Days 1-3, 13-15 June 2014 - Sydney/Dubai/Amsterdam - 14 hrs 30 mins (but it seemed longer...) just to get to Dubai! Aside from the auspicious nature of the date, Friday the 13th was a funny old day - I was certainly not happy about leaving James (to the point of chaining myself to something and simply not leaving). He took me out for a posh lunch at DJ's and then we shared a final (very teary on my part) hug and I was on the shuttle to the airport - thankfully not joined by any other travellers for the trip. We had both hoped our Fairy God Mother of Upgrades would wave her magic wand - but it was not to be and my seat in economy was confirmed. Initially it looked like I'd been blessed with 3 seats to myself (perhaps looking so miserable at check-in had worked after all), but it wasn't to be either. An extremely weird guy from the middle seat of the 3 in front of me was telling the woman next to him to shift her arm off the armrest as he didn't like to be touched... then the freak took my third seat. Of course I curled up in the two seats I had left and took great delight in poking him with my toes all night in the hope he'd return to his allocated seat. Apparently I was the lesser of two evils however and he stayed put. Should have stretched out and put my feet in his lap - that probably would have done the trick. As economy goes it wasn't too bad - reasonable leg room, hot towels, good movies (3 Days to Kill / Last Vegas). Didn't bother with dinner because I'd enjoyed The Qantas Lounge in Sydney to it's fullest extent. Quite possibly the first time I've ever stuck the "Do Not Disturb" sign to my seat on a plane. Eventually landed into a Dubai dawn. Too addled to take a photo, I just marvelled at the full moon over the desert with all the hazy cookie-cutter mansions in gated communities. Mosques stood in every block and the roads were phenomenal. I was through security (again) and ensconced in a shower room at Emirates Business Lounge before I could say "What day is it? What time is it? Where am I?" then, freshly dressed and approaching human I sat down to cappuccino and chocolate croissants (and fresh berries and cereal and scrambled eggs and hash browns and orange juice). It was early - but late. 6 am Dubai time / 12 noon Saturday in Sydney. Forced myself to have a glass of Moet et Chandon just on general principle. All too soon it was back onto another A380 where I certainly didn't need another breakfast and endeavoured to watch a box set of Sherlock Holmes TV shows - managed to nod-off periodically and had to keep rewinding. After the marathon to Dubai, 6 hrs 30 mins to Amsterdam seemed (almost) like nothing. It was the best part of an hour waiting for my bag that took it out of me! Finally I was reunited with my bag and was on a shuttle headed for the centre of town. The run from the airport was flat. I knew it was going to be - and the views of the country side from the air had shown all the patchworked green fields and canals - very much big-sky country. Sadly no windmills. Saturday traffic, hordes of pedestrians celebrating the Dutch win over Spain (5-1) in the World Cup and Amsterdam's ubiquitous cyclists meant the shuttle took almost an hour. In Sydney right now they're cracking down on pedestrians jay-walking, texting when they're crossing the road etc. That's nothing - saw an apparently immortal cyclist cruising down a street without holding the handle bars. Which would have been fine if she'd been looking up and at traffic. Pretty hard to do when you're looking down and texting whilst listening to music on headphones.... They do seem immortal actually - not one splat. I was eventually decanted and left in front of the door of a traditionally tall and slender Amsterdam building - in between Dam Square and Anne Frank's House. No lift they said. Steep, narrow stairs they said. Which would seem means something entirely more extreme when said in a Dutch context. I almost had altitude sickness by the first floor. Thankfully the owner helped with my bag. He even suggested I travel lighter next time but retracted his comment gracefully when I said that 20kg was for the next six months at least! Now "they" say the best thing to fight jet lag is to stay up until a normal going to bed time in your new time zone. We're not in the habit of giving what "they" say any credence as it happens... and after being awake for essentially 43 hours it was shower, PJs and bed even though it was only 5 pm in Amsterdam - and that was me - dead to the world until 11 pm. Turns out drunks, trams, church bells and clippety-cloppety horse carriages just aren't that noisy after all. Did you know... they really mean long when they talk about long summer days - there was still a hint of daylight until it was finally dark at 11.30 pm on Saturday. Wow. Managed to sleep again until 4.30 am when dawn struck and I've been enjoying seeing the sky lightening, listening to the birds (which due to the height of my room are actually twittering in flight as they pass by) and contemplating imminent starvation. In due course I plan on venturing out to hunt breakfast and take in my surrounds. Planning to join a free walking tour at 11 am and possibly a tour of the red-light district tonight. That should see me some way to joining the current time zone!
(Pictured is Rex - My guard pooch - sitting on the peak of the building and visible from my little skylight. Incredible - even when I'm not housesitting, I have an animal around!)