Jordaan

Day One and Disaster (almost) Strikes

Anyone who has experienced travel to the other side of the planet, would have to admit that there is no way that the flight over could be called pleasant. No one enjoys being squashed inside a metal sarcophagus with 300 or 400 others for around 24 hours. No one could enjoy the sensation of sitting in a seat for so long, while you can gradually feel your extremities losing all circulation. But that’s exactly what 10 of us have just done.

The trip actually started early on Friday morning. For Maggie and me, the day began with a 5.30 am alarm. Not that we had really slept much that night. It is hard to venture to the Land of Nod when there are just so many active thoughts rushing through your consciousness.

After hours of fruitless tossing and turning, I was actually glad when the alarm went, and we were able to start the long journey to Europe. We had organised for an airport shuttle to collect us and four others at 9 am. You can imagine my surprise when I happened to glance out the front window at 8 am, to see that the shuttle was already waiting. As I remember it, I didn’t even have my pants on!

I messaged the driver, in case there had been a mixup with the pickup time. He informed me that he had just finished another job, and that he was happy to wait. First crisis averted.

An hour later we had locked the front door and loaded our bags into the van. We were on our way at last. About fifteen minutes later we were joined by Gordon and Sue, and Greg and Andrea. We shared some light hearted chatter as we made our way to the airport. Somewhat surprisingly, the traffic flowed so smoothly that we reached Tullamarine about 10.10 am. At that rate we would be in Amsterdam before we knew it.

The old days of interacting with a real human being at check in time are long since gone. Now everything is processed by a robot, including checkin, bag drop and immigration clearance. I used to enjoy a bit of small talk with the airline staff, but it is hard to chat to a faceless robot.

The scheduled take off time for the first leg of our flight was 2.25 pm. We were all hoping for a punctual start, since we knew that our transit time in Hong Kong was going to be very tight. When boarding time started behind schedule, I was ultra keen not to keep the plane waiting for us. This almost turned out to be a truly disastrous move.

The line of passengers moved relatively quickly, and Maggie and I dropped into our allocated seats. “Well that’s the first step done”, I explained to Maggie. In fact it was nowhere near done. Just as we were trying to squeeze ourselves into our seats, Gordon walked down the aisle and dropped a familiar looking item on my lap. Now where had I seen that thing before ? Hang on, it looked a lot like my wallet. It WAS my wallet, filled with cash, credit cards, driving license and other personal birthrights.

Apparently in my haste I had dropped it under the seat in the departure lounge. If an honest child had not noticed it and reported it to Gordon, my trip would really have gotten off to a terrible start. For a while we were both quite shaken as we contemplated the possible consequences. Maybe the lesson is to always act in a careful and controlled manner, and always check that your personal items are with you. Acting in haste is never a great idea. But then again, when do I ever take my own advice ?

With the wallet safely back in my possession, I thought that nothing else could go wrong. I was a little concerned when the flight finally took off about 30 minutes late. I was even more concerned when the pilot decided to take the long way to Hong Kong (making a couple of laps around Sydney), and thereby adding another 30 minutes or so to the flight time.

The, already tight, transit time of 60 minutes, had now shrunk almost to zero. We finally touched down at Hong Kong at about the same time our connecting flight to Amsterdam was due to take off. In the immortal words of Corporal Jones, I felt myself saying “Don’t panic, don’t panic”, but at the same time picturing that this would not have a good outcome.

We were rushed off the plane and ushered to a waiting Cathay Pacific rep. She then instructed us to follow her to the next flight. Well we tried to do that, but she immediately broke into a fast sprint that would have done Cathy Freeman proud. We lumbered along behind, vainly trying to keep her retreating hind quarters in sight. Didn’t she realise that we are not teenagers? We are no longer even middle aged. We are fully fledged “old farts” now, and this seemed to be an ill conceived procedure. Even if we managed to reach the flight, I was very doubtful that our luggage would be able to run as fast as us.

Somehow we defied the laws of Physics and common sense, and avoided dual heart attacks, as we finally flopped into the second plane, just as the doors were closing. It really had been a close call. Soon we were back in the air, wondering just where our bags would be heading. Would they be heading off somewhere else on their own independent adventure ?

The second leg of the journey was a thirteen-hour marathon, weaving up and down around numerous countries we had never heard of. I was more than a little concerned when the on-screen tracker showed us heading straight for Crimea, however we veered south at the last minute, to skirt over Turkey instead.

Our landing at Amsterdam took place at around 6 am, just as the sun was appearing over the eastern horizon. We quickly cleared immigration and staggered forlornly to the Baggage Collection Area. We felt that it would take a miracle for our luggage to appear, however we were shown that miracles still do occur. All our bags somehow miraculously made the transit safely. We finally thought that our long day had reached a most satisfactory conclusion. The only thing left was the short shuttle transfer to our hotel. Easy Peasey, or so we thought.

David had been entrusted with this easy job, and he assured us that "everything was arranged". But where was the driver? We walked up and down the airport, looking for a man with a sign. There wasn’t one. After about 45 minutes of fruitless searching, we were finally able to contact the company. They had obviously forgotten us. They arranged for another van and driver to collect us. It was a bit of extra stress that we could have done without.

We arrived at the wonderful Wiechmann Hotel far too early to get access to our rooms, so we dropped our luggage and went for a walk (ie stagger) to the beautiful Vondelpark. It was the perfect location to relax, have a coffee and indulge in some people watching. This is the preferred place for Amsterdam folks to walk, jog, walk their dog or enjoy a coffee.

It did not take long for the heat and humidity to take its toll. We were all completely exhausted, so much so that it took all our strength to make it back to our hotel to finally get to our rooms. According to my calculations, it had been around 50 hours since any of us had been in a bed, and we were not in a pleasant state.

Along the way I happened to see a terrifying sight. We were approached by a group of mentally deranged people, all with bloodshot eyes, idiotic blank stares and staggering gaits. Surely the world had not been over-run by a zombie apocalypse since we left Australia? Unfortunately, it turned out to be our own reflections I was seeing in a shop window.

In spite of the mishaps, we were all now safely in Amsterdam, our luggage was still with us, and another wonderful adventure is about to begin.

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