Journey to the Land of Flying Barges

[craven morehead]

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Helsinki and the midnight evening
I had a layover of 23 hours between my arrival from Edinburgh and departure to Bangkok. While this effectively added a whole day to my travel time back to Australia it also gave me a quick look at Finland. And Finland in midsummer.

The photo above shows the airport train at the central Helsinki railway station. The time is about half past ten at night and it is effectively still daylight.

I arrived at 1441 - an hour after the Bangkok flight for that day had departed, so forcing a 23 hour layover until the next flight - and this time made my way to immigration rather than transit. Finally a stamp in my passport for Finland and I could claim country number 32. I was asked my purpose for visiting Finland - transit, I replied - and asked where I was staying. "The Scandic in town", I said, and apparently the bloke knew what this was and I didn't have to pull out my booking confirmation. He stamped my passport and waved me through.

I hung around the baggage carousel for long enough to assure myself that my big yellow bag wasn't coming out and that it was (I hoped) set aside for my next flight.

I'd contemplated finding an airport hotel but discussion here had revealed that the trains into the city centre were cheap and frequent and I'd enjoy myself a lot more in the city.

I like Helsinki airport. There are all sorts of useful facilities, such as a supermarket on the way out (or in). A passenger can buy necessities without having to pay captive market rates or go without. The signs led to the railway station and when I took the escalator down, I gasped.

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The escalators occupy part of an enormous void. What you see in the photo above is only half of it; there's another bank on the right heading down to the platforms below. Three elevators serve passengers who prefer a speedier and less agoraphobic experience.

I took a better photograph on my return journey but dear lord I felt rather like an ant navigating my way through this space.

The ticket machines were easy to use. Four Euro with a tap of my card and I had a paper ticket. I couldn't see a way to buy a return ticket so I assumed - rightly - that the central railway station would have similar machines offering a similar price.

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Everything about Finland impresses. The interior of the train carriages were comfortable, practical, and uncluttered in design. Everything sparkling clean, everything organised, plenty of space.

I've been on some trains in some countries where the beancounters have been through and removed any trace of room. There are seats for the paying customers, access corridors pared down to the minimum, mean little luggage racks etc. etc. These trains have comfortable seats where the passengers don't get in each other's way, if you have a wheelchair or bicycle space is set aside for your needs, overhead luggage racks hold more than a briefcase…

Plenty of announcements in both Finnish and English, everything labelled and mapped and never room for uncertainty.

Scandinavia as a whole is amazingly well ordered and Finland even more so. I love it.

The main railway station is pretty big but easy to navigate. My hotel, the Scandic, was right next door. Pretty much part of the same building, actually.

More gorgeous design. Clean lines, heaps of space and light. Checkin was simple and my room easy to find.

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Easily the best room of my whole trip.

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I unpacked my bag, set all my devices to charging up, and retired for a nap. I had plenty of daylight to look around later on.

I think I stayed very close by this hotel last trip to HEL in 2017. I bunked down for a few days at the Holiday Inn just out Central Station. Will check this place out for next visit in Jan '24 Keep up the good work. I'm sure many will be happy you persisted, maintained the will to live and continue to put in the hard yards this time. A most enjoyable TR, written with your personality, sense of humour and own style all evident. Cheers

 

[craven morehead]

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Brekkie and back
During the night I rose at least once for the usual reason. Outside, pulling back the curtain, even the wee small hours of the morning were nothing darker than dusk.

I was having a lot of trouble dealing with this. Not just the fact that the sun was still hanging around at midnight but that it was quite visibly going the wrong way around the sky. That patch of bright on the horizon was moving from west to east, left to right.

Thank god for Google Maps and satnav to guide me. I've been there with paper maps and a glance at the sun and on this side of the planet my inbuilt navigation skills lead me astray.

Once I roused completely in the morning I discovered a shortfall in my toilet bag. I might have had multiple tubes of toothpaste but no toothbrush. I wasn't intending to face a long day of travel with night breath.

As it happened, not too far away was a 24-hour supermarket and not a tiny hole in the wall, neither. This was a full-sized Coles/Woolies affair and if there's one thing I like doing it's exploring supermarkets in foreign. Shave and shower - and top marks for a monsoon showerhead, Hotel Scandic! - I ventured out trusting that I wouldn't have to breathe too close to any Finns.

Naturally it took me half an hour for my shopping. Like thirty seconds to select a toothbrush and the rest of the time to poke around the aisles.
I hunted down some lollies to bring home. Some milk chocolate with embedded salty licorice and a big white block with raspberry bits. Both with appropriately exotic wrappers. And, as a good test for my dental hygiene, a bag of local licorice for myself.

I also picked up an espresso coffee from one of the cafes in the railway station foyer.

I guess that this was about 0530. Time was really meaning nothing to me by this stage. No clock made much sense.

Writing up my trip report several days in arrears didn't help with the calendar aspect either. There were complaints from home that I hadn't made it much past the first day and when I check my time stamps here, I see that I was on the verge of leaving Helsinki for the second time and my narrative hadn't even reached my first arrival yet!

Not to worry, fuelled by coffee and licorice I made steady progress until about 0730 when I checked my booking and discovered that my room rate included breakfast.

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Visible from my courtyard window was the restaurant, including an outdoor dining area that probably didn't see much use most of the year but was looking mighty good right now.

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Nobody was checking credentials at the door; just walk in and help yourself.

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A superb array with separate stands for cooked stuff, healthy food, cereals, and areas for bread and drinks and so on.

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Coffee - of course - and a lingonberry drink from some automated drink dispenser.

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I carried my meal outside, where under a netting overhead a crafty gull stood ready to sample the repast.

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All around, the interior courtyard walls of the Art Nouveau building surrounded me. An Eliel Saarinen deign, if the name means anything.

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Oh yeah, anybody know what this thing is? Some Finnish breakfast delicacy, I make no doubt.

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Once my meal was reluctantly over, I took a stroll back through the sparse courtyard garden.

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Another go with my new toothbrush and I hefted my bags and was gone.

Was there a Sauna in this hotel or is that a given?

 

[Skyring]

Was there a Sauna in this hotel or that a given?

Oh yes. There was a sauna. I didn't check it out, though.

 

[Skyring]

Goodbye Bangkok
I can't say that my visit to Thailand got me much in touch with the spirit of the nation. Nor, come to think of it, did my visit to Pattaya Beach some years back. Rice paddies and temples and gentle people would be more my idea of the real land.

Nevertheless, I'm glad for my time there. One of the few lands that was never occupied and governed by Europeans; you have to admire that sort of independence.



Checkin was painless, thanks to that little red oval. Passport check, not so much. The sheer volume of travellers makes for lengthy queues.

Two more stamps in my passport: 67% of the total now being Thai!

At the security check I pulled out all my batteries and liquids and toothpastes.

A chill ran up my spine when I noticed a sign saying that some powerbanks over a certain capacity were not allowed aboard at the exact same moment that the bloke pointed to my chunkiest, most powerful, and most expensive power brick. A Cygnett Chargeup Boost III 20K; my pride and joy. I wasn't sure at that moment whether it was more than the capacity listed on the sign, and I prepared to wave it goodbye.

I handed it over, he gave it a glance and passed it back.



And then I was off into the airport airside shopping mall. A good cup of coffee and a meal before I got aboard Qantas back to Sydney. And a place to spend two hours with some USB ports, preferably co-located.

Oh, I know that some will chide me for my lack of imagination and intestinal fortitude but I selected Burger King for dinner and spent a happy hour or so nursing my tucker while I caught up on the neverending trip report. I was into the most interesting part and having a lot of fun polishing my pictures.

In due course it was time to move to the gate. I dutifully visited the toilets on the way, giving myself as much of a buffer as possible in advance of being confined to a window seat for eight hours or so.

I selected a seat at the gate lounge out of sight near the back while I wrestled flight socks onto my feet, and waited for the imminent boarding call, ready to spring up into the priority queue the moment the call came.

Waited.

And waited.

I got a Tripit advisory that boarding had been delayed half an hour. Then another delay. I was getting worried now. My connection at the far end was a tight one already and we were likely eating into whatever fudge factor I might have had. At last I pulled out a couple of Panadols and looked for a bubbler. I had dumped my last water bottle at security.

I quickly discovered that popping a couple of pills into my mouth, bending down to suck up the water, and swallowing the tablets in one fluid motion didn't work. I took in quite a few gulps before I worked out a technique of filling my mouth with water, tilting my head back like an emu, and swallowing hard.

Took a few tries before I got the little suckers down. That liquid would all work its way into the system and if we were delayed much longer I'd have to go find another toilet. I hoped not too many people had been chuckling over my performance.

"Pete!"

Uh-oh. I looked around.

Two friends from Canberra were sitting nearby. Smiling at me.

I'd been following their progress around Europe for the past month or so. Cruises and tours and trains and amazing photographs. These two were busy spending all their pandemic credits, making up for lost years. I'd known they were on their way home, how wonderful to meet them at some random airport.

Fellow BookCrossers as well. I gave them a hug each and we settled down for half an hour of catching up. They had come off a long flight from Athens and spent hours hanging around. No Qantas Club here so they had been in the airside seating wearing out their reserves.

If only we had been able to get together earlier. We could have polished off a few ciders in one of the bars and made it into a party. Possibly become one of those headlines you see of drunken Aussie tourists.

Oh well.

Airport staff were now handing out bottles of water as the delay stretched on.



The sun dropped, night fell and eventually the gate staff began manning their positions.

My mates later reported that two rows amidships had been vacated and earplugs handed out to those seated in nearby rows. Some high frequency leak, live cargo in the hold below, one of those intermittent whining noises you get in an old car or Airbus 333, who knows.

It had been a full flight before this, so I guess a few passengers were being bumped.

Not me! Yay for silver status!

And yay for meeting friends in the middle of travel. It's kind of soul-destroying, really, to be cast adrift from my roots and relationships into this chancy, sterile, abstract world of vast spaces and busy workers and streams of passengers. Smiles are mercenary and emotions held in check. A stall-holder serving you a meal is unlikely to meet you again, the views and buildings and vehicles are strange; things seen many years apart rather than everyday.

So it was a boost to meet good friends, stretching back over years. We've become grandparents together, passing on toys and books and clothes from one young girl to another even younger. Tired and travelworn though we might be, that bonding, that chance meeting in a strange land, has lifted us up.

It's certainly lifted my spirits, though I do wonder about my connection the next morning. Even more about my friends'; their flights are on different tickets and they might have to swallow the cost of a missed connection.

Oh well, not much we can do about it as boarding commences and we find our seats, twenty rows apart.

 

[Skyring]

Dawn over Botany Bay as the Bangkok flight positions for landing.​

Night flight home
We're in an Airbus A333, from the same batch as the outward flight a week back. I'm even in almost the same seat: 51A. If I have a window seat in the cheap cabin, I like to be well clear of the wings so I can look out the window and see scenery that isn't aluminium - or carbon fibre nowadays, I suppose - and my modest silver status is rarely good enough for a seat ahead of the wings.



We lift out of Bangkok in an evening wonderland of lights. A new city for me, unfamiliar geography to look at in an abstract pattern.

If I'm flying in or out of Canberra at night it's familiar territory. I know every roundabout from my taxidriver days. Every speed bump even, with new ones usually discovered by surprise with a back seat full of drunks.

Happy days!



Beer and pretzels for the grognards. The alcohol takes some of the edge off. I can enjoy the flight, even if my careful plans turn to custard at the far end.



Hmmm. I think the pork should hit the spot.



And it does. Perhaps a little too much rice and not enough actual dinner, Qantas, but somehow I think they know this already. I'm taking a chance on the wine here. Pinot Gris, it says on the label and the best I can say is that it is inoffensive. For this end of the plane, that's good; I've had some hideous vinegar served up in a plastic glass in my time.



I finish off Funny Girl from a week back. I should watch the follow up - Funny Lady - some time. I watched it when it was new in the cinemas once, but I've forgotten the details.

As we lift up out of Thailand the sea is sparkled with squid boats. Kind of magical from above, though I guess if you are down there working on the fleet it's not quite so glam.



I see more later on in the night as we pass over Brunei. I guess that's what they are, unless maybe they are tankers moored offshore.

Somewhere between Borneo and Burke I try for some sleep, pillow wedged into the window, feet braced against whatever I can find on the floor. I later discover that there was a feet net under there, but I'd stowed my little bag of necessities in that spot and didn't discover it when I needed it.

Oh well. Some sleep was had and every little bit helps.



Breakfast arrives before the sun. It's actually quite good. The sausages are tender and tasty, the vegetables a contrast in colour and texture. Yum. Coffee - such as it is - helps.



The sun appears beyond my wingtip, we're over the Blue Mountains, the golden sun floods in, we bank onto final and look, there's Puberty Blues outside my window.



Back in Oz, and we're late, with a further delay because our gate is occupied and we have to wait fifteen minutes before we taxi in the final few metres.

All told, apart from the delay, the best that can be said is that it was inoffensive. God knows I've had some horror flights in my time. I still remember the one where they served the passengers bread and water.

Flight 2313
Wednesday 21 June - Thursday 22 June 2023
QF 24 BKK-SYD
VH QPB A333 Sunshine Coast
Scheduled: 1810
Boarding: 1930 Gate G3, Seat 51A
Pushback: 1959
Takeoff: 2016 to S
Landing: 0720 from S
Gate: 0741

 

[drron]

False advertising I notice. breakfast menu says Roast tomatoes and you only got half a one! I could never do with less than 3 halves.

 

[Skyring]

Turning into Custard

My flight out of Sydney was due to depart at 0805 - QF508, I noticed - and the flight from BKK pulled into the gate at 0741.

I was pretty sure that not even the most spirited gallop through Sydney International could get me aboard.

I wasn't too worried. Qantas would get me to Canberra and the only real question was whether they'd send me via Brisbane on the off-chance that I really wanted to be there, perhaps to meet a friend in the terminal, or just dump me on the next Canberra flight and keep their ten status credits and a bunch of miles.

Not something I was really worried about. If I'd been ten credits short of my next level on the last day of my membership year, then yeah, I'd bust a gut to go the long way. With seven months left and at least one international trip planned, no, I wouldn't weep tears of blood and gnash my gritted teeth over a few points.

Through the duty-free, through the e-gates, grab the ticket. Yes. I probably look as grim and wan as my passport photo, no wonder it's an immediate match.

Baggage claim is a bit of a hike and there are my two Canberra mates waiting for the bags to come out. They were twenty rows ahead of me on the flight and that makes a big difference in shuffling off the plane but here we were at the same point in time and space.

As luck would have it their bags came out first and they were vanished. They still had a marginal chance of getting their flight home if the transfer gods lined up and smiled on them.

My bag took its sweet time but it came out eventually. Best part of having a bright yellow bag is that I can spot it the moment it appears in the hall.

I load it onto a trolley and scoot off for the customs line. Two lines and the far queue looks shorter so I gallop over there, probably saved myself five minutes. Once waved through - nothing to show on the arrivals card and no sniffer dogs coughing a snout in my direction - I race through and along to the transfer point. seems to me it used to be a bit closer in the old days, and I didn't have to go out into the open air.

I've missed my flight, the miss at the desk tells me, and although there's a flight I might just squeeze on to, my bag likely wouldn't. We'll put you on the one after she says, slaps a label on my bag and sends it off. Hmmm. There's no baggage receipt for me with my boarding pass - direct to Canberra, I notice - and I'm not given one of the little tear-off stickers. Oh well. I can trust Qantas with my luggage.

Security takes its time and then there's a wait in the transfer lounge for the next bus.

It eventually arrives and I pay Weird Al a little mental homage.

But no need. This bus is pretty cruisy.

There's a little time before boarding and those flight socks are killing me already. I look into the toilets to get them off and slide a cotton t-shirt on under my nylon shirt - it's winter in Canberra at the far end, after all - and the only space is the disabled cubicle. I don't bother locking the door and a chap barges in - in a hurry it seems - takes a look at my swollen feet and makes a creditable about-turn.

Boarding is called and along come my two Canberra friends, looking well-refreshed after a shower and change of clothes. And a real coffee in the lounge.

I'm still looking like an extra in The Walking Dead.

Our plane is an ancient Dash-8 and - oh joy - I've scored a seat beside the engine again.

Never mind. It's a short flight home, I'll arrive before lunchtime, and I can zonk off for the rest of the day, less whatever it takes me to have a shower and put a load of washing on.

Our little Dash-8 needs about two hundred metres of the third runway to get into the air - hmmm, did they really put my big bag full of books on? That should have kept us on the runway a leeetle while longer - and we turn over Sydney's southern suburbs, aiming for home.



The meal service is pretty spartan - as usual on these flights - but I choke down the sugary morsels in lieu of lunch.

We fly low in these planes. Often it's an exciting flight and any children aboard usually start complaining when we descend, My ears are pretty bloody ancient nowadays but I still make sure I have some chewing gum at the ready, With that thought I realise that for once I haven't picked up a cold or bug on this trip. Despite my five shots I reckoned I was odds-on to catch some Covid variant quite apart from the regular run of lurgies with a mix of people from all over the world beginning the moment I stepped into the Uber ten days ago.

Oh well, all to the good, and the cold-and-flu tablets I've carted halfway round the world and back can have their moment of glory at some future date.



We descend over Queanbeyan; my photo shows the little bit of Queanbeyan that is in the ACT, between the railway line marking the border and a loop of the river. Poor old Oaks Estate, orphan child of Struggletown.

We land on the cross runway, usually reserved for general aviation and a happy home for the "circuits-and-bumps" crowd of tomorrow's pilots A bonus there is that there's no long taxi to the gate; we peel off and pull to a halt and when they open the door, winter rolls in.

We stand around at the baggage carousel waiting for the bags. My spirits lift with a flash of bright yellow, but no, it's a North Face duffle and not my LL Bean number. Thank goodness there aren't too many following my lead, though I remember once coming into Sydney, pulling my distinctive yellow rolling duffle off and thinking that it must have had a hell of a time in the hold, it looked so worn and used, and how did they manage to shrink it to the next size down, to boot?

My friends lift off their bags and I gloomily contemplate the carousel. On looking at my AirTag app, I see that five minutes ago it was in Sydney, so I guess it's not in Canberra.

The luggage counter is shuttered, and counter 1 upstairs, listed as an alternate complaint point, is unmanned.

Not to worry. I've been here before. They'll courier it to me when they can.

I find an Uber, regard the familiar ride home, and hoist my carry on out when we roll up to my cottage, now just shy of a hundred years old.

Be it ever so humble…

Flight 2314
QF1431 SYD-CBR
VH-TQY Dash-8-300
Scheduled: 0930
Boarding: 0915 Seat 7A
Pushback: 0915
Takeoff: 0943 to N
Landing: 1022 from E
Gate: 1024

 

[jrfsp]

Welcome home!! you went half way around the world and back and it’s the SYD-CBR flight that lost your bag - at least it was on the way home! Hopefully it gets returned soon

 

[love_the_life]

Welcome home and thank you for a fabulous TR - I loved reading about the adventures. Where is the next convention?

 

[Skyring]

Welcome home and thank you for a fabulous TR - I loved reading about the adventures. Where is the next convention?

Most kind! Thank you.

I’m currently enjoying a Gold Coast winter, catching up after a long drive. The next Aus/NZ unconvention is on Waiheke Island in October but so far nobody has gotten aboard for the next world anniversary convention due in April. There may not be one; these things typically take a couple of years to set up.

 

[LostRedditor]

Great trip report! I like your style.

I also flew on the new Finnair business class just a day before you, out of Singapore, and I also love the look and feel of it.

Edinburgh looks magical. If I wasn’t up here (Norway) with a toddler I would absolutely pop over there for a visit. What was your favourite part of Edinburgh?

 

[Flyfrequently]

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The first steps back homeward - boy, you've got to carry that weight!
Facing me on my return journey were four days, five flights, two long layovers, and four international borders. For some of these I'd have to carry all my luggage with me.

So. First step was careful packing. And planning.

Sunday arvo I pulled out my bags and placed them on the tables in the living area, piling up all the things I needed to take with me and deciding where I needed to stow them.

All the books and souvenirs - some sweets, a can of specialty beer, other fragile items - took over the two big Sistema boxes that had hauled my Tim-Tams to Scotland. Yes, I had eight or so packs of Tim-Tams to give away and I made sure that they were all distributed. That made for a lot of free space.

Some of it was taken up with Volume 1 of a Sanskrit dictionary. Someone had picked precisely the right book for me. I don't use it every day, but when I need it, I need it. Eight of the William McIntyre Scottish crime books. These only have a limited availability - Amazon aside - even in Falkirk and I bought a bunch direct from the author.

I had a can of beer, a bottle of local cider, a can of Irn-Bru and a bottle of milk in the fridge. I took the beer and left the rest. Either the cleaner could have them or the next guest would find a pleasant surprise along with half a bag of ground coffee and the Finnair marmalade from the Bangkok flight.

And anything I inadvertently left behind if I wasn't careful.

I spend an hour or so carefully packing everything except what I'll be wearing and will need in the morning away. I may not have my big bag in Helsinki so I'd best be prepared for HLO, but in Bangkok I'll collect my bag there and will have a change of clothes. I'm up to date with laundry - the big advantage of an AirBnB - so I allocate clothes and socks and things accordingly.

Right. My flight to Helsinki leaves at 1000. Recommended to be there two hours in advance. I'd heard enough horror stories from other attendees, quite apart from my own two-hour wait for luggage, that I added in another hour, just to be sure. So I needed to be striding through the doors at 0700.

How would transport work?

Working backwards, I find that the first tram of the day leaves the connecting station at Edinburgh Park at 0600, arriving at the airport at 0614. Until 0700, there are trams every ten minutes and the frequency increases to every seven minutes until the evening. So if I just miss a tram and have to wait ten minutes, that's ten plus fourteen equals 24 minutes. Plus some transfer time between train and tram. So long as I get to Edinburgh Park by 0630, I should be right.

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Stepping backwards, what train gets me to Edinburgh Park by 0630? If I want to go direct, there's a train leaving Falkirk Grahamstown (the nearest station) at 0552, arriving at Edinburgh Park at 0617. I could also travel on to Haymarket or Waverley and pick up the tram there, but this this one looks good.

Next step(s) are in the direction of the station. I need to work out how long it will take me, and what my ticket-buying options are. Will I be able to roll my bag all the way there or will I need to annoy a cabbie or Uber with a short fare?

I step out. The station is only a few blocks away and it is five minutes basically straight up the street and over the line to get to the east-bound platform. There shouldn't be much traffic at that time. A bit of a worry is the cobblestone surface here and there. Not really rough and stony like some I've encountered, but nor is it smooth all the way. I might rattle a bit but it's mostly commercial between me and the station so I shouldn't annoy too many Falkirkers.

I ask at the station about tickets and the bloke suggests I buy one then and there. Fair enough.

So long as I'm out the AirBnB door at 0547 I should be right. Add in a few minutes fudge factor.

I set my alarm for 0500. All I need do is have a shower and shave, make my last cup of coffee, throw in the few things left unpacked and I can be off. Coffee and shower will have me set up nicely for the day of travel.

And it all works out, apart from another visit to the Orchard on Sunday evening to share a last drink or two with friends.

I walk Esther and her roommate Izzy back, give them a hug where our paths diverge and then I'm effectively a solo traveller once more.

It's kind of an empty feeling after being part of a crowd of good friends for five days.

East wind, rain
I wake to wetness. Not good. I don't want to walk five minutes even in a drizzle and begin the day damp. I have a light spray jacket, but still…

I poke my nose out in the dawn. It's daylight already, though under overcast and light rain. A big change from the preceding week of glorious sunny summer. That might be it until next June…

With a cup of coffee, I'm feeling sunnier. I check out the window and although the ground is wet, the rain has stopped for the moment. I won't need a taxi.

One final check, I drag my bag down the stairs and out the door, slot the key into the lockbox and point my nose north toward the station.

It's pretty much just me rolling my bag over the various surfaces and ridges. Just as I arrive at the station - in good time for my train - I detect some roughness in the rolling. Uh-oh. One of the wheels on my duffle is mangled. Doesn't look good. For the moment, it's still working but I may need to swap out my bag, or carry it. Somewhere north of twenty kilos; that will wear me down.

A train arrives. LNER going Glasgow to Edinburgh to London. I've checked. This one doesn't stop at Edinburgh Park. My Scotrail train will be along in a couple of minutes.

And so it is. One of the ugliest trains I've seen in a long time. Maybe it's practical with a connecting door on its nose but it looks hideous.

Nevertheless it's warm and dry and practically empty inside. A bored conductor checks my ticket and I watch the Scottish morning scroll past, with sleepy passengers boarding at the small towns on the way to Edinburgh.

Edinburgh Park itself has a couple of stations but I'm awake up to this and get off at the right one. My bag's bodgy wheel seems to have healed itself, because it is rolling smoothly along the tiles to the adjacent tram station. I have to take a lift up and over and down again to get to the far platform, but that's okay. I have plenty of time.

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And, as luck would have it, a tram arrives in a few minutes. I lug my stuff aboard, dump it in a convenient location and relax for the short trip to the airport.

A conductor politely pointed out that my bags were occupying a zone reserved for wheelchairs and perhaps I might consider relocating it to a luggage rack?

I'd forgotten about the racks - too many trains and buses and trams over the past week and they were all running together in my mind - but I complied. Ten minutes later, I was alighting at Edinburgh Airport, relentlessly on time.

I'm pretty sure I tipped out that milk in the AirBnB fridge.

As with the rest of your TR, I am enjoying your journey home @Skyring and now a little giggle and very big smile as I read your last sentence

 

[love_the_life]

Most kind! Thank you.

I’m currently enjoying a Gold Coast winter, catching up after a long drive. The next Aus/NZ unconvention is on Waiheke Island in October but so far nobody has gotten aboard for the next world anniversary convention due in April. There may not be one; these things typically take a couple of years to set up.

I can’t believe you have deserted Canberra’s winter!
NZ should be nice in October if you are attending.

 

[drron]

well done. A great TR. AFF now feels complete again.

 

[Flyfrequently]

Welcome home @Skyring and enjoy the warmth of The GC.
Thank you for taking us along with you, enjoyed every part of your Journey to the Land of Flying Barges.

 

[OZDUCK]

Thanks for the TR. You looked to have a very good time - as did I following along.

 

[1022]

Tremendous trip report. Thank you Skyring for bringing us, so evocatively, on the journey with you.

 

[Skyring]

Great trip report! I like your style.

I also flew on the new Finnair business class just a day before you, out of Singapore, and I also love the look and feel of it.

Edinburgh looks magical. If I wasn’t up here (Norway) with a toddler I would absolutely pop over there for a visit. What was your favourite part of Edinburgh?

Edinburgh has so many great spots. I think I like the Princes Street Gardens with a view of the Castle most, but Calton Hill has a lot to recommend it. The narrow old lanes and closes of the Old Town are charming.

I like the Meadows, the soaring spire of Barclay Viewforth, the Union Canal, a whole bunch of places. The Elephant House is always fun, and I like to say hello to Greyfriars Bobby sitting nearby.

One hidden treasure is the cafe on the roof of the Scottish Museum. Have a (literal) High Tea there with a rooftop view.

Scotland is more than Edinburgh, of course, and the place is absolutely crammed full of wonderful scenery. Driving a Jag around the Cairngorms was a tonne of fun, and looking at the ancient village of Skara Brae a highlight in my life.

 

[Bundy Bear]

Good trip report, I need to start and finish mine but it won't be to your standards.

 

[Skyring]

Good trip report, I need to start and finish mine but it won't be to your standards.

Oh, I wouldn’t say that. We all look at travel from different standpoints. I know that you took a lot more photos than I did.