Ok, home city welcomed me with sleet, frost, grey mornings and what not. The skin on my hands all but dried up from the cold. The stomach reacted happily to the home visit though: finally something actually cooked as opposed to cold tuna sandwiches. I will be a horrible cook and wife. Update! First new hairstyle in five (or six?..) years. Now Anute has a crooked fringe and has gone shorter-haired and funkier. I have to correspond, you know, now that I have a trendy accessory - iPod.
The returning flight went my style. Amid useless advertising and charity lottery tickets sales, the cabin crew threw in a casual "due to poor weather conditions in Frankfurt Hahn, we will be landing in Köln/Bonn airport instead". It is a joke, we decided, nipping each other to stimulate the waking-up. Ten minutes later, my feet touched the Köln/Bonn grounds. A nameless customs officer looked at every (!) single page in my passport and stamped (!!!) it, 1.5 years after Latvia had joined the European Union. Thank you, mein Herr, for something to remind me of this night later.
What a typical story... all the trains have gone... all the buses have left... wait, one bus especially arranged to take us happy all to... Frankfurt Hahn! What a blessing, all the way into the centre of the Universe. Estimated time of arrival: 2 a.m. The bus is full. Two hours of waiting at Hahn airport. Another bus is especially arranged into the city. I can hardly believe it when I am finally in Frankfurt. My watch shows 5:30 a.m. Long-desired hot shower, one hour's sleep and straight into work. I swear this has reminded me of London!
The morale: if somebody is dying for a travel adventure, take me as a companion.
Monday, 21 November 2005
Friday, 11 November 2005
I saw Coldplay live last night
The anonymous warm-up "special guests" got on everybody's nerves with the electronic '80's sound a-la Soft Cell, Human League, or, whatever, Gary Numan. The keyboard-playing female moved to the music in a rather provocative fashion, but at least one could see somebody enjoying their material. First rule of the day: never invite a warm-up band with tonnes of non-compatible equipment... it took forever to dissemble and tag away all the blinking lights, keyboards, and drums, to pave the way for the band everyone came to see... Coldplay. Some had travelled even longer distances than myself just to listen to them.
The English band took a while to begin, but the crowd forgave everything when Chris Martin appeared at the back of the stage, holding up the mic and rolling out the wonderful "Square One" from the latest album "X & Y". The dynamic frontman whistled through the stage back and forth, and, thanks to my contact lenses especially attached for the occasion, I could enjoy his show to the full. In the beginning, the band seemed little more than random musicians who happened to play together, but the tension seemed to have eased off as the night gained swing. Coldplay noticeably started keeping closer together, which only added to the quality of the performance. Well done, guys.
Some highlights: I may be wrong, but the fans seemed particularly fond of "In My Place" from "A Rush of Blood to the Head". "Speed of Sound" went off incredibly well, as did my personal favourite "Talk", both from "X & Y". "Clocks" rocked with the memorable piano line, and "Yellow" was accompanied by yellow baloons flying around the concert hall. It was not only the big hits, however, and Coldplay did a great job on ballads such as "Swallowed in the Sea" and the title track "X & Y". During "Amsterdam", Chris forgot the words, let through an f-word, and apologised, "We have not played it for a few weeks". Bless you, my dear, anything tonight. He let the lyrics slip out of his mind on one other song. I think it was "'Til Kindgom Come". Another personal favourite of mine, "God Put a Smile Upon Your Face", put, erm, a smile upon my face (okay, cheesy-weesy, I know). The band closed with the latest single, "Fix You". Unforgettable.
Overall, Coldplay were great as expected. Thank you, guys, for the fantastic night.
The English band took a while to begin, but the crowd forgave everything when Chris Martin appeared at the back of the stage, holding up the mic and rolling out the wonderful "Square One" from the latest album "X & Y". The dynamic frontman whistled through the stage back and forth, and, thanks to my contact lenses especially attached for the occasion, I could enjoy his show to the full. In the beginning, the band seemed little more than random musicians who happened to play together, but the tension seemed to have eased off as the night gained swing. Coldplay noticeably started keeping closer together, which only added to the quality of the performance. Well done, guys.
Some highlights: I may be wrong, but the fans seemed particularly fond of "In My Place" from "A Rush of Blood to the Head". "Speed of Sound" went off incredibly well, as did my personal favourite "Talk", both from "X & Y". "Clocks" rocked with the memorable piano line, and "Yellow" was accompanied by yellow baloons flying around the concert hall. It was not only the big hits, however, and Coldplay did a great job on ballads such as "Swallowed in the Sea" and the title track "X & Y". During "Amsterdam", Chris forgot the words, let through an f-word, and apologised, "We have not played it for a few weeks". Bless you, my dear, anything tonight. He let the lyrics slip out of his mind on one other song. I think it was "'Til Kindgom Come". Another personal favourite of mine, "God Put a Smile Upon Your Face", put, erm, a smile upon my face (okay, cheesy-weesy, I know). The band closed with the latest single, "Fix You". Unforgettable.
Overall, Coldplay were great as expected. Thank you, guys, for the fantastic night.
Thursday, 10 November 2005
Teach me to travel, or missing my plane to Milano
WHY can't I travel like all humans? Something always has to happen. Either I have half an hour inbetween my connecting planes, and the first one is 29 minutes late, or I get stuck at the border, or else I miss the transport altogether. The "best" memory is returning from a US internship / summer institute in August 2004 and leaving for a DAAD-sponsored German course in Frankfurt... the same day, within a 2.5-hour gap. I was like, Privet, mamochka, kak dela, get me a taxi quick, off home, repack the suitcases in a record 30 minutes, get back on the same cab and rush back to the airport, elegantly waltzing into check-ins 15 seconds before closure. Mum was literally holding at her heart.
Even better - back from a summer school in Prague in August 2003, the bus gets hopelessly held up at the Czech-Polish border, I miss the connecting bus from Vilnius, get off at Kaunas, take a taxi to the Latvian border, catch the bus, get into Riga 2 hours before my ferry to Stockholm, repack within 20 minutes, stress out at Latvian traffic jams, get the right ferry, and finally fly out to my holiday in Norway from Sweden. Nice holiday in the end, but I had to sweat for it.
And, third time round, I have messed it up. My plane tickets for Milano from Frankfurt were booked nicely in August, everything planned, travel guides on Italy read through, all connections sorted. Perfect. I arrive at Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof in time to wave goodbye to my airport coach. Hello? The coach company changed its timetable two days before, and I have not noticed. The next coach is in one hour, and I might just be lucky to catch the plane. I give it a go, eat up my fingernails on the way to the Frankfurt Hahn airport, bump the airport doors open, run, sweep off obstacles in the form of young families with children and Turks with tonnes of luggage, storm the check-ins, but they are closed. Too late! The Milano plane will be leaving without me.
I call the hotel in Milano for cancellation, but they are keen to charge me anyway. This is getting worse. I have a nervous breakdown on the way back, call my mother and tell her how much I hate Finland (need a scapegoat desperately). Back at Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof, I suddenly get an idea. What if?.. At the counter, Ich möchte gern wissen, ob es immer noch Nachtzüge nach Mailand gibt? In half an hour, the lady says, but you need a reservation. Any cheap tickets, I ask, thinking about those 29 EUR Sparnacht offers. Oh no, she says, this is far too late, but she will check anyway. Oops, one bargain ticket still left. Ich nehme es, I scream. The Germans at the counter laugh in a very good-natured manner. I want to sing. Milano is near.
I could add the details of waking up on the train a few hours later, asking myself where I was, seeing the "Lugano" sign outside, patting the Swiss customs dog looking for drugs, and glaring at the Swiss Alps from the train window. Wonderful views and great experience of travelling to Italy overnight. Enough to say, however, that I made it to the hotel, met my friends in Milano, walked for hours and hours in the driving rain, took pictures, and, surprisingly, made it in time for my returning plane back to Frankfurt. What is next?
Another small detail worth mentioning though is a wonderful young Englishman I met on the bus to Bergamo airport. Tim, you have changed my entire perception of native Bristollers. Never again will I call them snobbish! Accept my repentance.
p.s. How could I ever forget my departure from beloved Helsinki?...
Even better - back from a summer school in Prague in August 2003, the bus gets hopelessly held up at the Czech-Polish border, I miss the connecting bus from Vilnius, get off at Kaunas, take a taxi to the Latvian border, catch the bus, get into Riga 2 hours before my ferry to Stockholm, repack within 20 minutes, stress out at Latvian traffic jams, get the right ferry, and finally fly out to my holiday in Norway from Sweden. Nice holiday in the end, but I had to sweat for it.
And, third time round, I have messed it up. My plane tickets for Milano from Frankfurt were booked nicely in August, everything planned, travel guides on Italy read through, all connections sorted. Perfect. I arrive at Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof in time to wave goodbye to my airport coach. Hello? The coach company changed its timetable two days before, and I have not noticed. The next coach is in one hour, and I might just be lucky to catch the plane. I give it a go, eat up my fingernails on the way to the Frankfurt Hahn airport, bump the airport doors open, run, sweep off obstacles in the form of young families with children and Turks with tonnes of luggage, storm the check-ins, but they are closed. Too late! The Milano plane will be leaving without me.
I call the hotel in Milano for cancellation, but they are keen to charge me anyway. This is getting worse. I have a nervous breakdown on the way back, call my mother and tell her how much I hate Finland (need a scapegoat desperately). Back at Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof, I suddenly get an idea. What if?.. At the counter, Ich möchte gern wissen, ob es immer noch Nachtzüge nach Mailand gibt? In half an hour, the lady says, but you need a reservation. Any cheap tickets, I ask, thinking about those 29 EUR Sparnacht offers. Oh no, she says, this is far too late, but she will check anyway. Oops, one bargain ticket still left. Ich nehme es, I scream. The Germans at the counter laugh in a very good-natured manner. I want to sing. Milano is near.
I could add the details of waking up on the train a few hours later, asking myself where I was, seeing the "Lugano" sign outside, patting the Swiss customs dog looking for drugs, and glaring at the Swiss Alps from the train window. Wonderful views and great experience of travelling to Italy overnight. Enough to say, however, that I made it to the hotel, met my friends in Milano, walked for hours and hours in the driving rain, took pictures, and, surprisingly, made it in time for my returning plane back to Frankfurt. What is next?
Another small detail worth mentioning though is a wonderful young Englishman I met on the bus to Bergamo airport. Tim, you have changed my entire perception of native Bristollers. Never again will I call them snobbish! Accept my repentance.
p.s. How could I ever forget my departure from beloved Helsinki?...
Tuesday, 8 November 2005
Visit to PARIS
As promised before, more details from my first encounter with Paris:
Friday, 28 Oct, 10 pm: I board an overnight Eurolines bus from Frankfurt/Main, which is meant to be fun. The highlights of my journey are (in order of decreasing importance): hitting an old French lady in my sleep, waking up and finding out the lady was material and sitting next to me on the bus (oops), passport check at the French/German border, French customs officer trying to tear out the long expired US visa from my passport, pretending to be asleep and snoring to avoid further old ladies landing next to me.
Saturday, 29 Oct, 6 am: Arrival in Paris International Bus Station (Gallieni). It is actually well out of the city centre. The bus comes in one hour early, and I must wait for my friend Inna to collect my mortal remains at 7 am. In the meantime, I take my Adidas luggage bag for a walk around, but there is not much to see.
Saturday, 29 Oct, 7 am: Inna comes in, looking so French I can hardly recognise her at first. Embraces, hellos, kisses, etc - we have not seen each other since September and would normally have to wait for another year until our encounter. Inna looks very tired, poor thing, but still fresh enough with me as a background. Never mind the looks - I am hyper and ready to discover Paris!
Saturday, 29 Oct, 9 am: Bags are dropped, showers are paid duty, and hot cocoa does its job - we are out in the city! Tour Eiffel is the first in line, and the view is stunning. I know it is the most typical sight one knows from France. I am also aware that France is the most visited country in the world, but it is my very own, personal first time! I spend half an hour taking pictures. Little do I know how many more will still come.
Saturday, 29 Oct, 2 pm: After a grand walking tour courtesy of Inna, we head home for some lunch. The walking tour followed the route Tour Eiffel - along the Seine - Invalides - Louvre - L'Ile de la Cite - Notre Dame de Paris - Champs d'Elysees. Inna is almost dead, but I insist on continuing. Sighing, she agrees. I guess I am not getting another visit invitation.
Saturday, 29 Oct, 7 pm: We are standing on top of the hill housing Basilique Sacre Coeur. At my feet, ladies and gentlemen, there is PARIS at its best, glowing with mild sunset, swarming with tourists, breezing with the smell of baguettes! Tonight, just tonight, I am allowed to be stereotypical. Behind our shoulders today, we have left Bois de Boulogne, Avenue Foch, and walking all the way to Sacre Coeur. I have stopped asking my dear Inna how she is doing and selfishly think everyone could benefit from some exercise. Next stop - Moulin Rouge, through the infamous area of Clichy. The streets are full of sex shops... I try not to look.
Saturday, 29 Oct, 9 pm: We arrive home, having stopped at Trocadero to take pictures of the Tour Eiffel lit by thousands of artificial lights. At the beginning of every hour, the tower begins blinking beautifully, arousing exclamations of tourists. The view is incredible, and I take some of the best pictures of my journey. Vive la France!
The end of Day 1. Day 2 will never follow, by the way.
Friday, 28 Oct, 10 pm: I board an overnight Eurolines bus from Frankfurt/Main, which is meant to be fun. The highlights of my journey are (in order of decreasing importance): hitting an old French lady in my sleep, waking up and finding out the lady was material and sitting next to me on the bus (oops), passport check at the French/German border, French customs officer trying to tear out the long expired US visa from my passport, pretending to be asleep and snoring to avoid further old ladies landing next to me.
Saturday, 29 Oct, 6 am: Arrival in Paris International Bus Station (Gallieni). It is actually well out of the city centre. The bus comes in one hour early, and I must wait for my friend Inna to collect my mortal remains at 7 am. In the meantime, I take my Adidas luggage bag for a walk around, but there is not much to see.
Saturday, 29 Oct, 7 am: Inna comes in, looking so French I can hardly recognise her at first. Embraces, hellos, kisses, etc - we have not seen each other since September and would normally have to wait for another year until our encounter. Inna looks very tired, poor thing, but still fresh enough with me as a background. Never mind the looks - I am hyper and ready to discover Paris!
Saturday, 29 Oct, 9 am: Bags are dropped, showers are paid duty, and hot cocoa does its job - we are out in the city! Tour Eiffel is the first in line, and the view is stunning. I know it is the most typical sight one knows from France. I am also aware that France is the most visited country in the world, but it is my very own, personal first time! I spend half an hour taking pictures. Little do I know how many more will still come.
Saturday, 29 Oct, 2 pm: After a grand walking tour courtesy of Inna, we head home for some lunch. The walking tour followed the route Tour Eiffel - along the Seine - Invalides - Louvre - L'Ile de la Cite - Notre Dame de Paris - Champs d'Elysees. Inna is almost dead, but I insist on continuing. Sighing, she agrees. I guess I am not getting another visit invitation.
Saturday, 29 Oct, 7 pm: We are standing on top of the hill housing Basilique Sacre Coeur. At my feet, ladies and gentlemen, there is PARIS at its best, glowing with mild sunset, swarming with tourists, breezing with the smell of baguettes! Tonight, just tonight, I am allowed to be stereotypical. Behind our shoulders today, we have left Bois de Boulogne, Avenue Foch, and walking all the way to Sacre Coeur. I have stopped asking my dear Inna how she is doing and selfishly think everyone could benefit from some exercise. Next stop - Moulin Rouge, through the infamous area of Clichy. The streets are full of sex shops... I try not to look.
Saturday, 29 Oct, 9 pm: We arrive home, having stopped at Trocadero to take pictures of the Tour Eiffel lit by thousands of artificial lights. At the beginning of every hour, the tower begins blinking beautifully, arousing exclamations of tourists. The view is incredible, and I take some of the best pictures of my journey. Vive la France!
The end of Day 1. Day 2 will never follow, by the way.
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