My first trip out to Oz, some 25 years ago was so exciting! I flew Garuda Airlines which, I later realised, flew the ‘long way’ round. We stopped just about everywhere it was possible to stop… and included a one night stop-over in Bali.
There was a group of Glaswegians on the flight – who had enjoyed the ‘free’ alcohol so much that by the time we landed in Abu Dhabi they were, quite literally, on their knees. It was my first encounter with heavily armed security guards and I really did not like the way they looked at my fellow Brits who were crawling around the floor shouting to know where the airport bar was . I loved the airport: small but magnificent with its mosaic water spout. And I was even more impressed with how little I had to pay for three gold bracelets.
Whatever! We all got back on the plane apparently in one piece – and the Glaswegians subsided into silence after another round of drinks from the extremely friendly cabin crew.
I’m not sure whether the next stop was Bangkok or Singapore. The Glaswegians were asleep, and I was struggling to keep my eyes open – but I was determined not to to miss one minute of what I thought might be my once-in-a lifetime journey.
Next stop was Jakarta – the Glaswegians were still sleeping. I thought I would pass out from the wall of heat that hit me when I got out of the plane – but, still determined not to miss a thing, I staggered around the airport enchanted by the architecture – but wary of the armed security.
By the time I reached Bali, I was reeling. I think we ‘lost’ the Glaswegians in Jakarta – or maybe I was just too tired to notice them. I ate my meal, found my room, and collapsed. However, embedded in my mind is the memory of candle-lit dancers, haunting music, and the biggest prawns I’d ever, ever seen – let alone eaten.
The next morning I flew the last leg of my journey into Darwin airport – a metal aircraft hangar, with no air-conditioning, and security staff in shorts and long socks. But they weren’t armed, they smiled and asked me how I liked Australia.
That was a memorable journey – it was the first.
In the last 25 years I have travelled on Garuda, Lufthansa, Qantas, Olympic, Malaysian, Thai and Singapore Airlines – and probably some I’ve forgotten. I’ve returned to England at least once every year and stayed for between one and five months. That’s probably one of the reasons why I’ve never really settled here. After three 32- hour trips with Garuda I started looking for shorter travelling times – and finally settled on Singapore Airlines as my preferred carrier.
On Wednesday I’m on a plane – again! My mother is not well, and I need to go ‘home’.
That does not mean that you lot can dip out of my Creative Story Competition – I will need to read something interesting while I’m struggling with a UK winter!
My reason for mentioning the Glaswegians is that I think they had it right. The only way to cope with such a long journey is to sleep through it. I shall have a Singapore Sling followed by glass (or two!) of red wine, settle into my seat and try to sleep as long as I can!
Boadicea's Chariot 
Glaswegians usually have it right, Boadicea, where drink is concerned.
As I reported last year, my first, and so far, only trip to Oz was in a Quantas 380, with a stopover in Singapore. They had fixed the little problem with the engines by then, and there was not a blootered Caledonian in sight!
However, I do agree with you. The best way to overcome the rigours of the flight is to consume an elegant sufficient of your favourite tipple (mine is Scotch). I have adopted this many times on my frequent trans-Big Pond business and holiday trips. It is also a good idea to drink lots of water between naps, as this will both keep you moving and avoid DVTs when you go to the little persons room and also stop you getting dehydrated. The only problem here is ensuring you do not have to drive when you land 🙂
I hope your mother regains her health.
Bum! Elegant SUFFICIENCY!
Evenin’ Boadicea. I too have flown on a wide variety of airlines from British Airways and Quaintarse to tiny regional airlines in Africa and the Pacific islands. My favourite experiences were flying into the old Kai Tak airport on an Air Niugini A320 skippered by a couple of ex-RAAF F111 pilots who always aimed for the chequerboard like they were back on a low-level strafing mission, but my favourite carrier has to be Singapore Airlines. Business class is sumptuous, the food exquisite and the ‘Singapore girls’ stunning. Thai Airways comes a close second for much the same reasons. The worst of them all was the late, unlamented Belgian national carrier, Sabena, whose decor, food and cabin crew were uniformly grey and cold, but wild horses could never, ever, drag me onto a Garuda flight – you get better odds playing Russian roulette.
Have a safe, well lubricated flight and I wish your Mum a speedy recovery.
OZ
p.s. Who’s going to feed Bearsy, or are you taking him with you?
Sheona: I was once on a London Hellrow-Luxembourg flight and was seated next to
a Glaswegian woman of a certain age. In the hour-or-so long flight she managed to
consume 15 drinks, or about 7 small bottles. She was so pissed that I had to help her
out of the aeroplane and into the bus as she had difficulty standing.
Hello Boadicea. I have a large collection of siblings. As each of them grew up and flew the nest, they tended to return to England, the land of their birth. Initially, they would return to Rhodesia to visit family and friends and, because they missed it. However, the more they came back the more they struggled to settle in England. I once tried to persuade a newly married sister to return for a holiday. She said, I think very wisely, that she was not going to visit Rhodesia/Zimbabwe again until she knew for certain that she was English. It was almost a decade before she did by which time she was totally settled in the UK and had no desire to live in Africa. I, on the other hand kept going backwards and forwards and thus was never able to settle in England. I struggle even to go there for a visit. It is duty rather than pleasure that takes me there. Having first moved to the UK when I left school, I probably should never have come home.
It is interesting how one remembers one’s first trip to a country more than subsequent journeys there. I think my first abiding memory of OZ was the meter-maids with their sexy shorts and cool hats. I lived in Mosman, Sydney for a few months. Taking the ferry to the Rocks for a drink or 3 was one of the cooler aspects of living there.
As for flights and airlines, I think so much depends on the cabin crew. Living as I did in Atlanta, during the early 90s, I used to fly Delta Airlines a great deal. The crew were nearly always pretty dreadful, especially those in Business Class who were universally bitter, old nanny-goats, but I earned so many airmiles it was a no brainer. The crew on BA were far more friendly and it was a much better airline at that time.
Anyway, I hope your mother gets well.
Interesting comments re alcohol on past flights. Do that today and the airline wimps out and dumps you off in the jungle somewhere!
I too have to admit that constantly returning to ‘base’ gives one an ambivalence about both ‘ends’. Now that I have no reason to go back to the UK and have been here uninterruptedly for 3 years I have to admit to feeling more settled.
Best wishes for the health of your mother.
Sipu: the most dreadful bit is that, as US airlines go, Delta is by far the best.
For true horror you should have tried American Airlines or, heaven forbid, United Airlines.
True, Delta might have nanny-goats but United Airlines, especially, has incarnations of Attila the Hun
and Hannibal with their captive audiences.
Lobo: I’m rather partial to KLM, even though on my last flight (Amsterdam-Luxembourg via Copenhagen)
the air hostess in my part of the aeroplane was a spitting image of the Juliar. She even had the same nasal twang.
Christiina – I reckon that as long as you are civilised about it, you can still get quietly sozzled and sleep the long haul leg away, especially in business class or above. It’s the plebs at the back you have to worry about – getting smashed an’ all on their first and only ever flight and trying to open the door to get some fresh air.
Christopher – American airlines are as universally dire as American beer. I could, of course, be wrong, but I don’t think so. KLM rates marginally above SABENA in my estimation, about on a par with Air Berlin.
OZ
I do hope your mother’s illness is not too serious and that your flight is OK, not burdened with anxiety or drunks.
Boa, a couple of years ago I sat behind three young, Hibernian women who had tanked up before the DK/UK flight and started fist-fighting after we’d been airborne for half an hour or so. They were separated by patient crew members but continued to harangue one another until our arrival, when they were frog-marched from the ‘plane by police before we could disembark.
I wish you a safe and speedy journey.
God aften, Janus. Air travel all went pear-shaped when they allowed the great unwashed to fly. Y’know the UK stereotype – vest, knotted hankie, Union Jack shorts socks and sandals, necking the third pint of lager at six in the morning waiting for a bucket-shop flight to Benidorm, Albufeira or worse. Gets to check-in pissed and THEN starts looking for his passport and boarding pass, neither of which are together, somewhere in the oversized baggage he hopes to load in the cabin.
OZ
Agree with OZ in #12, one of the reasons I have stopped bothering with it.
The other was raghead interrogators in British airports picking over one’s baggage.
The whole point of looking over the damned baggage was to stop the bloody ragheads in the first place!
How dare they employ them in airports to supervise whites?
Anybody in the UK that wants to see me that much can bloody well come here!
Having been fortunate enough to have tucked myself up in a corner with very few vulgar peasants and no ragheads I really cannot see the point of bothering to go anywhere any more. In fact I think I would pay good money NOT to go!!
Thinking about it I have only been out of the County once in the last two years just to see the bulb fields in flower.
I shall stop going to Bellingham next! (15 miles down the road.)
Just talking to spousal unit and he said we only went to Canada once last year and that was to buy doughnuts! Crullers from ‘Tim Hortons’ are to die for, we split a box of a dozen between us at a sitting!
Oh dear oh dear, no hope no hope.
Just about to take the dogs for a walk down to the river, a major expedition all of 3 miles away…….
Hi, Boadicea.
I hope you have a good flight, and pack your winter woollens, it’s a tad chilly here at the moment.
Sorry to hear about your mother. Do keep in touch, you know where I am.
Hiya Christina. Towards the end of my globe-trotting days it became increasingly clear that when you arrived in Sydney or Brisbane, you were met by Australian immigration officials, at Changi they were Singaporeans, Papua New Guineans at Jackson’s and Chinese at Kai Tak. On our return to Thiefrow in the last days of 2003, we were greeted by an EU fast-track channel for the Germans and Italians whilst the Fijians, Australians and South Africans had to queue up to be interrogated by a Somali ‘Briton’.
“Welcome to the United States of Europe”, I muttered to A Zangada. “If it wasn’t for the EU, you’d be queuing up with everyone else”, quoth the headscarfed, dusky immigration functionary behind the counter. “Excuse me, miss. I have been Btitish since my first breath and I shall come and go to my country as I please” It was only A Zangada who defused a full blown “OZ” moment with frizzy fur, teeth and claws.
OZ
OZ a tale to warm your heart…
Some 6 years ago I converted my shop to a 4 bedroom house, I went back to Wales and supervised the job myself.
I managed to do the whole thing in 3 months, v tight on time considering I even had the place rejoisted and the walls stripped to rock. By the end, and I had my tickets booked, I was working like a dog, painting ‘n’ hours a day. Everything I owned was filthy, plaster and paint ridden and quite disgustingly smelly, no washing machine, no furniture, just me camped out there. I put all these filthy clothes in a garbage sack, hermetically sealed and they took up a good 50% of the suitcase.
I went out via Brum, evidently they were looking for some major drug dealer, a woman over 50, all those who qualified were being given the ‘n’th degree and a full luggage search. I got this paki bitch who delighted in trying to give me the snots. She fell upon the garbage bag like a truffle hound, opened it and recoiled from the wave of effluvia that hit her of 130 year old dirt.
Made noises about being disgusting to which I said ever so sweetly-
” Well, you of all people should be used to such” And smiled.
(Have you ever SMELT the paki quarter in Brum?)
One could hear the grinding of the teeth from 6’ away. Not a damned thing she could do but let me go.
Somehow she didn’t want to look any further into the case, I could have had a couple of million widgets in there and they would have been waved away.
Many thanks for the comments! 🙂