Survival tips for sleeping at the airport:
1) Don't do it. You'd get a better nights sleep in a football stadium at the World Cup Final.
2) Should you attempt such madness, be aware that you will have to rugby tackle about seven other sleep-deprived passengers for the seats without the annoying armrests, so that you can lay down without looking like a pretzel.
3) Ear plugs are a must. Else you will find yourself falling in and out of sleep to the rhythm of the floor polishing machine, whose grating tune is on constant rotation from 1am until the moment you decide you can't bear it any longer.
4) Do not, by any means, choose a spot near to any of these mental stability hazards: children, revolving doors, air conditioning units, early-opening restaurants, McDonalds (absurd opening hours) or pubs (ditto aforementioned).
5) Getting a sleeping bag out is highly optimistic.
Even in full knowledge of these pointers, getting anything more than twenty minutes shut-eye was a mean feat, and meant that we looked a little worse for wear the next morning.
Of course, B looked a little better than I did; me being resolved to carrying almost zero makeup (attempts to quash the diva within were going strong at this stage, but then I hadn't yet been forced to confront the result in a mirror), but as you can see, the sleep deprivation was taking its toll, and this was AFTER a big fry-up for breakfast. I am almost loathe to post the picture of me, but I have a sneaky suspicion that my beautiful man will not be pleased about the inequality of the situation if I don't, so here goes.
Fabulous isn't it. Oh and before I forget, I suppose I ought to post a picture of my backpack; which was shortly to become both my best friend and occasionally the bain of my existance. By the end of the trip I didn't want to take it off.
It looks a lot smaller than it felt, I assure you.
And so, to Rome. Land of pizza...and baby octopus.
And so I arrived this morning; several shades darker, a fine layer of grime covering my clothes, my backpack sitting comfortably on my hips, my hair in a maniacal disarray. The real traveller within has finally emerged.
As I sat on my forty minute flight to Stansted from Amsterdam's Schiphol airport, it suddenly occurred that I have encountered more in the last two weeks than I have in my entire life in terms of history, culture, food, dodgy toilets...
I made mental lists of the different loo-types I've come across (automatic, hole-in-the-ground, no light, no loo roll, sand paper loo-roll, foot-pump activated, luxury, downright gross, suction-based, Victorian style, free, expensive, etc etc), the number and type of pizzas I've eaten (probably reaching the mid-twenties by now; pizza seems to be the universal European specialty. I have discovered that Fungi e Proscuitto is still my all time favourite, although B did actually get me eating Vegetarian in a vain attempt to 'eat healthily'), the hours spent in transit (sixty-seven, if you were curious) and the many languages in which I have learnt the simple word, 'Thank you'.
It seems fairly absurd that so much should be able to occur in two weeks on top of the expected mad dash sight-seeing, so it ought to come as little surprise that I've not had enough time to pick my nose, let alone write about it, bloody hell.
Which is why I am now sat, armed with only half of my photos (we took 1,146 altogether I think), and my day journal, with my newly acquired worry-beads wrapped around my arm, wondering exactly how on earth I will manage to remember it all.
Shall we start at the beginning? Wasn't it Maria from The Sound Of Music that said it was a 'very good place to start'? The beginning it is then. Vamos.
Until I set up camp at Heathrow Airport and settle down for a night of security announcements and the cold floor treatment. I've done it twice before, the last time being before my flight to Budapest, and it wasn't much fun, although at least this time I can be assured of some sleep; I'm not carrying that sleeping bag and mat for nothing. Last time I ended up staring up at the white ceiling while listening to Ketama and being periodically blasted with cold air each time the door revolved around.
I got my backpack last week through the post. It looks a lot smaller than it did in the shop in terms of capacity, and yet still manages to swamp me when I put it on. I'm yet to do a trial-pack, just incase I discover that nothing fits. I'm almost certain that it won't be big enough for an entire month in Thailand (God forbid I actually have to do laundry) but it ought to last for Europe.
I had to sit on my hands a few times last week in response to a growing urge to book swanky hotels. I succumbed finally to this one and only narrowly avoided booking this one instead.The inner princess is stealthily rebelling against the hostel situation, it seems. It's just that they're so cheap in Bangkok! £23 per person, per night - including breakfast! Nonetheless, I am determined that two nights of comfortable bliss will not really ruin the experience of six weeks roughing it, and so have allowed myself this one indulgence.
The list of things still to do before I leave is quite immense. I still have to buy trekking shoes and clothes (at the moment my wardrobe consists of jeans and skirts, and nothing inbetween), photocopy all of my documents and tickets, reserve a space on the Eurostar Italia, put together a first aid kit, get a new memory card for my camera and buy a daypack.
B is imploring me to promise not to spend the entire two weeks in Europe blogging pictures and things, but I have promised to do it only when he is tucked up in bed and will therefore no longer notice my presence anyway. Expect a lot of late night postings!
Urgh. I have just looked into the atrium at work (From my desk, there are no windows, so I rely on the colour of the atrium to inform me of the state of the outside world. Sad, I know, but true.) and it's grey. Dark, like it ought to be come November at 5pm. I suppose it must be raining, yet again. What a wash-out summer we've had. Roll on Italian sunshine, I say. Nineteen days and counting...
By the end of January 2008, I will have visited more countries this year than I have over the previous five. Having been accustomed to five star hotels in the Caribbean, boutique hotels in Budapest and rooms with Eiffel Tower views in Paris, the next few trips ought to remove me completely from any kind of comfort zone and throw me headfirst into the proverbial deep end.
For one thing, instead of toting around with matching suitcases on wheels, I will be shouldering a backpack taller than me (admittedly, at a meagre 5ft 4in, it isn't difficult to outgrow me) and attempting not to fill it with jewellery I won't wear, makeup I won't use, and shoes I won't need. For another, I will spend much of my dozing time aboard sleeper trains or *gasp* the floor of a mud hut. The inner princess is truly being exorcised. Go, me.
The truth is that I've been longing to travel for ages, and all anecdotes and jokes aside, the idea is as terrifying as it is exciting. This is entirely new, unbelievably expensive, and there will not be a single manicure parlor in sight. I jest, I jest. I am not the airhead I portray myself to be.
And so, on to the Itinerary.
Europe trip begins at the end of July 2007. We are planning to do Italy, Croatia, Hungary, Austria, Germany and The Netherlands in two weeks via Inter-railing. Are we mad? Yes, probably, but that's half the fun. As long as I get to taste real Italian pizza, do a bit of sailing in Croatia, see mountains in Austria and do a bit of clubbing in Berlin, I'll be happy.
Thailand will commence in December and end in January 2008. Christmas will probably be spent in Chaing Mai, learning how to make a decent Thai Green Curry, and New Year will be ushered in with the sound of the Hornbill crying 'Gok Gok' in Khao Sok National Park.
Summer 2008 will be spent in Brazil or possibly Peru, following the Inca Trail or trekking the Amazon Jungle.
You are heartily invited to join me along my adventures, as I navigate my way through jungles and mountains and everything in-between.
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Pete said:
I can't wait to read more! :) Sure you will have a really great time, Alex.x read more
on And so it begins...
don't worry, you look pretty!!! hope your trip is worth for all that hassles you went through, and thanks for... read more
on Looking a little peeved...