Things I hate about flying

Last year, I was traveling quite a lot, way too much for a normal family life. My resolution for 2012 should be to travel less.

When I updated my trip recording yesterday, I made a quick count. In 2011, I went on 19 business trips, to a variety of interesting places:

• Milan, Italy.
• Doha, Qatar.
• San Antonio, Texas.
• Moscow, Russia (7 times).
• Murmansk, Russia (4 times).
• Domestic, northbound (2 times).
• Domestic, southbound (4 times).

Fortunately, we use video conferencing quite extensively. We hardly do domestic travel anymore.

There are a few things I really dislike about flying. This is my top 3 hate list:

1. Sitting in a center seat: A long flight squeezed between two fat guys, and fighting for the arm rest is a nightmare. I want a window seat.
2. When the guy in the seat in front of me leans his seat backward and steals half of that small space I have to read and write and work. The seats should be fixed in the upright position.
3. Airport security is such a hazzle; taking off clothes and shoes, emptying pockets, taking lap top out of the bag, long lines.

I shouldn’t complain too much. I know I’m lucky and privileged, traveling to (some) nice places, and even getting paid for it.

Flying is not all bad. There are things I like about it too:

1. Sitting by the window looking down on interesting places as we pass by.
2. Getting some undisturbed time to read and write.
3. The comfort in business class. I don’t fly business class very often, only on flights taking 6 hours or more. Most of the time I fly Economy Extra, to be able to re-book flights as needed.

My ambition for 2012 is maximum 10 trips. That’s acceptable.

Anyway, next week I go again; booked my tickets today.

(I took the picture above last fall, on-board an Aeroflot plane, over the western part of Russia. The clouds make up an interesting pattern of almost parallel lines. I'm not sure what's causing this, but it was a nice view.)

Down by the seaside

It was the last week of the summer vacation, and we went to the coast down south. Actually, it's not very far south, just an hour driving south of Winterland.

Blackberries are growing wild by the roads, very nice to eat right off the bush. Blackberries don't grow in Winterland.

(I might use this as a definition; Winterland is the land north of the northermost blackberry bush.)

We had some nice and lazy days by the sea, swimming, jumping from cliffs (the kids, not me), fishing, or just racing around on the fjord in a small boat, just for fun.

Little boy caught a grasshopper and put it in a jar. He named it Roy and tried to teach it tricks. It turned out that Roy wasn't very willing to learn.

I've read some good books, of course. First, I read my every-summer-on-the-beach book; The Gambler by Dostoyevsky. It's about the 10th time I read it. Second, I read Boomerang by Tatiana de Rosnay. Good book, recommended.

Then I found this old book in a shelf; The Barble Bush by Charles Mergendahl. I had never heard of it before, but the text on the back cover made me curious; "2.5 million copies sold" (not necessarily a good sign), "mercy killing, adultry, seduction, insanity ... sordid ingredients". And the book wasn't bad, I think.

From time to time, I got tired of reading; I wanted to write. So, I got a notebook, and started to write a new novel. The notebook has pages labeled from A to Z (plus a couple of strange letters we're using here). Just for fun, I started a new chapter for every new heading-letter, and each chapter beginning with the same letter. I'm writing longhand, so I have to rewrite (and edit) everything later.

My new (so-called) novel is a story about two old men escaping from the nursery home, and their adventures as they travel northward. It's is kind of a road movie, except that it's a novel, and that they travel by train and ship rather than car. On their way, they summarize their different, but equally miserable lives and hope that their last journey will bring something exciting. I have no plot and no plan; we'll see where it ends.

Led Zeppelin? Yes, that's right. I borrowed the title of this post from a Led Zeppelin song on the Physical Graffiti album.

(I took the picture above on a nice and sunny day at the beach. The area along the coast is of great geological interest. The rocks were created by volcanic erruptions some 150 million years ago, and later carved and shaped by glaciers. It's nature's own art.)

134-hour live broadcast

Right now there is a cool TV project going on here, real reality TV.

One of the coastal express ships has been equipped with lots of TV cameras, and the entire voyage from the first port in the south to the last port in the north is broadcast live on TV. It's probably the longest continuous live broadcast. It's on webcast as well, click here here if you wanna see it.

The broadcast started yesterday and lasts for 134 hours, almost six days. I watched it for a while yesterday, fun to watch in small portions, but somewhat tedious after a while.

The coastal express is steaming along our coastline every day, all year, and has been doing so for almost 120 years. A full round trip from south to north and back to the start takes 11 days. All the 34 ports are served on a regular schedule, once a day. At any time there are 11 ships in operation.

The coastal express is hardly an express any more. However, in the old days, before commercial air lines, it was the most efficient (and only) way to travel along our long coastline. Now the coastal express is operating more like a cruise line, with lots of tourists. But you can, of course, still buy port-to-port tickets, and use it as public transport.

I have traveled with the coastal express a few times, between small towns up north, when the air lines have been on strike (they have powerful unions), and on national holidays, when Six Flags Airlines have taken a day off.

Tomorrow morning the TV-ship is coming to our town. Little boy wants to go down and watch and waive to the cameras, so we plan to bike down to the port tomorrow morning >:)

(I took the picture above in May 2008, when we lived up north. It's the coastal express steaming to port. This was the view I had through the kitchen window every morning at 7:30 am, while eating breakfast, before going to work. I must admit that I miss it.)

City of two teams

I’m visiting this city where I always get lost, the capital of Lombardia, Milano (in Italian), Milan (in English), Mailand (in German).

On my way south, I had a connection at the fucking Frankfurt Airport. Many times I've promised myself to never go there again. But it's one of the major connection points in Europe, and hard to avoid. We came in late, due to capacity problems in Frankfurt, as usual. I ran like Hell to get from Terminal B to Terminal A, down 4 stairs, across a long transport band, and up 4 stairs on the other side. I made it just in time.

The plane to Milano was packed. Lots of Italians of course. Japanese tourists with face masks covering mouth and nose; afraid of being poisoned in Europe? A young girl with bright-blue hair; cute. An orthodox Jew with iPod; I wonder what kind of music he was listening to. I leaned back in my seat with a good read, On Writing by Stephen King.

Milano is completely flat, located on the plains of River Po. There’s no fjord or hill, unlike my hometown, no mountains in the west, unlike Denver. It's just flat, and damn hard to keep track of directions, in particular when the sun is hidden behind the clouds. Thanks to the metro system, I can usually find my way back to the hotel.

This is a city of two teams. If you know anyhing about European football (soccer), you know what that means. Some well known examples are Manchester (City and United), Liverpool (Everton and Liverpool FC), Glasgow (Rangers and Celtic), Madrid (Atletico and Real), and Milano (Inter and AC Milan).

Arriving at the Linate Airport, I passed the aggressive pirate-taxi drivers hanging around the exit, with "special prize for you", and walked over to the line with the reliable White Cabs. When you jump into a taxi, there is never any doubt which team the driver supports, the car always decorated in the colors of his team, black and red (AC Milan) or black and blue (Inter).

I’m here just for a two days, on a business trip. Unfortunately, there is no time to watch AC Milan on San Siro Stadium, nor a Verdi performance on La Scala. I hope I’ll get a tour of downtown Milano, to see the magnificent Duomo, the huge cathedral from the 15th century.

Tonight, I'm going out to get some good Italian food and a beer >:)

(I took the picture above from the roof of the Duomo a couple of years ago. It's a crap picture, taken with my cell-phone camera.)

Wikileaks and KKK

I’m sitting in the airport, waiting for my plane back home. This is my 11th day travelling in three weeks. I’m tired of it.

I just read the latest news about the Wikileaks case.

According to the newspaper, the leaks are embarrassing for the American government, because of the way they have described leaders of other countries. Putin is the alpha-dog (which probably just flattered him), Berlusconi is the corrupt criminal (it’s true anyway). For the American government, this is easy to get away with. It was internal communication, not intended for publication. As easy as that. Every organisation in the world is doing the same, internal mails and memos, analyses of partners and competitors, confidential reports to the boss. For your eyes only. But all organizations have unfaith employees.

What is serious for the American government is that the leaks reveal their plans and strategies, in Iraq and Afghanistan, and in the world economy. The Wikileaks founder is arrested, on a rape charge. It smells like conspiracy. Get something on him, get him jailed, get rid of him. The American and European governments are pissed of course. Openness is good, but only when they can control the information that is leaked.

According to the newspaper, PayPal has blocked all money transfers to Wikileaks. But donations to the Ku Klux Klan are accepted. It’s a crazy world.

The good news: Ive written 1000 words for my so-called novel today, some really hot stuff. I hope it’s not on Wikileaks tomorrow >:D

Hungry as Hell

You won't imagine what happened yesterday!

I was out traveling again, just a day trip to the south. I was up at 5:30 am to get on the morning plane, and came back home at 7 pm, tired and hungry as Hell. I hadn't eaten since noon.

But my old lady refused me to eat. She was preparing for a gathering with her friends, and had all kinds of obscure dishes spread all over the kitchen. She said I would just mess up everything if a made a couple of sandwiches. Crazy isn't it?

I just had to be patient, but it paid off in the end, when the salmon rolls were served ... and finally, the oyster >:)

Junk food and aged wine

The last couple of weeks we have been on vacation. A few days in Venice, then cruising around in the Adriatic Sea, visiting many interesting places, and eating lots of good food (and drinks? No, very little, I don't drink alcohol when I'm with the kids).

As usual, the Germans were walking around the pool with big beer-bellies and small Speedo pants; very ugly. As usual, the Italian girls had tiny bikinis; very nice! (where the Hell is the moral here?) And whenever I tried to take a picture of the kids or a nice scenery, some unknown jerk bustled in front of my camera in the moment I was pushing the button.

The best about vacation is having plenty of time to relax in the sun and read books. I started with some brain-junk-food; "The Darkest Room", a crime novel by Johan Theorin. It's one of these books that makes me shout: "What the Hell, I could have written better than this shit myself".

Then came the aged wine (when it comes to drinks I actually prefer beer, but never mind); The Gambler by Dostoyevsky, this fabulous little book that I read on the beach every summer. I looked around, feeling pity for all the people sitting there with their junk-literature; Robert Ludlum, Stephen King, Tom Clancy, Barbara Cartland, Stephenie Meyer ... and so on. Burgers and fries are OK now and then, but not every day.

And then, I discovered this little pearl of a book (actually I found it in my wife's suitcase): "The Elegance of the Hedgehog" by Muriel Barbery. It's an intelligent and funny book about a concierge who loves the works of Tolstoy, and a super-smart 12-year-old girl who has decided to commit suicide on her 13th birthday ... well, I won't say more. Just read it!

Beethoven at the Polar Circle

Yesterday, I was driving from the north to the south of Winterland, together with my old lady. We were arguing about what to play on the stereo. She hates black metal, and I don't like mainstream pop and rock. We compromized on classics, which both of us like.

We started out with Vivaldi; Concert for Two Trumpets and Strings, and then The Four Seasons. My favorite is Winter, as you can probably guess. Then we played Tchaikovsky. When we crossed the Polar Circle after 6 hours, including one hour on the ferry across a fjord, we were on Beethoven; Fidelio, his only opera.

At the Polar Circle there's a souvenir shop, of course, and a monument. I took a picture from the back side of the monument; I thought the snow and mountains were a better background than the souvenir shop full of crap.

There's a scenic road along the coast, but it takes too much time. So we took the fast and boring route, through endless forests and mountains. After 15 hours driving, we were home ... damn tired of Vivaldi and Beethoven.

Today, I'm back on black metal >:)

Epilogue

When we came to port, I went straight to the airport. I was able to catch the last plane out of the northernmost town in the world. A 45-minutes flight with Six Flags Airlines got me to the town known as the Paris of the North, due to its abundance of bars and pubs. It's the largest town north of the polar circle, and the gateway to the Arctic.

I checked into my hotel and went to a bar next door, where I met a lot of friends who where there for a geo-science conference. We had a couple of beers before I went to bed around 3 am.

From my hotel room I had a nice view to the Cathedral of the Arctic Sea.

Next morning I got on a plane to the south and made it home for the weekend, good to get home to my family and my drum kit. It's almost like summer today, and we have mowed the lawn, for the first time this year.

Next week there is a Kizz concert in town. You know, that band from the 70's with face paint and crazy outfit. It was one my favorite bands when I was a kid. Later I have realized that musically, it's a less than average band, but anyway, it will be cool to see them live >:)

Going home

I’m on the way back home. Around noon today, I was transferred from the seismic vessel to the chase boat by the FRC, an acronym for "Fast Rescue Craft".

In the picture above, the seismic vessel is in the background, and
the FRC is that orange little boat in the front. It’s a fast motorboat, about 20 feet long. It’s the rescue boat in case someone falls over board, but is used for various other purposes too.

The chase boat is supporting the seismic vessel, transporting food and fuel supply from port, and clearing the sail lines ahead for fishing equipment. The chase boat is only 48m (160 feet) long, and is rolling like crazy in the waves. Fortunately the sea is calm today.

The transit to port takes about eleven hours, long and boring, and no internet connection. I spend the time reading, writing and sleeping. Sleeping in a boat rolling on the waves is very nice, actually. We will arrive in the northernmost town in the world late tonight. Tomorrow morning I will try to get on the first plane back home.

The seismic data acquisition will continue for another two or three months before we’re finished. I will follow up the remaining part of it from the office. Then we will work on the processing and interpretation of the data for more than a year … and in 2012, I hope, we have identified the best spot to drill to find oil >:)

Traveling light

I was flying to the south of Winterland for a meeting today. I had no check-in baggage, and only a pen as carry-on.

Going back home, I had twice as much baggage; my pen and a sheet of paper with some useless notes.

It's OK. I can live with that. And the weather was nice >:)))

7am flight

I'm a man of the night; love to stay up late, hate to get up early. Tomorrow morning I have to take the 7am flight to the South of Winterland. Getting up at 5:30, meeting all the miserable faces at the airport, people who wanted to stay in bed a couple of hours more, just like me. Life is hard.