A few mates asked me to send them the odd email as I've done from other trips. And a few people here asked me to post them if I did them. I started doing these emails to send my dad who married a misanthrope and didn't get to go anywhere. When he came down with pneumonia, I told myself that when he got better I would take him to Rome because I knew he would love it. He didn't get better.
It happened again. Lisa's packing. Her suitcase sat on the floor of the bedroom for months while she tossed into it stuff for the trip. As I watched it happen, I wondered whether she was planning a bigger trip than the rest of us. Or whether she was moving out. I saw a few packing lists come and go, too. When one list was all ticked off, she made another list. And when her bag was full, she got a bigger bag. Then that predictable self doubt crept in where she forgot exactly what was in the bag because of the superseded lists and had to dive into the case every now and then to make sure things she thought should be there actually were there. I imagined us being stopped at the airport in Rome and asked for paperwork to support the clothing export business she was clearly running. Or being quizzed on why it appeared we were immigrating without the right paperwork.
But when it came time to head to the airport at 4am the other day, her bag was strangely light. The kid's bags were even lighter - it turned out one of them only had 9 kilos. Our total at the airport was 69 kilos for the four of us. I kept waiting for someone to walk up behind me and say, 'Hey, you forgot these bags.' The check-in chick wasn't going to comment on how little our bags weighed so I felt I had to. She agreed when prompted that we had done well given our total available weight was 120 kilos. That's 51 unused kilos - an extra small person. I asked whether there was some sort of prize we might have won. Of course, I have a feeling by the time we head home in a month we might be closer to that 120 kilo limit and I won't be so smug.
It was my first time on an A380. Nice, but it felt more like an auditorium than a plane. There were rows and rows of people. And we were encouraged to keep the blinds down to stop light interfering with people's seat back screens. I've never watched so much telly. I think I got my whole year's ration on that first 15 hour flight - 30 Rock, Modern Family, Luther, Madmen. I can't imagine doing that flight like we used to in the old days when there were dodgy projectors showing a single film on a couple of screens hanging from the ceiling. Tell kids today that was what planes were like and they won't believe you. Remember how there was always at least one projector that didn't work? And that from half the seats you had the choice of watching the movie and buggering your neck, or sitting in the dark and listening to one of only 10 audio stations - all of them on a short rotation?
We had a quick changeover in Dubai - an airport I now know where a quick changeover isn't ideal. There was a long walk, followed by a short train trip, followed by a longer walk (that turned into a bit of a panicked family jog toward the end). The second flight was shorter - just six hours. And it was on a plane that was more like a plane, with plane food more like plane food.
We booked an apartment in Rome through Airbnb - google it. What a fantastic find. It's in Trastevere. Woody Allen set a movie here last year. You know how places always look better in movies than in real life? This one looks even better in real life - tiny cobbled lane ways full of bars and restaurants. There are more lane way bars in half a dozen streets here than there would be in the whole of Melbourne. And they have that effortless Italian style. The closest area we have to this one in Sydney might be the back streets of Potts Point, but it's really not all that close. Boy, it's noisy at night, though. And it's winter now - the quiet season. Things ramp up from around 10pm and there are still people wandering around at 3am. We are one lane back from the really busy ones, but there are half a dozen bars and restaurants within 40 meters of our place and the sound travels - that's all those stone walls and cobbled streets. On our second night, there were three guys and a girl just below our window at 3am having a chat. They weren't being especially loud, but loud enough. We could hear - but not understand - every word. I finally bit the bullet and opened the window (we're on the first floor) and leaned out to make the observation that they were being a tad loud. They all apologised and a couple of minutes later headed off. As I went back to bed, I thought to myself if this really was the back streets of Potts Point and they were Aussie youngsters, they would have tossed a bottle at the window, then pissed on the door, maybe vomited, too. And probably had a fight with eachother before keying a couple of cars.
It happened again. Lisa's packing. Her suitcase sat on the floor of the bedroom for months while she tossed into it stuff for the trip. As I watched it happen, I wondered whether she was planning a bigger trip than the rest of us. Or whether she was moving out. I saw a few packing lists come and go, too. When one list was all ticked off, she made another list. And when her bag was full, she got a bigger bag. Then that predictable self doubt crept in where she forgot exactly what was in the bag because of the superseded lists and had to dive into the case every now and then to make sure things she thought should be there actually were there. I imagined us being stopped at the airport in Rome and asked for paperwork to support the clothing export business she was clearly running. Or being quizzed on why it appeared we were immigrating without the right paperwork.
But when it came time to head to the airport at 4am the other day, her bag was strangely light. The kid's bags were even lighter - it turned out one of them only had 9 kilos. Our total at the airport was 69 kilos for the four of us. I kept waiting for someone to walk up behind me and say, 'Hey, you forgot these bags.' The check-in chick wasn't going to comment on how little our bags weighed so I felt I had to. She agreed when prompted that we had done well given our total available weight was 120 kilos. That's 51 unused kilos - an extra small person. I asked whether there was some sort of prize we might have won. Of course, I have a feeling by the time we head home in a month we might be closer to that 120 kilo limit and I won't be so smug.
It was my first time on an A380. Nice, but it felt more like an auditorium than a plane. There were rows and rows of people. And we were encouraged to keep the blinds down to stop light interfering with people's seat back screens. I've never watched so much telly. I think I got my whole year's ration on that first 15 hour flight - 30 Rock, Modern Family, Luther, Madmen. I can't imagine doing that flight like we used to in the old days when there were dodgy projectors showing a single film on a couple of screens hanging from the ceiling. Tell kids today that was what planes were like and they won't believe you. Remember how there was always at least one projector that didn't work? And that from half the seats you had the choice of watching the movie and buggering your neck, or sitting in the dark and listening to one of only 10 audio stations - all of them on a short rotation?
We had a quick changeover in Dubai - an airport I now know where a quick changeover isn't ideal. There was a long walk, followed by a short train trip, followed by a longer walk (that turned into a bit of a panicked family jog toward the end). The second flight was shorter - just six hours. And it was on a plane that was more like a plane, with plane food more like plane food.
We booked an apartment in Rome through Airbnb - google it. What a fantastic find. It's in Trastevere. Woody Allen set a movie here last year. You know how places always look better in movies than in real life? This one looks even better in real life - tiny cobbled lane ways full of bars and restaurants. There are more lane way bars in half a dozen streets here than there would be in the whole of Melbourne. And they have that effortless Italian style. The closest area we have to this one in Sydney might be the back streets of Potts Point, but it's really not all that close. Boy, it's noisy at night, though. And it's winter now - the quiet season. Things ramp up from around 10pm and there are still people wandering around at 3am. We are one lane back from the really busy ones, but there are half a dozen bars and restaurants within 40 meters of our place and the sound travels - that's all those stone walls and cobbled streets. On our second night, there were three guys and a girl just below our window at 3am having a chat. They weren't being especially loud, but loud enough. We could hear - but not understand - every word. I finally bit the bullet and opened the window (we're on the first floor) and leaned out to make the observation that they were being a tad loud. They all apologised and a couple of minutes later headed off. As I went back to bed, I thought to myself if this really was the back streets of Potts Point and they were Aussie youngsters, they would have tossed a bottle at the window, then pissed on the door, maybe vomited, too. And probably had a fight with eachother before keying a couple of cars.
