April 2001 Part 4. I take on Our Sharon, a Qantas cabin crew of many years and reach a compromise worthy of the UN.

We now see so many repeat customers, mostly nice and a few less than. If I were a Mormon, then I would have a chance of hitting a REAL fortune, as we have a Mormon family gang with us again, from Seattle too, of all places.

One of the daughters has dumped her husband (who came last time and I thought he was a weed) and is now obviously in the market for another and I get on like a house on fire with mother, who has all the lolly (00000dles of it), so have already suggested that I come over to the other side and become a client and told them I would know how to get them upgraded into suites everywhere, which they could easily afford anyway, but of course don’t …. I meantersay, Mom is presumably footing the bill for the current outing and not getting much in the way of change from $200,000 and they have come back every year for the last 4 …. so do the maths yourselves and u can see what a nice idea it would be to become part of the family ! Ah me, such is life!! Don’t know what my friends in Iran would make of it all – their eyes just cross completely when I tell them how much money these people are spending.

I really don’t understand some of these airlines. Here we are, all 15 of us in the Business Class cabin of a 747 and the bloody crew determines that we have 4 hours flight from Darwin to Singapore and it is 4:30pm and we should eat dinner immediately. Basicaly, they just want to get the meal service done and over with, so they can skive off the rest of the flight. Ha I say to that. I tell the Japanese/0z f/a that No, I wud like to eat later – throws her for a complete loop – do I or don’t I want to eat ? – yes, but not now – not now ? but we are serving now … we start to get into a loop -she gives up – next thing, Big Sharon, a seasoned Sinneysider comes in to the scene – but we are cooking the food now …. so I says, well bugger the hot food, I’ll just have a salad and some cheese later – how about that? Hnmunm – almost seemed something that was going to cause a riot in the galley.

GIVE ME A BREAK – I point out nicely, that with 4 hours and 15 pax and it being only late afternoon, they could do the whole meal service (which on Qantas Biz is not exactly extensive) in one hour flat. We settle on the salad and cheese compromise. Am v pleased to observe that there are 3 other pax who did not eat either – felt like pointing THAT out to KoKo (yup, a female high executioner) and our Sharon, as further proof but felt my point was made.

Changi airport, Singapore continues to amaze me. I meantersay, I was off the plane, did a longish walk to immigration, which was deserted as always, through them, with the offer of a candy too, around the corner to the first bag belt, where the Biz bags had already come up first of course (they wud be AMAZED to hear that this is not ALWAYS the case elsewhere) and through the non-existent customs and straight out to a waiting cool taxi, driven by a man in white gloves and all this within 20 mins of getting off the plane. Here it’s the norm – almost anywhere else it’s called a miracle.

And for those of u who want touches of Ammurrica home, there at the departure gate next morning, they are playing WHEEL OF FORTUNE with Vanna and all -Some of you would never have boarded the flight ….

Now later, in flight from Singapore to Kota Kinabula on the Malaysian end of Borneo. And wud you bloody believe, on a Malaysian 737, with all of 20 pax and leaving at 1005 for a 2:25 mins flight, they have done LUNCH immediately after take off – I may have to go down to the back galley and have a few gentle words of wisdom here, as the crew is all young and may benefit from my road warrior status. And why would Malaysian Airlines, with all its sources of cheap labor, have its sick bags made in Switzerland ?? Inquiring minds want to know (or who got some huge kickback for the contract, cos it sure is fishy ….) Thomas, being Swiss, do you have an insight?

Had a very nice night, thank you chez Raffles. Richard Yap, me mate there, was waiting and I was whisked off to my suite without having to stop for a second. It’s kinda frightening when the lady butler was standing outside the door to the suite, waiting for me and my retinue and she had to show me how to insert the key into the lock and turn it – nothing unusual about that -insert key and turn – they just wanted to make sure I understood ! Oh dear oh lor, I must be looking even worse than I thought. I then had to have a detailed, inch by inch explanation of exactly what worked what inside the room, most of which I cudda probably worked out for myself. They did presume I could turn the taps on and off and flush the loo, but otherwise nothing went unexplained. Best thing was the arrival a few mins later of a tray with two nice flutes of champagne and the caviar from Iran that I had left with Richard while I went to Oz (see above ref Oz health regs – they wudda swiped it and incinerated it too, which would have caused many tears before bedtime!). So we had a maxi caviar feast as it had to be eaten and I was determined that it WOULD be eaten and none left to waste.

Consequently, did not need dinner and fell into bed at 2130 and finally slept til the alarm went off at 0645. No such thing as a lie in is permitted anywhere on my sked,and in fact 0645 almost qualifies as one!

Yet more to come from the top of Malaysia…what do you know about orang outangs?

Going Around the World the other way September 2001. Part 9. I manage to escape from Uzbekistan.

Was put into a small hotel for the day (with a 1000% more in the way of amenities and comfort than the previous night) and I watched telly and finally saw some of the ghastly footage that you have been seeing for a week now. Time doesn’t help there and I am now only just beginning to realise the enormity of it all.

Went to the Biz Center and answered more emails from people around the world asking after me – was v touched how many there were. Everywhere we have been, people have been so kind – little old crones in towns asking if we were American and coming over and showing such obvious sympathy – it’s been very touching and comforting.

And so back to the airport – WHICH OF COURSE IN UNDER RECONSTRUCTION – took three different doors to find the way in and then having completed the security checks and the customs checks (when they repossessed 2 of the 3 customs forms I have completed in the last few days) and then got to the check in counter and discovered that as I was Biz Class, I was in the WRONG PLACE – this fact had escaped the eyes of the several officials who have scrutinised my ticket as if it was some deadly secret weapon. So I had to go back through the system (not easily achieved believe me) and then then for chrissakes, up a long flight of collapsing stairs, with no one to help, so their so called ‘premium pax’ arrive in a state of lather and general frustration … grrr. Finally manage to get checked in by a tarty blonde who wud win the “Miss Uzbekistan I Don’t Care a Damn if you Live or Die Award”.

Then Immigration, which I knew cud be a potential problem. I had come into the country on the Group Visa, basically a huge list of all our pp numbers etc etc and was now breaking free and going out as an individual – COUNTRIES DON’T LIKE THIS and the little man was one of those. I had all the right bits of paper and a stamped copy of the group visa to prove I was a good lad, but of course had nothing in my pp, not even a stamp to show how I came in (and I had this cold feeling that l had absolutely no idea where this place had been, as it was all in the middle of the night, on a remote railway line and our passports were not stamped at all) As far as he was concerned, I had parachuted in from outta space. Uzbek Airlines girl with good English is now invoked and explains my case and the guy is shaking his head and saying Niet and I am trying to work out how I will adjust to life living in a currently under reconstruction Tashkent airport – I meantersay, I’ll have to open a P 0 Box and everything as how am I to receive Red Cross Parcels and Christmas Cards ???? He goes off to confer with higher ups and I am left to ponder my fate. Well, there is a God in Taskent, as he was suddenly all smiles and off I went to face Mother Russia … felt just like getting out of prison !!!!

Business Class “Lounge” had several competitors in the ‘let’s smoke as many cigs as we can before we gets on the plane’ competition. Discovered that the bar (everything had to be bought here) was also the duty free shop, so I could buy a whole bottle and then start to consume it right away, so squirreled myself into a corner, with an electrical outlet for these writing purposes and had a good drink. Plane was called to board 45 mins before departure, which was a good thing, as again we went through more security with all yr bits of paper being re-examined, mainly by people who could probably only read the cyrilic alphabet – my thick card bright yellow boarding card had by now lost both its ends and had been stamped by no less than three different authorities, with each of the other two examining the others handiwork, in case I had been adept at stamping it myself. Good thing it was card, as it came in for a lot of abuse. Then off on the bus to the plane – A SURPRISE – not the nice Airbus as advertised in the timetable, but instead the Russian version, a huge monster called an lluyshin 86, which you enter from ground level and find yourself where the hold would be on anyone else – big area for extra hand baggage ahead of you and another flight of stairs to the left and bingo, you come up through the floorboards, just behind the cockpit. Worst thing was that this was an all Economy configuration, so no nice big seats to wallow in for the 4 hours to Moscow. Crew seemed nonplussed by my complaints, as I seemed to be the only foreigner on board and the locals don’t like to make waves or are so used to it that they just shut up, so I incited a bit of my own Russian Revolution and got the guy behind me to bitch too, which he did v nicely (well as far as I can tell, as it was all in Uzbek) – we knew we had a lost cause, but snot fair, is zit ???? Plane was almost full (they had at least protected the first few rows for us who were more equal than others) and I took a walk about in flight to inspect it. The masses, or rather those who were not severely under the vodka, stared at me hard. There was an empty bottle of vodka rolling around at the rear right door. There were no seat numbers overhead but instead they were on the BACK of the relevant seat, with would cause a few thousand hours of delays in the USA

Before take off, I had to instruct the girl on the jumpseat ahead of me that I would require her to fasten her seatbelt – we were on the end of the runway and she was just sitting in a daze. Made things worse when I suggested that she put on the shoulder harness too – it had obviously not been used for some time, as we were rotating off the ground while she fought with it. Jeeeeeeeeez !!!! You just gotta be there to believe it ! There was ferocious looking woman in black who seemed to be in charge – did not smile once, whereas the girls did throw us the occasional bone of a smile. Much make up had been applied by most of them and their nasty light green uniforms were of a tightness that didn’t ortta be allowed. The bar service in Biz has been upgraded so the former choice of Uzbek vodka, Uzbek wine (a liquid in a class of its own, which would make prune juice seem bitter) and Fanta, has now been augmented by a half bottle of Absolut Vodka, which was demolished immediately and some German beer. Such high living indeed. I brought out my bottle of Scotch and asked for some ice and was quite happy thank you. The meal service was HUGE – boy they like their food in Uzbekland – so we did not starve. Dessert was a bit more Gateau Nationale (quasi chocolate variety), some raisins (v local product and good) and toasted pistachios still in their shells. Cudda made a terrible mess on the floor as this is the society that spits everything out and leaves it right where it fell. No movies, no music, no overhead lights, so we had full plane lighting the whole way and to make it even more better, they played Uzbek music too – ah me, SAS on the way back to the States is going to look very boring compared to all this !

So we lands dead on time in MOW and get bused in – bus cannot leave til it has 150% load factor and also everyone wants to get off first at the terminal, knowing that immigration will be slow, they all stand in the door, so it’s a real rugger scrum. No such thing as being polite here. And inside, amazingly enuf, all the booths are open and we are though in a flash. Bags however take 45 mins to appear and we are serenaded by one of our totally pissed out of his eyeballs pax, who was obviously overcome by seeing a bottle of Absolut in flight. No one took any notice of him. My bag is practically the last to arrive and I join the line in the so called Green channel – no such thing as a walk-through here, so you have to be looked at by Madame la Commisar and selected bags put through an x-ray. Sheeda died if she could see us all strolling through controls in Europe.

And there is my new minder, Vladimir waiting for me, who speaks better French than English, so I have to spool up suddenly to la langue francaise.

But that’s enough for now.

Take the rest of the day off – you probably need it.

Trip Around the World 2003. Part 13. Anna has an English lesson and I work out that the life of a submariner is not for me.

Fortunately Vladivostok sounds like Vladivostok in Russian and eventually we are out of the door and shock/horror, we are WALKING to the plane. What a break through… of course there are huge and sometimes deep puddles on the tarmac, which the locals wade through and I walk around and the incredibly old truck taking the bags out rumbles past and I am happy to see my bag perched on the top. It is just about the only one not heavily plastificated.

Vladivostok Air has rolled out another of those crummy TU-154’s and I find that their Business class is just the regular old three seaters at the front but they only use the window and aisle seat, just like those European carriers have been doing for years and making mucho money from it too. We do get a curtain to avoid the envious eyes of the masses. Our flight attendant, Valentina, is tall and in her bright blue uniform with a brilliant red scarf looks good, though she could do with some help from a dermatologist, but she speaks a little English and main thing is she is NICE; that is all that is needed. And she makes sure our seatbelts are on and even sits down and straps herself in … if I hadn’t been sitting down already, Idda fallen down from shock.

Once we have taken the whole runway to get into flight for the 2 hours south, she gives us huge trays full of food .. no nice Beluga caviar and supplies of hot blinis, but the standard cold cuts and red caviar and black bread. My seatmate eats it all out of sequence, muddling sweet and sour with no apparent discomfort. I turn down the proffered beer but he has one and offers to pay, so think that poss he is an upgrade. When he realizes that they are FREE, he has two more – he’s catching on fast.

And so we land in Vladivostok, in the rain and it’s back to the how many can we get into a bus in the rain (which is much more fun as those outside are being drenched and therefore pushing…). I am met by a nice tall young lady with an umbrella and she drives at high speed into VVO (as IATA calls it) and I feign sleep as I’d rather she keep her eyes on the roads, which look like skating rinks. It’s a long way into VVO. When there, I am deposited at the venerable looking Versailles Hotel, with fancy lighting and some awful artwork on the walls, all of which is for sale. The receptionist manages to give me the form to fill in, scans it and a computer screen and give me the key all without stopping talking to her mate on the phone. She is, I think, a Sybil Fawlty in training.

By recent standards, I have a musty big room with a bed and running water and a large Japanese machine for boiling water and possibly I can cook rice in it. It is huge and a view out of the window of a dog having a pee and it is all wonderful. I feel more like taking to my bed, but no such chance as someone is coming at 2pm to take me out and show me the town.

In the lobby, the statuesque Anna is waiting. She is taller than me and absolutely ravishing and speaks totally fluent English. Turns out she is a last year student at the University studying English and Spanish and had just come from an exam in English Grammar. I asked what that was and I wish I had written down the reply, as it didn’t mean a THING to me … all about using reflexive gerunds or something like that. I could not have written one word. She is accompanied by our driver Alexander and I ask if he is known as Sasha (as every Russian Alexander is) and they are amazed that I know such a thing .. well, she has her knowledge of gerunds and I know about Alexander aka Sasha! She is very happy to hear my British accent, as I realize that all the guides in Russia do speak British English, rather than American. The gang I know in St Petersburg are amazingly posh sounding; it always amuses me. As we progressed around, I did manage to add a few words to her vocabulary, like Trophy Wife, Toy Boy, Mutton-dressed-up-as-lamb, Queer as a Clockwork Orange and Bimbo, all with exact definitions and we got on very cheerfully. She was going to try out her new words on her professor and I’m sure she will be in trouble for hanging around with the wrong sort of native speaker – I did warn her but she could not wait!

It has stopped raining and we go see the sights. It’s a BIG place this. All around the harbor and of course is still the biggest Russian naval port of the east and until a few years ago was totally banned to foreigners, as those camera toting tourists would obviously all be spies and NOT Harry and Marlene from Kansas City on their Globus Gateway tour of Highlights of Russia in 17 days, meal plan optional. Now, we are admitted, but I was careful not to look at any submarines, just in case. I DID however then come face to face with one right out of the water and it could be visited. The front end had been cleaned out and made into a museum of subs and the rear part has been left as was, so you have to climb between the bulkheads, which could be difficult for some of our punters and it also gives you the chance to bang your head on various dials and bits of tubing. It came complete with hammocks slung over the torpedoes. I had to leave very fast as it was really getting to me. Wild horses and any amount of vodka would NEVER get me underwater in one of these.

We drive up to the viewpoint and can see how it has all spread out and how pretty it must have been etc etc and Anna does not approve of all the high-rise building that is going on and who can afford it and I ask well who CAN and she says that only Russian New Money (which basically means their homegrown mafia and Mr Bigs). The apartments are bought as fast as they are built. She lives with her parents and brother in 3 rooms. Her father is an engineer … almost everyone you meet in Russia is either married to one, if they are old enough or is the offspring of, if they are younger.

We walk the streets, some of which have been made into pedestrian-only malls, so quite a breakthrough for around here and I ask about the music I can hear. (Have to confess I thought at first it was the boyz with their boomboxes – you can take this boy out of Brooklyn, but you can’t take Brooklyn out of this boy), but it turned out it is all piped in overhead and Anna thought it luvly ….hmmm … I shall now always associate Madonna not crying for Argentina with Vladivostok, which make odd bedmates for sure!

OK a break. Just one last episode and you will have been Around the World in 40 days.