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- Jun 7, 2006
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Awesome TR - keep it up.
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Really enjoying your TR @Skyring , hopefully you can keep all this for the Dad-Dad fans to read when they are older and can appreciate your wit and wisdomRight. How do I find my hotel shuttle? I’ve booked The Cottage Suvarnabhumi which gives the impression of being just outside the airport. Within walking distance at a pinch.
The arrivals area is a zoo. Simple as that. Arriving passengers, locals meeting arrivals, airport officials, shuttle drivers, and sundry hangers-on mill about.
I give up my fanciful notion that there might be someone holding a sign with my name on. There are about a thousand people holding up a phone book’s worth of names and they aren’t sorted in alphabetical order.
Fortunately my phone is receiving data and a quick-ish search gets me instructions for a pickup point. Gate 4 beside the AOT kiosk. Right.
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I find this after a short walk through the merry throng and yes, there’s a wall full of signs for various establishments. I find the one for “The Cottage” and although several names are listed, none of them is Peter. Or Dad-Dad.
A lady sees my despair, plucks out a clipboard from a secret recess, and I find my name.
Another forty minutes for the shuttle, she tells me. I hope that she’s not fully on board with Western numbering systems and its fourteen she means, but no, she was correct.
Around me people come and go. A couple beside me - Western gentleman and Oriental lady - are apparently politely discussing the prospect of imminent coitus. He seems to be willing to duck behind a pillar but she is hesitant at this notion.
They eventually join a herd assembled by some functionary and leave in the direction of the kerbside pickup - another zoo, I might add, this time made up of passenger vehicles of every description, barked at by a sheepdog in a uniform who may be speaking Thai or English or anything really but it is curt and direct at high volume.
Their place is taken by a fellow Australian. “I have no idea how any of this works,” she says, possibly mistaking me for someone who does.
I shrug, “Neither do I, but they do,” pointing at the half-dozen locals administering the wall. In reality, I’ve got my eyes fixed on that clipboard. If anyone touches it, I want to see what they are doing.
A couple arrive and the clipboard is lifted out. I approach them once they have found a place to wait. “Are you for the Cottage?” I ask.
English is not their first language but apparently not. Bugger.
This is like negotiating with the weather. I have zero control. After forty minutes, as advertised, some signal is received and the lady sign goddess beckons me and the English-as-a-fifth-language couple to follow her to a shuttle bus marked “Cottage”.
It’s a twenty minute drive through traffic that uses a different set of rules to the ones I grew up with. Obviously I’d just missed the previous shuttle and it had been twenty minutes out and back.
The Cottage turns out to be incredible value. For 1040 Baht I got a shuttle ride, a room, and breakfast. The room was about the same as any other on the world with the exception that it had more power outlets than I had devices, which has got to be a first.
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Twin beds shunted together, a balcony overlooking a swimming pool and a welcome air conditioner.
I looked around the shopping mall next door once I’d plugged all my devices in for a recharge, divested myself of my undershirt, and rolled my sleeves up a little higher.
A Starbucks - always a good sign - and more food outlets than I could try in a month. I looked around the various shops, bought a plastic building brick set at a fraction the price of a similar Danish product.
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I found something to eat - nothing too adventurous - and then made my way back to The Cottage to collapse into bed and dream of my 0440 shuttle booking.
I can’t say I slept well but I woke in time to shower, shave, and shake everything back into my bags. The key to not leaving a trail of electronics behind is to check every power point in the room. This takes me a while.
There must be just the two of us booked on the early shuttle - well there are shuttle departures listed all through the night but I suspect that not all of them have passengers - because as soon as I drag my bag down to reception another guest is whistled up, our bags are hefted into the bus and we're off.
Roads are emptier before dawn - helpful tip there for young players - and we zoom along at a rate of knots. We're emptied out into the Departures area and I drag my bag a few exits along to where a Finnair sign is calling me.
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Checkin is painless - I’m in the priority lane again - and I’m told that I don’t have lounge access but if I want to pay, it’s just across from the gate.
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Passport control wants my fingerprints and a souvenir photo and I now have a nifty pair of stamps in my no longer virgin passport. I admire them as the start of a new collection.
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Security control is no cakewalk. For some reason these guys are interested in batteries and I have three power banks and five batteries in my carryon. Because I can’t put them in the hold.
Anyway, they are all accounted for and I head off into the shopping mall that this airport terminal contains, apparently as its primary function. I want coffee.
No, I need coffee.
I find a fine Scottish family restaurant amongst the multitude of food outlets, order a flat white from the McCafe menu and what I imagine is a small porkburger.
This turns out to be a jumbo meal deal with a bucket of chips, a pack of chicken nuggets, and a container of cola to match. And five sachets of various sauces. Placed on my table by a grinning waiter.
I really just want the coffee and something to kill the hunger until I get breakfast on the plane two or three hours in the future, but I have an hour or more before boarding and I pick at the array.
I leave most of it. Honestly, what’s the point of filling myself up with fast food when I’ll be served something fabulous on the plane?
Eventually I finish scrolling through Facebook and the New York Times - that clown they had as head of state is racking up a world of legal embarrassment and the quickest way to the White House is to ride a mule - and head off to the gate.
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My wife, who is reading this, is complaining that I haven’t finished the first day yet. There may be further delays now that the convention is in full swing. Next flight report will be the interesting one, I think. The Finnair non-recline seats, service, and a whole bunch of photos. Two or maybe three posts.Really enjoying your TR @Skyring , hopefully you can keep all this for the Dad-Dad fans to read when they are older and can appreciate your wit and wisdom
Love your verse 3, would make a wonderful addition to my eulogy (not planned for the near future I might add!)
Enjoy the convention and looking forward to your next instalment
Look forward to your side of the story with the milk @Skyring , am intrigued!View attachment 334284
BKK-HEL
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and suddenly there is milk everywhere
No real damage done and there’s even some milk in my coffee.
I suspect the northern lights will escape you - too light and also too much ambient built up light. I remember MrLtL tried to stay awake all night in Tromso on the off chance he would see the lights - but of course being 24 hr daylight meant nada - which he did realise of course.BKK - HEL Part 2
Brunch done, I have a chance to get out my iPad and write up my trip report, edit a few photographs, sip a little more champagne.
A fine balance. A glass or two and I lift my writing. Too much and I become maudlin or banal along with increasing my typo count.
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I can’t say too many movies appeal to me on the selection. Instead I look through the music. The Hollywood playlist includes a Weird Al Yankovic song that is new to me and I run through it a few times until I have it firmly settled as an earworm.
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The moving map sits on the screen as I tap my fingers on the iPad keyboard in time to the music, the map changing in an attempt to make the flight over a succession of nothing villages entertaining. Now flying near Padabad in the middle of Pakistan at a height of 12 000 metres and a heading of 274 degrees.
Beautifully presented but of limited practical use. One thing I notice is that we no longer fly a direct route over China and Russia.
Pakistan, Afghanistan, even Iraq is graced by the mauve ribbon of our passage. We fly over Iran and Yazd is notionally visible. Yazd, where I climbed up one of the “Towers of Silence” where the Zoroastrians left their dead to be consumed by vultures. Yazd, where I regarded the eternal flame of the Zoroastrian temple through a glass that resisted any photographical enterprise.
I have a fondness for Persia and its hospitality, heritage, and whimsical street art. Its nutty government, not so much.
We pass out over the Caspian, Armenia, Turkey, and the Black Sea, avoiding the war zone to the north.
I lay out the bedding for a bit of a sleep. There’s a thin mattress that is cut to match the shape of the bed from broad at the rear to skinny at the foot tunnel which I notice isn’t overly generous in room. A tall bloke with big feet might find themselves wedged in by the toes.
I cover myself with the blanket, pull the sleeping belt over the top, lay my head on the pillow and zonk off. It’s very comfortable, and I try both sides. The leg and foot tunnel has a curve to it that accommodates but doesn’t love knees. One side feels more comfortable than the other. For this seat on the port side of the plane, my right side feels better.
Quibbles aside, I enjoy my nap. This is the main reason for spending a bit extra. The drinks and the food and the big screen are nice but a chance to stretch out and have a snooze is what really counts.
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The lights come up and dinner appears. This is the main meal of the trip, washed down by more champagne. I enjoy the stirfry garlic prawns, big and succulent.
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The cheese dish is demolished and in an attempt to maintain a healthy lifestyle I wave off the desserts but allow my champagne to be topped up.
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Later on, as we near Helsinki, I look into the galley for a glass of water to wash down a couple of painkillers. They pour the last of the champagne into a glass for me.
Hello, hangover!
We pass over the Baltic as the cabin crew put away their kit and tidy up the cabin.
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Helsinki appears and I look at the city with interest. I have a 23 hour layover on the return trip and intend to take a look around the city under the midnight sun, maybe see the Northern Lights.
I attach my sash belt, push all the bedding down into the foot tunnel and prepare to arrive into Helsinki. Or at least the terminal.
Flight 2309
AY 142 BKK - HEL
OH-LWF A359
Scheduled: 0715
Boarding : 0645 Gate G2
Pushback: 0713
Takeoff: 0720 to S
Landing: 1442 from NE
Gate: 1451 S49
TK: Images