothing very much happened, we were called forward to board our aircraft. My wife gave a reluctant sigh and we joined the throng.

I always marvel at modern aircraft as I cross the threshold of the cabin. It is all calm and smiles as we enter but in a short time the forces of physics that will be exerted on the exterior of the aeroplane are way beyond what a human can experience. The outside temperature is about -60 centigrade and the air is rushing along the fuselage at close to 600 mph. 

Any way back to our flight. We were pretty close to the back of the cabin. I had a window seat and my wife was next to me which was a relief as I was too cheap to cough the extra £5 to ensure we sat together when we booked the flight. I believe Jet2 have won awards as an airline. The cabin was in good shape and belied the aircraft's age. Just as well.

However I did note that the seats were stripped back to the absolute bare minimum as far as structure went. I did wonder whether they had managed to cram another couple of rows in as a result! It felt like one of those parties games I played as a kid. A kind of hide and seek only in reverse where one person hides and then everyone else hunts them down. The difference is that when the hider is found the seeker has to clamber in the same hiding place. Stuck at the back I felt like I was at the end of  very big game of sardines where 150 people had all clambered into the cupboard with me 

Then an announcement came over the public address. It was just the usual "shut up and sit down because we want to get going!" only dressed up as "welcome aboard" type announcement. What intrigued me the first time was that it was preceded by the first few bars of the advert. It was to become something of an albatross around the neck of public announcements for the rest of the flight. ALL public address statements led with this music and by the time we had reached Rome I had heard the refrain at least 20 times. 

Runway 25

We headed up to runway 25, waited for a another jet to land, and then lined up for a our take off run.  I find take off quite exciting. That moment of trepidation when the pilots decide they are going for it, the engine note rises and off we go - we must take off. There is a little fear of the what if...? however. When I see the ground leaving me I am initially quite anxious but soon everything begins to look like Google Earth and I feel much more comfortable. 


The flight travelled down the eastern coast of the leg of Italy and I was able to identify harbours and cites based on my research on the afore mention internet resource. 

Irritating PA jingles aside (and it might just prevent me from travelling with them in the future), the cabin staff were great, My wife HATES flying. with a vengeance. However she does like the destinations when we get there so she goes through it. Fortunately there is medication available and it is called Sauvignon Blanc. Some premeds in  the airport. Followed up by some anaesthetic on the plane and she gets through. I am better but I really cant handle turbulence and that is where I need anaesthetic.

After several anaesthetics the aircraft dipped it's nose and started its descent into Rome Fiumicino airport

Next up...
take the train
Lift problems 
dysfunctional air conditioning
The etiquette of wine tasting

Schiphol and the Golden Shot!

Schiphol airport from the  air

Do you ever wonder how your luggage gets where it's going when you travel by plane?

It is something I care not to think about about too much whilst travelling. Once it rolls down the conveyor belt and drops out of sight with a resounding thud, leaving me wondering in how many pieces my valuables were now in, it is completely out of my hands. I just have to roll up to the carousel at my destination and hope for the best. To be fair I have only lost my luggage once. 

Sometime ago I bought my daughter a shiny new suitcase but the one we collected 8 hours later looked as though it had been dangled from the back of the plane by a rope all the way and struck just about every single blunt object in its path. So perhaps it is better not to inquire!

But I did have an insight when travelling through Amsterdam's Schiphol airport a few years back. I had just arrived back on a "red eye" from the US and guess what? I was a little bleary eyed. The tag line at the time for Schiphol was that all flights were under one roof, no need to change terminals. The result of this (that they didn't tell you) was that you pretty much have to traverse the whole of the Netherlands to reach the gate of your next flight. The plane has already landed in Germany and then taxied all the way back to Amsterdam followed by a forced march up escalators, travelators, past sushi bars, coffee shops and tech stores not to mention fellow travelers

Weary and thirsty after my hike from gate to gate I was assailed with some bad news. Well badish. The flight home was full! However would I like to accept a flight voucher of 150 euros, a flight to Edinburgh instead and a free taxi to my destination. I said yes to all the above

The desk clerk said "Great, thank you very much! now we just have to remove your luggage and send it to the correct flight"
"Fine!" I replied and turned toward a coffee stall I had eyed from a good half mile away as I turned onto the long corridor that led to my gate.
"Ah no, You have to tell us which one it is" She said. My mind raced as I tried to recall the distinguishing features of my suitcase. If I could remember which one I used. I think she could see my jet lagged and sleep deprived mind revolting in the face of such a task.
"You must point it out to us" she said. My mind, grateful at being able to drop the previous task, raced ahead with thoughts of just where and how I would do just that!

At that moment a lad arrived, with an expression not unlike a puppy that just wants to please, holding a radio. He exchanged a few words in what I presumed was Dutch but my language skills are such that I don't recognise English sometimes so it might have been anything. My mind was struggling with imagining just where this lad was going to take me whilst also trying to drag my attention back to the coffee bar.

Fokker 100

Before I could truly begin comprehend what was actually going on, the lad with the radio leapt into action going through a glass doorway and down a set of steps that must of been there before I just hadn't noticed it. 
"Come with me" said the clerk and begun position me at a window from which all I could see was a KLM F100 plane and what looked to my tired eyes a hay wane piled high with luggage. 
Stood next to the hay cart was our puppy eyed friend. He brought his radio to his lips and some words crackled across the airwaves onto the radio that the girl next me was carrying
"Can you see your suitcase?"she asked. I replied in the affirmative and said it looked like it was half way up the pile on the right hand side
"Can you direct him to it?" she asked
"Well I will give it a try" I don't know any Dutch so I thought I probably couldn't but what she meant was that I could relay the instructions to her and she would direct her colleague.

What followed was an episode of a show called the Golden Shot. An early 1970's game show hosted by Bob Monkhouse where callers direct the aim of  crossbow at a target whilst just calling up, down, left, right and fire. 
And so it came to pass that I called 
"Up a bit, left a bit" etc etc. Instead of the cross hairs of a crossbow bolt I had a young lad with an out stretched arm with his index finger pointing at various items of travel paraphernalia. The catch was that there was an inevitable delay from my instruction,to it being interpreted by the clerk, recieved by the bloke on the hay cart and then executed.

It was quite some feat by this lad. He eventually had to start scaling the luggage mountain with his radio in hand and then point at luggage. Not an inconsiderable task.

My yet to be coffee addled brain was struggling with the whole bizarre nature of this event

After a few over fly's we landed on my luggage and then baggage handlers were summoned not only to retrieve my suitcase but the lad on cart also as he had become entangled in some netting around the suitcases. He returned to the departure lounge, eventually, after transferring the case to the cart heading for Edinburgh and received a metaphorical pat on the head from the clerk and he went on his way, no doubt to climb other mountains but also with the applause from the departure lounge ringing in his ears.

The morale of the story is that if you have ever wondered what happens to your luggage when you are in the air spare a thought for the handlers as they may just have moved mountains to get it to you

The Garden Station to Rome and Back in 365 days (Phase one)

The continuing saga of my holidays...

A recap. My wife saw a TV show- liked the scenery. Destination - Italy. I mucked around a bit (on the Internet) whilst on a bus to work from time to time and found hotels and flights and such.

Last time I promised you a taxi driver with a personality bypass. Unfair - I don't know what sort of day or rather night he had had. What became apparent early in the journey however, was that he was the least talkative taxi driver I ever came across. If it hadn't been so unusual I would of enjoyed it. I have had drivers of a broad range of beliefs and bigotry, all of which have attempted to gain one more for their following by describing these beliefs in great detail. 

This lad though just drove. Well, I was almost offended. Was I not good enough to follow what ever path he sought for himself? 

The part of the journey that is just before you actually leave the house is my least favourite moment. It is too late to change any plans so I should be able to relax and enjoy. However there are 2 sayings that cross my mind at this point. 

A chain is only as strong as it's weakest link
What can go wrong will go wrong (dear old Murphy)

All the planning that goes into a holiday, the packing, checking passports are in date, etc etc. and it all comes to a complete stop if you don't actually do something fundamental and actually arrive at the airport. Or forget the tickets (been there)

I booked the taxi over the phone. Dead easy just gave my post code and destination and a rough guide to the price. However the confirmation text only listed the address that was at the top of the list of houses that share our post code. I briefly considered whether this would really matter? I mean the house in question was only five doors up the street so it would be quite easy to leap out of the door and flag the driver down. Good sense got the better of me. I rang the taxi firm and they apologised for the erroneous text and yes they did have the correct door number. I did just wonder how often people jump out of the "wrong" house and demand to be carried somewhere, At 4 in the morning. I just didn't fancy that conversation at that moment at that time of day.

So all good, taxi firm texted me 3 times to tell me the make and model of car, the drivers name and how long until he arrived, The last text arrived shortly after he did but he got the right door. He helped me load the suitcases (not a given quite frankly) and then took a vow of silence for the rest of the journey save for a "thank you" on payment. 

It was a smooth ride to be fair, on our first date myself and my date (now my lovely wife) were nearly wiped out by a taxi driver who thought that having a loaded taxi travelling at speed through the streets of Shields was an ideal moment to see whether his brakes were in need of repair. A moment of joint jeopardy that worked my in favour as we "laughed" about it for months!

Once inside we joined a long queue of luggage, families, fractious children/couples and nearly all dressed for the beach already. 

There is not much more one can say about checking in for any flight. Most of us have done it these days they are pretty much the same where ever I have been. 

The same goes for security checks as we all suspend our personal space issues in the very necessary name of safety.

And so to duty free...

It has been  long time, in my opinion since the term "Duty Free" actually corresponded to any kind of actual deal. Still all those "luxury" goods are thrown at you as you progress to the most important part of the journey, the bar. 

So important have duty free sales become to airports these days it is now impossible to enter Newcastle passenger lounges with out running the gauntlet of aggressive Toblerone displays and itinerant perfume dispensers. My good wife sees it slightly differently I have to say. she enjoys a little wander through the exotic merchandise.


Having gained our consumer fix we arrived in the passenger lounges with bars and restaurants and coffee shops etc. This leads me to a question, and I have researched the answer far and wide (well family, friends and work!). The question is .... At what time is it OK to have an alcoholic beverage when awaiting your holiday flight?

You see it was not quite 6 in the morning and we had a good hour to kill. My research was inconclusive as regards a definitive consensus of opinion on this conundrum.  A lot of people would select a favourite tipple as this was officially the start of the holiday and so it was OK. Some would extend that philosophy to any time of day or night. When awaiting your holiday flight it was "De reiguer" to enjoy an alcoholic beverage of choice. And not just one but not so many you are denied access to your flight. However some respondents found early morning drinking was not suitable for them.

I was of the of the first group as was my wife. She was not getting on the plane without one. So we had two.

Next time .....
A flight of Sardines! Rome! As well as answers to important questions such as "who gets to test the wine?"