Scrapbooking Award

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Champagne Breakfast (17 September 2014 morning Dubai)



The Emirates First Class lounge is up one level from the departures/shopping level. Amazingly, it has pretty much the same floor area as that huge shopping area. I'm used to airline lounges that can be walked around in a minute or less, but this one, you'd take ten minutes brisk walk to go from one end to the other. Awesome.

Hard to describe everything, every wonder. It has its own duty free shops, several bars and restaurants, prayer rooms, showers, shoeshine stands, viewing areas, private lounges, computer rooms...

We found a restaurant. On the face of it, we only had an hour for breakfast. I checked out the showers, but here is the only area I can fault this magnificent lounge and that is that there are not enough showers. There was a queue of passengers from our flight waiting outside, so we gave that a miss.

We sat down in a dining area. The staff are incredibly attentive. Before we knew it, we had menus before us and champagnes being poured.

What a life!

 

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Kippers! (17 September 2014 morning Dubai)



Oh boy. This is the life. A proper sit down breakfast with champagne and a wide choice of food.

Kippers. I didn't hesitate a moment. I love kippers.

There was a luscious looking buffet bar not too far away, but John and I sat back, sipped our champagne and congratulated ourselves on making it a quarter of the way around the world, braving all discomfort and terror on the voyage.

Well, not that much privation, really. I think the last ten minutes of my movie got cut off instead of the captain circling around until I'd finished. "Up in the Air" with George Clooney - one of my favourite shows.

They'd take a while to cook breakfast - and here I glanced at my watch, as our time was limited - but in the meantime, would Sirs like some toast and coffee?

Sirs would.

 

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Kipper Snapper (17 September 2014 morning Dubai)



OK, here's my happy snap of my kipper. Beautifully presented, maybe a little sparse as a brekkie, but I'd already had a couple of slices of toast and marmalade, they kept on topping up the bubbly, and there was a coffee in there as well.

I'd been warned not to order something like a steak here, and I was getting a little antsy over the time. Our gate was only a few metres away - yes, you can board directly from the lounge - but still, these sorts of lounges don't make general boarding announcements and I didn't want to miss the onward flight.

Or be terribly late boarding. One of the perks of elite status is getting to the overhead lockers first.

Still, I enjoyed my breakfast. It was another seven hours or so to Heathrow and I wanted to relish the space and the amenities for as long as possible.

And record the event for posterity. I posed Routebear beside my plate, hoping nobody would notice the crumbs left over from the demolished toast.

This drives my wife nuts. Eat it, don't shoot it!

Do you photograph your food?

 

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EK5109 Unstatused (17 September 2014 morning Dubai)



We finished our breakfast with plenty of time before our scheduled departure at 0910. I looked over at the departures board, silently announcing flights to everywhere.

Our flight QF9 was shown as a codeshare with Emirates: EK5109. That Qantas/Emirates partnership was why we were sitting in the Emirates flagship lounge, which I was mentally bumping up over Qantas's Sydney International First, which I hadn't thought could be topped in quality.

According to my camera, I took that photo at 0857 (actually it showed almost three in the afternoon, but I hadn't reset it for Dubai time yet), a few minutes before the scheduled departure time. Normally the flight leaves at 0830, but we'd been delayed in Melbourne with an engine problem and had taken off an hour or so late.

So why, when flights with similar departure times had long since completed boarding and were showing "Gate Closed" did we not have a status?

Our plane was right there outside the window, the boarding gate only a few metres away, so obviously it hadn't left.

John and I finished our coffees, thanked the staff - it really had been a fabulous breakfast - and went to board.

The lady at the gate wouldn't let us through. "Not yet," she said.

Well, okay. I don't mind spending more time in the best airport lounge in the world.

 

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Another round, please! (17 September 2014 morning Dubai)



Well, with more time to spend, we wandered around Dubai's amazing First Class lounge for a bit longer.

We found another dining area. We checked the departure screen. No status for our flight yet.

We ordered another breakfast. Champagne and waffles for me. John had a Manhattan.

We both had more coffee.

Same attentive service, same excellent food.

Eventually we finished, found a place to sit down, and just waited for our flight.

 

[Skyring]

Goodbye Dubai



Our delayed flight was finally called, and of course it was "hurry up" after all the waiting. Just like my Army time again.

In Dubai, passengers board direct from the lounge, Or at least we got our passes scanned, got into an elevator and went down to the departure level, where we went straight onto the airbridge.

Sat down, buckled up and took off. I was kind of hoping for a glimpse of the world's tallest building, and I could see some sort of tall shadow in the far haze, but it wasn't the spectacular sight one expects from the travel shows.

Oh well.

I can't remember now if I ate lunch on the plane. Probably not. Two breakfasts were enough.

Rather gallingly, the cabin lights were dimmed and the shades pulled down. On a daylight flight, this means that the view over the Middle East and Europe was pretty well shut off until we approached England in mid afternoon. We came in from the west, landed and taxied up to Terminal Three.

But we weren't done travelling yet!

 

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Nine steps for tired travellers (17 September 2014 afternoon Heathrow)

Heathrow isn't one of my favourite airports. It's big and bewildering. I've long since lost count of the number of times I've been here, but it's rarely a good experience. Some of the lowest and loneliest points in my life have been here.

1. Welcome to Heathrow!
On leaving the aircraft, please follow the purple signs for Flight Connections.

We arrive at Terminal 3. An older terminal, cramped and claustrophobic. Follow the purple signs. So many of them and so confusing!

2. Connections bus
A dedicated bus will transfer you between terminals. Buses are free and depart every six to ten minutes.

We figure it out, climb aboard a bus, and depart on a long and confusing tour of the airport underworld. I tell John about the time my daughter and I took a similar bus after a few hours at the Champagne Bar and enjoyed it immeasurably, giggling like idiots. This time, not so much.

3. Airline desks
Need to visit your airline's ticket desk? You'll find it here.

Yes. We need to get our onwards boarding passes.

4. Ready to fly
Staff will check your ticket to ensure you're in the right place, that your hand baggage meets airline regulations, and that you have enough time to catch your onward flight.

We've got six hours or so. Plenty of time. However, it seems a good deal of this is taken up by a trainee clerk who is flummoxed by our round-the-world itinerary. That's OK. So am I. She smiles a lot at two tired and grumpy Aussies and eventually we've got our boarding passes.

5. Passport control
All passengers arriving on international flights must pass through UK immigration control at Heathrow.

This can be horrendous. I've been stuck behind a planeload arriving from Africa and watched the immigration officers inspect passports with microscopes. We seem to be in a similar situation here, as everyone in front of us is taking a long time.

6. Biometric capture
To maintain the highest levels of airport security, we are required to capture the photo image of departing passengers.

No smiling for the photo! This is easily accomplished.

7. Hand baggage check
At this point your hand baggage will be checked to ensure it conforms to UK and EU regulations. Please be aware that liquids in containers over 100ml are not allowed through security.

I am an expert on this. Plastic belt, ziploc clear pouch. Just call me Ryan Bingham.

8. Security screening
You will pass through security screening at this point. If you are a non-UK resident and have goods to declare to HM Customs, please use the Customs telephone before security control.

I hate those "stand up and wave your arms in the air while a guy in a back room sniggers over your private parts" machines. However, I have no alternative here. Not sure how the Customs bit works - our checked bags are somewhere in the system and if I want to declare several kilos of Tim Tams, they'll have to take my word on it.

9. Departure lounge
Check the screens in the departure lounge, which will be updated when your gate opens and again when your flight is ready for boarding. If you've time to spare, the departure lounge has plenty of facilities to help you relax, including restaurants, shops and seating areas. Please note there are limited facilities at the departure gates.

There's five hours or so to kill, and I need a shower! Where's the British Airways First Class Lounge?

 

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Lost in Heathrow (17 September 2014 afternoon Heathrow)



Once we had been disgorged by the system into Heathrow airside, there was the familiar bustle.

An immediate problem was that Terminal 5 is enormous. Heathrow is British Airways' primary hub, and T5 is their dedicated terminal. It's a huge modern building, with two satellite terminals accessed by an underground train.

I'm always confused. Somehow we seem to be moved up and up in the vast space to be processed, and then we find we are down at aircraft level again.

In a land of shops. Duty Free, newsagent, bars, restaurants, there's even a Starbucks (but I've long since bought that mug.)
I have the same Dubai problem of not knowing where North and South are. The lounge is at the North end of the terminal, but which way is North?

Maybe it would help if I could see the sun. Or maybe not.

After a bit of wandering and some kind of helpful signs, we ascend the escalators to Loungeland. Three lounges here. There's the normal base level lounge for BA Club members, there's the First Class lounge for elites, and there's the Concorde Room for First Class passengers.

Which means the First Class lounge has no First Class passengers. It's only jumped up Platinums and Emeralds like me who are flying Economy or Business. If we were flying First, we'd be in the Concorde Room.

 

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First Lounge in a Second Class Carrier (17 September 2014 afternoon Heathrow)



British Airways can be very patchy. For a full-service national carrier, they don't quite stack up to Qantas or Cathay Pacific or Air New Zealand.

Long-haul Economy, or any Economy, really, they are just sad. I guess the competition with the low cost carriers that abound in Europe is fierce.

Business class is okay - shorthaul it's pretty much the same seats and a nice meal - but on longer flights they do this weird forwards/backwards thing with their seats to cram more in, and I do not love it.

Their lounges can be pretty spartan and unwelcoming sometimes. Here in their all-but-flagship lounge, I have mixed feelings. Their Champagne Bar is one of my favourite places on Earth, and I can get pretty happy there in a pretty short time.

In theory they do sit down a la carte dining, but it's too hard to catch a waiter's eye to order from the menu, so everyone just serves themselves from the buffet, which isn't too bad.

"Prepare to be underwhelmed," is my best advice for British Airways.

The showers are a case in point. In the First Lounge, they are outside in the spa. We went into the lounge, I downed a bubbly, sat John down with his iPad and the free wifi, then went out of the lounge to have a much needed shower.

The showers became a bit of a theme during the trip and I think we were well into America before we found one with the same controls as we'd had before.

Every day a new nightmare, and it's a matter of hope and spray when you're at your most vulnerable. Freezing cold or extra hot on your bare skin.

These were something special. Three control knobs and some buttons. I stood there in my skin, looking for an instruction manual.

By guess and by gosh I ended up with a welcome wash, but the weird sucking and gurgling noises from below kind of put me off my game. I love a good shower when traveling, recharges the batteries and sets you up nicely and I give my sweetest smiles to the shower attendants as I bounce out, freshly shaven and shampooed and all the rest of it.

This time, not so much.

I went inside to collect John and he wanted a shower, so I had to escort him outside and hang around the stairwell while he had his scrub. I have the platinum card, you see.

I played around with my little point and shoot while I was waiting, and shot the shiney railing reflecting the blue lighting. Kind of neat, eh?

But every other lounge I've been in, they have their showers inside.

 

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That’s not a pie! (17 September 2014 afternoon Heathrow)




After we had showered, had a glass or two of something nice, checked our social circle on the free wifi, we headed for dinner.

There's plenty to eat here. Packets of chips and nuts and munchies at the various small bars scattered around, and there's a dining area.

There are menus showing a selection of dishes, but I've never ever seen anyone here eating off the menu. They all go to the buffet.

The food available isn't bad. It's a little stodgy, but it's very British, with some Asian and African dishes.

Salad and cheeses and cold meats and desserts here and there.

But serve yourself. John served himself a meat pie. Meat pies in Australia are piping hot constructions of flakey golden pastry with a hot mixture of meat chunks and gravy inside. A meal in itself.

In the UK, somewhat less so. Cold, mostly air inside, a cold congealed hunk of minced pork hiding on the bottom. I thought he might throw it at somebody!

We made a good meal, lingering over desserts and coffee. There may have been another Manhattan involved - I don't remember.

 

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The Flying Scotsman (17 September 2014 evening Heathrow to Edinburgh)





Eventually our flight showed up on the monitor and we headed off.

Other end of the terminal, same gate as the last time I took this flight, a year or so back. Completely full flight, we'd been told, and we'd been lucky to get seats at all.

I guess a lot of the passengers were Scots heading back for the Scottish Independence Referendum to be held the following day.

There was a long line at the gate, many of them watching a television screen showing a speech by the YES leader. He was speaking from Perth, of all places. Maybe he could see the writing on the wall.

What can I say? Night flight, seated in middle centre seats on a 767. I did my best to meditate all through the flight - every now and then someone would nudge me when the snoring grew too intense.

We took off in the dark, flew in the dark, landed in the dark. An anxious wait by the luggage carousel, but our bags had made the flight along with us.

We got some money from an autoteller - crisp Scottish banknotes - and found our way to the taxi rank. Waiting in line we saw a big purple thistle, as per the photograph.

Very Scottish, I thought, but it was just the airport control tower.

 

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Scotyes (17 September 2014 evening Heathrow to Edinburgh)




We shuffled along the taxi queue until we got to the head. There was a marshal to keep things moving smoothly, but it was nearly midnight, and there weren't as many taxis as there might be.

Eventually one came along and we loaded it up. I like British "black cabs" - they are designed for practicality. Big luggage compartment beside the driver, room for five passengers in the back, extra space for cargo if you fold up the jump seats.

We had a chatty driver - or maybe it's just me, but we had an enjoyable ride into town.

I'd carefully selected our hotel so it wasn't too far from the car rental agency. In two days' time we'd need to drag our bags two or three cobblestoned blocks, but I figured it would be better than calling a cab for a short trip.

This was the night before the referendum, and the place was festooned with placards and banners urging a YES or NO vote. Scottish flags were everywhere. The photo above is from the following day, but it gives an idea of the mood of the city.

I was able to follow most of the trip, but as we came into the Old Town, the driver ducked off past the Law Courts and we crossed over Waverley on North Bridge. It was fairly misty as well, so although I was looking out for the Castle, I couldn't show it to John. That would have been cool.

I resisted the urge to tell the cabbie that our street was just up ahead on the right. He surely knew which one it was, and I might have been wrong.

But I wasn't. We unloaded our bags outside our boutique hotel - I'd rung from London to let them know we'd be late - and pressed the buzzer.

 

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Regent House (18 September 2014 very early morning Edinburgh)



I'd picked this hotel because of the location and the online reviews weren't too bad. Only a couple of blocks from the car rental place, likewise from Edinburgh's Princes Street, we'd be close to everything.

But for now, watching the taillights of our taxi disappear, two weary Aussies contemplated the four big bags and the firmly closed front door.

I leaned on the buzzer again. And again. Pounded the solid door. Looked like they'd forgotten us. After about ten minutes, we were thinking of just falling asleep in the street.

I dug through the remnants of battery charge on my Macbook, found the original booking confirmation in my email, and happily found a phone number.

And luckily my phone still had some charge.

"Och aye, the bell sometimes disnae work," came a voice down the line, at enormous expense.

A few moments later we were ushered in, signed the paperwork and handed the key to a room up a couple of flights of narrow, winding staircase.

"Um, is the lift not working?" I asked hopefully.

"Goodnight," he said.

We lugged our bags up, opened the door and found that yes indeed, it was technically a twin room, but only by about half a metre. We didn't find a twin room any tighter until we got to Tokyo, but at this stage, we woulda slept on the carpet.

 

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Regent House (18 September 2014 morning Edinburgh)



The room was small, but it had an ensuite bathroom. Now, I've seen small bathrooms before, but this was a winner. Even our later hotel room in Tokyo had a more generous ensuite.

I'm not too sure how much shows in the photo, but it contains a tiny shower cubicle, a narrow toilet section, just enough room for a basin, and none of it is big enough a decent cat in.

The preceding photo showed the total width of the room - two single beds and a narrow passage between. Well, the bathroom is the same width - minus the width of the door to get into the room in the first place.

And the depth is even smaller.

But hey, it all works.

We fall gratefully into bed and sleep like logs. The room might have its shortcomings, but it's just fine at the moment!

 

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Tight squeeze (18 September 2014 morning Edinburgh)



The shower had - inevitably - a new and different set of controls. Some had handles, some had taps, some had doodads, and this one had "One knob to rule them all", as John said.

Great fun in the morning when we awoke, took it in turns to shoehorn ourselves into the facilities, and prepared for the day ahead.

This day was a spare day. We didn't need to be anywhere. If we wanted, we could stay in bed and recover from the trip.
I always try to plan one day at the start of each trip like this. Afterwards, we can do a day's driving each day and be in a different city each night, but the first day after travelling halfway round the world, I can't guarantee ahead of time we'll be in fit shape to travel.

But that's OK. We can veg out if we want, we can go explore Edinburgh.

John was sleeping when brekkie began. I let him know the time it was to finish and went down to have some tucker.

And coffee. I need my morning coffee.

 

[oz_perspective]

Good read - am looking forward to the next installment!

 

[Skyring]

Good read - am looking forward to the next installment!

Thanks! I've been away in Sydney for a bit. Now ggetting stuck back in. Best finish this before the next trip: Oxford, Scotland, Italy, in April.

 

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Mist Opportunity (18 September 2014 morning Edinburgh)
After breakfast we set out for a day of exploring the city. Our hotel was only a short walk from Princes Street, and as the castle came into view I pointed it out to John.

Not quite the sparkling clear day I’d hoped for – we only had one full day in Edinburgh – but even on a misty grey day it was still a sight worth seeing. Kind of moody and evocative, too.

Princes Street is a delight. Busy with pedestrians, cabs, buses and trams, it is Edinburgh’s main shopping street, and some of the buildings are artful confections of stonework. Real old school department stores.

On the other side, there is Waverly Station and then the view opens up over the Princes Street Gardens with the castle rising beyond, grim and majestic.

This side is the New Town, a planned grid of Georgian streets with little formal parks here and there. On the castle side, it’s all Old Town, the Royal Mile ascending the ridge in a clutter of ancient buildings, laneways and closes to the castle perched on its crag.

We’d have a look later on, if the weather cleared.

 

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iPadCam (18 September 2014 morning Edinburgh)

It’s a little known fact that I buy all my underwear overseas. Ever since Cathay Pacific mislaid my baggage in Singapore and left me stranded in Dublin.
I went into Marks and Spencers, bought a packet of undies, and a jacket ‘cos it was cold, and ever since I’ve liked having Marks and Sparks to distinguish me from anyone else using the same washing machine. Like my son.

Mind you, all these things are made in China nowadays, it’s just the brand names are different.

So I ducked into the M&S store on Princes Street. I know where the menswear section is now, and I got my regular order, along with a jacket and a flat cap for John. Which is what he’s wearing in the photo above, where he scorned my offer of a Canon Eos M camera in favour of his iPad.

“I can post them straight up to Facebook,” he said.

And for the rest of the trip, that’s exactly what he did. The camera in the iPad is quite acceptable for holiday snaps, and any time we got a bit of wifi, he just bulk uploaded all his pictures, sharing the trip with his friends back home.

Here’s one of the iPad shots:


Full size, it’s not too bad. Sometimes he managed to grab a shot that was better than mine from my rather more professional camera. I’ll add a few of these into future posts.

 

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Camping at Starbucks (18 September 2014 morning Edinburgh)
I’m a big fan of Starbucks. Not necessarily because I love their coffee. It’s okay, but a good barista will always be able to make a better cuppa. At least it’s not going to be flat-out horrible, like so much American coffee is.

I like that they provide a comfortable, convenient environment with good drinks and snacks, and best of all, free wifi. On the road, that’s gold.

Edinburgh has two Starbucks on Princes Street. I like this one a wee bit better – it has a view of the Castle.

I left John chewing up the wifi while I ducked down the street into an electronics shop. I needed a universal adaptor so that I could plug in my powerboard. I had an Australian powerboard with six outlets and a couple of USB sockets. Great for plugging in all my devices and rechargers without having to get a separate adaptor for each, you see. And just try to find a spare power outlet in some of these cramped old hotel rooms!

I generally buy a souvenir Starbucks coffee mug, but I’d already bought one last year. I have a collection of about a hundred at home and I cycle through them, each one bringing forth memories of previous trips.

So we recharged our inner batteries with fresh coffee before setting off to explore the Scottish capital.