The White Lily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewhitelily) wrote2009-05-10 07:21 am
thewhitelily) wrote2009-05-10 07:21 am
Entry tags:
Europe 2009, Day 0: Blogs on a Plane!
I guess this may be the first many people have heard about it, but I'm off to Europe. In fact, I've already gone.
I've been meaning to update about many things in the last few weeks--my package from the US, my dubiously awesome Eye-Fi wireless SD card, my packing list, my itinerary, my struggles finishing this year's Mystery Festival before leaving, even the Storey Bridge Climb, which is actually mostly unrelated to my trip.
Unfortunately the conmbination of interesting and eminantly bloggable events has left me with a ridiculous dearth of time in which to actually update said blog. (Unlike usual, when it's the dearth of material which prevents regular updates.)
In any case, on May 8th, at 2:45, with all packages unpacked, wireless cards wired, packs packed, itineraries itineraried, bridges climbed, and mysteries--mostly!--solved, my cousin and I waved goodbye to Hubby and climbed aboard a flight to London for eight and a half weeks ofnon-stop-Hubbieless-partying backpacking through Europe.
Our itinerary, roughly, is one week in the UK, two and a half weeks on an organised bus tour of western Europe, three and a half weeks with a Eurail pass and no plans, and one week in Scandinavia.
At the moment, on the plane between Brisbane and Singapore at 9:00am London time on a day that's already been eighteen hours long, in a week that's been eighteen hours short on sleep, I should be writing the Mystery Festival. I should, and I have been, and maybe it's the lack of sleep, but damn this stuff I've already written is good.
I only wish I feel like I could write stuff half this good for the rest of it. I know it's in there--all I have to do is get it out onto paper. Some time in the next twenty hours.
That can't be so hard!
Can it?
10:15am:
Evidently it's not if I make the whole thing pop-sci-fi references. The kids'll love that. Oh well, they didn't get my Archimedes/bath references last year, either.
11:30am:
You know, I think this might just be the most productive way to get work done ever. A deadline--always known to motivate the Lily, and one square metre box into which I've been strapped.
I've apparently got over the usual paranoia that--ZOMG!--the person next to me might read what I'm writing, although that might just be because the man sitting next to me is clearly similarly deadline driven as he's spent the entire flight so far frantically organising some kind of presentation--perhaps a business plan he's pitching to foreign investors?--and clearly hasn't got a moment to bless himself, let alone look at what I'm writing, let alone care enough that I'm worried I have to write perfectly in case he sees something I knew was wrong and thinks I'm an idiot. (Yes, I know the chances of that are pretty slim, and even if they did, there's no reason I should care. Shh. It's called paranoia for a reason.Unless they really are out to get you!)
Where was I? Oh yes. So I don't know whether it's that I know he isn't looking, or that it's some kind of reciprocal trust because he's working too, or that I've realised anew that the sidelong glances necessary to determine what someone's doing without crossing the bounds of propriety into staring are not enough to form an opinion as to the quality of the workmanship.
Will it last until the next flight, when I'm sitting next to someone else?
Presumably not. But I can dream.
12:20pm:
The passenger on the other side of my cousin on the flight from Brisbane (we were lucky enough to score the middle two seats of the aisle four for both flights) is a different kind of neighbor.
Every time the hostess cmoes by to ask if people want drinks,(which is quite regularly) he asks for a coke. Fine. I'm a coke drinker myself. Also fine is the flask of Jack Daniels he was topping up the requested coke. Slightly more worrying were the amounts involved. Not one to generally criticise (or be in a position to criticise) another's drinking habits, the fact of being strapped within a metre of someone who may be seriously overestimating his capacity for alcohol, I feel, gives one the right to hold an opinion, or at least entertain a fear.
Not only the glass with the coke in it undertook topping up, but also the empty glass, and in slightly alarming amounts. At one point (admittedly, the glass was half full (insert personality deconstruction here)) just after turbulance had been announced and started to be felt the glass was topped up to such a level that the meniscus was way over the rim of the glass.
I'm very surprised Emma didn't get it all over her. Nonetheless despite initial privately held concerns by both of us, he turned out to be a very nice, quiet neighbor who could obviously just seriously hold his liquor.
Next thrilling installment: Is Mrs. Next Door's pink neck pillow up with the latest of parisian fashions, or merely an eyesore?
4:30pm
Singapore Airport is quite simply the mjost fabulous airport I've ever had the pleasure to transfer through. Designed for the comfort of transiting passengers, there's free massage chairs (which were unfortunately all occupied as we walked passed), sleeping lounges, showers, a butterfly garden, koi ponds, greenery everywhere, and the gentlest, quietest, most non-intrusive musak I've ever heard.
It's also blisteringly clean. I'm serious. When we walked past at what was nearing 11pm Singapore time, I saw a guy polishing the stands the fire extinguishers stood on. And not just a quick wipe, either, but full on elbow-greasing-put-your-arse-into-gear-polishing.
And did I mention the free wi-fi and internet access?
5:20pm
Done with the full draft of the Mystery Festival. From here on, it's all typing, polishing, and proofing. Which is not to say that there's not stuff still to go, but... yay me!
5:30pm
I must say that this flight feels so much less onerous looking back on it than it did, in fact, at the time.
At one point we tried to watch Paul Bart, Mall Cop after dinner to keep us awake, but gave it up as a bad job half an hour later and switched to Yes Man, which was quite acceptable.
Singapore Airlines, in general, comes just as highly recommended as the airport. The food was all universally excellent, the service of drinks, etc, was prompt, and the entertainment system was top notch. As to the clincher, there was a power point in the arm rest.
A POWER POINT!
And me, flying with no power cord for my laptop. Packing light pshaw!
Ah, well. the flight home's looking up.
I've been meaning to update about many things in the last few weeks--my package from the US, my dubiously awesome Eye-Fi wireless SD card, my packing list, my itinerary, my struggles finishing this year's Mystery Festival before leaving, even the Storey Bridge Climb, which is actually mostly unrelated to my trip.
Unfortunately the conmbination of interesting and eminantly bloggable events has left me with a ridiculous dearth of time in which to actually update said blog. (Unlike usual, when it's the dearth of material which prevents regular updates.)
In any case, on May 8th, at 2:45, with all packages unpacked, wireless cards wired, packs packed, itineraries itineraried, bridges climbed, and mysteries--mostly!--solved, my cousin and I waved goodbye to Hubby and climbed aboard a flight to London for eight and a half weeks of
Our itinerary, roughly, is one week in the UK, two and a half weeks on an organised bus tour of western Europe, three and a half weeks with a Eurail pass and no plans, and one week in Scandinavia.
At the moment, on the plane between Brisbane and Singapore at 9:00am London time on a day that's already been eighteen hours long, in a week that's been eighteen hours short on sleep, I should be writing the Mystery Festival. I should, and I have been, and maybe it's the lack of sleep, but damn this stuff I've already written is good.
I only wish I feel like I could write stuff half this good for the rest of it. I know it's in there--all I have to do is get it out onto paper. Some time in the next twenty hours.
That can't be so hard!
Can it?
10:15am:
Evidently it's not if I make the whole thing pop-sci-fi references. The kids'll love that. Oh well, they didn't get my Archimedes/bath references last year, either.
11:30am:
You know, I think this might just be the most productive way to get work done ever. A deadline--always known to motivate the Lily, and one square metre box into which I've been strapped.
I've apparently got over the usual paranoia that--ZOMG!--the person next to me might read what I'm writing, although that might just be because the man sitting next to me is clearly similarly deadline driven as he's spent the entire flight so far frantically organising some kind of presentation--perhaps a business plan he's pitching to foreign investors?--and clearly hasn't got a moment to bless himself, let alone look at what I'm writing, let alone care enough that I'm worried I have to write perfectly in case he sees something I knew was wrong and thinks I'm an idiot. (Yes, I know the chances of that are pretty slim, and even if they did, there's no reason I should care. Shh. It's called paranoia for a reason.
Where was I? Oh yes. So I don't know whether it's that I know he isn't looking, or that it's some kind of reciprocal trust because he's working too, or that I've realised anew that the sidelong glances necessary to determine what someone's doing without crossing the bounds of propriety into staring are not enough to form an opinion as to the quality of the workmanship.
Will it last until the next flight, when I'm sitting next to someone else?
Presumably not. But I can dream.
12:20pm:
The passenger on the other side of my cousin on the flight from Brisbane (we were lucky enough to score the middle two seats of the aisle four for both flights) is a different kind of neighbor.
Every time the hostess cmoes by to ask if people want drinks,(which is quite regularly) he asks for a coke. Fine. I'm a coke drinker myself. Also fine is the flask of Jack Daniels he was topping up the requested coke. Slightly more worrying were the amounts involved. Not one to generally criticise (or be in a position to criticise) another's drinking habits, the fact of being strapped within a metre of someone who may be seriously overestimating his capacity for alcohol, I feel, gives one the right to hold an opinion, or at least entertain a fear.
Not only the glass with the coke in it undertook topping up, but also the empty glass, and in slightly alarming amounts. At one point (admittedly, the glass was half full (insert personality deconstruction here)) just after turbulance had been announced and started to be felt the glass was topped up to such a level that the meniscus was way over the rim of the glass.
I'm very surprised Emma didn't get it all over her. Nonetheless despite initial privately held concerns by both of us, he turned out to be a very nice, quiet neighbor who could obviously just seriously hold his liquor.
Next thrilling installment: Is Mrs. Next Door's pink neck pillow up with the latest of parisian fashions, or merely an eyesore?
4:30pm
Singapore Airport is quite simply the mjost fabulous airport I've ever had the pleasure to transfer through. Designed for the comfort of transiting passengers, there's free massage chairs (which were unfortunately all occupied as we walked passed), sleeping lounges, showers, a butterfly garden, koi ponds, greenery everywhere, and the gentlest, quietest, most non-intrusive musak I've ever heard.
It's also blisteringly clean. I'm serious. When we walked past at what was nearing 11pm Singapore time, I saw a guy polishing the stands the fire extinguishers stood on. And not just a quick wipe, either, but full on elbow-greasing-put-your-arse-into-gear-polishing.
And did I mention the free wi-fi and internet access?
5:20pm
Done with the full draft of the Mystery Festival. From here on, it's all typing, polishing, and proofing. Which is not to say that there's not stuff still to go, but... yay me!
5:30pm
I must say that this flight feels so much less onerous looking back on it than it did, in fact, at the time.
At one point we tried to watch Paul Bart, Mall Cop after dinner to keep us awake, but gave it up as a bad job half an hour later and switched to Yes Man, which was quite acceptable.
Singapore Airlines, in general, comes just as highly recommended as the airport. The food was all universally excellent, the service of drinks, etc, was prompt, and the entertainment system was top notch. As to the clincher, there was a power point in the arm rest.
A POWER POINT!
And me, flying with no power cord for my laptop. Packing light pshaw!
Ah, well. the flight home's looking up.