The Flying Kiwi

Toothless and Toronto

2009-07-13T15:08:00.004+04:00

For those of you checking back here religiously will have noticed (and commented) that I have been slack, once again, in updating The Flying Kiwi. Truth be told, its because I haven't really had much to write about... Until now.

The legs are all better, but to knock me while I was down, it was also a fine time to remove a wisdom tooth and leave me gappy. Always trying to be sick-day thrifty (I'm not sure why, as when I was at school I didn't mind having a sick day here, there and everywhere) I decided to use the same period of Sick Leave from my leg surgery to have my tooth extracted. They like to discourage us from flying for 5 days after oral surgery, so using the frequent-flyer surgicial shopper card that I should probably have been issued by now, I went in for my third medical procedure in 9 months. I have to apologise to everyone for not receiving a profit share this year. The company says it is due to the Global Financial Crisis, but I happen to believe it may be because of the Dh80,000 (NZ$40,000) medical bill I have racked up in the last 12 months. Thank you Emirates! I am grateful! Really.

Almost two years on, I have finally returned to Toronto! On Wednesday last week, the first rostered A380 YYZ flight appeared on my roster, allowing me to wing my way back to Canadian fabulosity. Why-Why-Zee is simply amazing, everything you could ever want in a city and more. Having days off, and with nothing else to do, Adrian hopped on staff travel and came with me, for his virgin Canadian adventure. Having him there, combined with quite possibly THE best combination of crew from across the cabins, we began the festivities upon touch-down! Daniel's wedding venue of next year became our dinner venue of the first night. Located in the Distillery District, The Boiler House instantly accommodated our table of 11, juggling a few things around and finding a home for the hungry crew we were. Wine aplenty, divine food galore, the wedding venue gets the BIGGEST tick from us all!

A spot of shopping the next day saw the wardrobe restored with a splash of Abercrombie and Fitch (here I was fretting about the lack of availability now that New York was taken from us so hostilely), and a new pair of jeans from Armani Exchange. With the approval of Eric the changing room assistant, we all purchased something, because at the end of the day, "what would Eric do?" If Eric liked what we put on, we liked what we put on. If Eric didn't eat all day, then we didn't eat all day. Quite possibly the fantasy of us all, Eric was inspirational to our entire layover, and potentially our entire lives henceforth!

A short water-taxi ride over to Toronto Island in the Great Lake Ontario, we discovered nature untouched in the middle of this bustling city. No cars of any sorts are allowed over here, just bicycles, geese and clothing-optional beaches! Only having an hour to spend on the island after we had spent a little too long salivating over our aforementioned Armani hottie, it was evident we would need to head straight for the beach! Without looking too perverted, we made our way to the waters edge to question why exactly people would want to go skinny dipping in water so cold, in the broad daylight. I guess though, when its all you've got, you do it, and you do it naked! Eh?!

That night was also our First Officer's 26th birthday. Yes, just 3 months older than me, the reality check was enough to make me stuff myself into depression with a crateful of Tim Hortons donuts, but no, Eric wouldn't approve, so instead, we hired a stretch limo and toured Toronto's finest spots for 2 hours, drinking Veurve Cliquot like the glitteratzi that we are! Leaving us to continue our festivities into the wee small hours of the night, which evidently turned into 3am before we knew it.

Not feeling too revolting the next day, surprisingly, we perked up bright and early and made our way towards the cinema to see Brüno, a movie that will never ever be shown in Dubai. No amount of censorship editing will ever allow it to pass by the Municipality, which is a shame, because it is freaking hilarious! The 'gay Austrian fashion icon' travels to America to became famous, stumbling across Paula Abdul, a swingers party, straight-converting pastors, Middle Eastern powers-that-be, redneck Alabaman's in what is quite probably one of the funniest movies of the decade!

But, as all great things come to an end, so do layovers... The flight home was tolerable except for the dragon in 7K, who, evidently would probably find something to fault in a plain white wall. Horrendous.com! Alas, at the end of the day, we just need to sit and ask ourselves; What would Eric do?

Compression Stockings and Bathroom Vodka

2009-05-30T12:51:00.005+04:00

A little less than a week ago, I underwent round two of Operation: New Legs, having the faulty little (or not so little, as this case was) veins removed from my left leg to provide me with pain-free, throbbing-free, and bulging-vein-free legs again. Back in September 2008, I had Endovenous Laser Surgery performed on both legs to remove Varicose Veins which had formed, rather grotesquely, at a relatively young age. I was told, repeatedly, whilst I was in hospital the first time that I was far too young to be having my veins removed, that it is something for old ladies to suffer from. You can therefore imagine the surprise when I turned up to the American Hospital on Monday to have another set removed on my left leg, to find several of the same staff in the Operating Room recognise me again and question why I am such a faulty example of veinal plumbing!

I did a bit of digging around, and have found out there are several types of occupations that, due to long periods of time spent on your feet, encourage Varicose Veins to form; teachers, nurses, chefs, hairdressers and flight attendants. Apparently, quite common in cabin crew, the amount of time spent walking around, bending up and down, combined with cabin pressure from the altitude is a recipe for problems to occur, quite a lot earlier than perhaps what may have occured later in life. Left untreated, and depending on the amount of reflux in your veins (backwards flow of blood), the pooled blood (what you see on the outside as 'varicose veins' or bulging veins) can form into a clot, which can then be life threatening.

The Doctor knew when he did the first operation, that I would probably need a follow-up procedure to close off the Short Saphenous Vein in my left leg, but until the first operation had been done (where he closed the Long Saphenous Veins in both legs) he would not be able to see the extent to which the other vein would be suffering. Using ultrasound technology, he could then see the vein had dialated to close to 1cm wide, which is about four times the width it should have been, allowing quite a severe amount of reflux. So, more laser surgery, more anaesthetic, more beige compression stockings, and another two weeks off work!

Part of the post-op care plan that I am on, I have a cocktail of 5 different medications to take each day for a couple of weeks, and a part of this medley is a self-injection to help thin my blood. Once I was discharged from the hospital, I realised that I wasn't given any sterile wipes to prep the area to inject, so the kiwi inginuity in me tells me to make do. Henceforth, I have a lovely bottle of Finlandia Vodka sitting on the bathroom benchtop for me to use the alcohol to steralise my tummy with! I can assure you, this is the only time I will allow booze in the bathroom, but I know that if the self-harm thought of injecting myself gets to much, I won't have to reach to far to forget the pain!

I really should probably stop flying one of these days, but I figure that it is a job that I love doing, and I don't think I have many veins left in my legs to deform, so I don't see the harm in flying for a few more years yet!

Bahahahamas with a splash of Frisco!

2009-05-26T13:30:00.006+04:00

When you are forced to rethink your muchly publicised holiday plans of spending more than a week of sun, sand, and summery cocktails in Mexico because someone decides to declare a Swine Flu pandemic, you are swiftly required to make some important decisions in ones life. Do I still go beachy? Do I want to go tropical? Do I still want to go somewhere warm where I can continue to work on the tan that I have been slowly building over the last month? Yes. Important decisions to make.

So the decision was made, quite unintelligently I have to admit! It was a case of opening up JetBlue's routemap on their website (remembering the wonderful staff travel deal they provide us with) finding somewhere we could fly to from New York (where we were easily able to get to from Dubai), and then seeing which destination best suited our schedule. Nantucket? No, just sounds wrong. Charlotte? Jumping to stereotypical conclusions, sounded a little redneck for us. Nassau? Where? The Bahamas. Satisfying our beachal, tropical, and temperatural requirements, and also having a slight novelty factor of being out-of-the-way for a traditional New Zealand tourist, it was chosen. Five days in The Bahamas, followed by four days in San Francisco.

Our trip was planned so Adrian would return from a six-day work trip from Sydney and Auckland at 6am, we would spend all that day repacking his suitcase, relaxing and preparing for the holiday before flying out at 2am that night on an Emirates flight to New York. As things tend to not always go to plan, especially with this holiday, a instinctively checked the booked load on the JFK flight we were planning to go on, the night before Adrian was to depart on his long work trip. Uh oh... EK203 had been downsized, and what was meant to be a 354 seat B777-300ER with 250 passengers booked on it, was now planned to be operated by a 262 seat B777-200ER. It was too risky to try and 'hope' we would get on, when we had paid a substantial amount of money on hotel accommodation for when we arrived. Another important decision had to be made, Adrian was going to have to try and pack for his work trip, AND a two week holiday in the one suitcase as he would be landing from Sydney, and then running straight back to the airport again for the Emirates A380 flight to New York 2 hours later. No rest for the wicked!

Arriving 14hrs later, we had a night booked at a daggy JFK airport hotel so we could catch an early flight to Nassau the next morning at 7am. JetBlue came up trumps, we were checked in for our Carribean island getaway and took off with no worries on our minds.

The Sheraton Cable Beach Resort was to be our home for the next four nights, nestled on the shores of the most stunningly bright blue water I could ever have imagined. Our room wasnt quite ready when we arrived (we were there by 10:30am...) so we were able to use the resort in the meantime while it was spruced up by housekeeping. We had booked ourselves a 'resort-view' room, so upon exploring, we had decided that our room was probably going to overlook the kids-club or restaurant rooftop. We were finally allowed to checkin, and as we were taken further and further away from the reception, our room finally appeared on what was facing the opposite side to the resort grounds. Great. We were going to overlook the carpark or something equally as unpleasant. We swung the door open to a huge room, with a GIANT bed, sliding door onto a little balcony, and a view that was completely unobstructed of the Carribean Sea. The sun was shining bright, reflecting off the water, we knew we were in paradise.

Nassau itself was originally a pirate-town, now though, it is a tourist playground for the rich and famous. Cruise ships arrive daily, dropping hoards of Americans on the wharves for a day. The original (since copied by Dubai) Atlantis Resort is here. The sun-seekers head to the beaches, the adventurous head out on boats to go diving and snorkelling, the gamblers head to the pokies to spend their life savings, the kiwi-boys head on a self-drive mission. Hiring the scariest rental car we have ever driven for a day, the Hairy Canary circumnavigated New Providence Island, the main island where Nassau is and over 80% of the population. Whenever we found a beach worth stopping at (we literally could have stopped every 5 minutes) we would take the stolen hotel beach towels out and laze about before driving on to the next gorgeous location. Snorkelling one day, we were buzzing about over some coral when I looked down to the seafloor (only about a metre deep) to find a huge stingray floating along the bottom. As I saw it, Adrian did too and before you could have time to let out a little pee in fright, we both swam away as fast as we could! I am sure it was harmless, but we weren't eager to find out!

Foodwise, the Bahamas could have perhaps done a little better. But this is a colony of islands, and anything has to be imported. With that said, the sealife becomes dinner, especially Conch, which is the meat from inside the most beautiful shells. Not really ready to munch on the guts of a shell (it is apparently nice), we were more happy to sip dacquiris and eat the culinary fare that we knew. San Francisco (Frisco, to me and Adrian - we like to think we are now locals) was next, and there would be plenty of gourmet food to chow down on there!

Flying back up to New York and then straight over to Frisco, transcontinental for 6hours, we met up with our friends Amy and Neil, from Dubai. We had left Neil in charge of organising some transport the following day, as we were all very keen to go up into the Napa Valley, home of California's wine region. In true American style, the 8 seater stretch limosuine turned up at 11am to begin 7 hours of winetasting. Our own driver, tinted windows, glam-factor aplenty, we will no longer settle for anything less! We saw five different wineries across the day, ate the most amazing lunch at a rustic cafe in Napa, drunk enough wine to make even the hardened boozehags proud, and fell asleep about 20mins before arriving back at the hotel!

Days spent wandering the streets, soaking up the springtime sun, eating our way from restaurant to restaurant, it is no wonder I was able to put on a bit of the weight I had lost through the stress of replanning the Mexican extravanza that never happened! Flying home, we decided to go back to Dubai with Air New Zealand to London and then on the EmiRAT to DXB. It was over too fast, but memories that will never be forgotten!

The Top Ten: New York

2009-05-04T22:37:00.006+04:00

As I say farewell to the great city of New York, at least for the time being, I felt it appropriate to offer a final send off with my Top Ten New Yorker Moments to share with you all how I will miss this place.

Emirates has decided that, for now, the Super-Duper Jumbo Jet, the A380 is better allocated to a city pair that has regularly higher load factors than the current situation we are facing with New York. In these global times, it is smart business sense to do so, it is just sad for those crew who knew this place as a second home, as we say so long. NYC is on the outer, but as a result, we are in fact picking up two destinations, Toronto three times a week, and a daily service to Bangkok. Two of my favourite layovers, two very different cities, and two very different customer types!

But these musings aren't about whats new, so without further interruption, here it is;

The Flying Kiwi's Top Ten: New York (in no particular order)

ONE: Central Park, no matter the season, no matter the reason, a stroll around, through or to Central Park is always one of those treasured memories to savour. Plonked in the middle of the tantrums of New York City's bustle, this oasis is a haven to relax, watch the most fascinating people live their lives, find the hidden gems that you didnt see the week before, uncover yet another movie location from your favourite film, and simply let your worries float away.

TWO: Breakfast at Café Metro, on the corner of 7th & 54th. Yes, you have to be there before 10:30am, which is never an issue for this time-zone-crazed traveller, and yes, you probably won't understand José the Mexican chef who is preparing your food. But the Granola Parfait (a fancy name for yoggit and moosli), the fresh OJ, the French Toast with Strawberries and an Everything Bagel with Bacon, Tomato and Cream Cheese are beyond heavenly, and a great start to the day.

THREE: Wholefoods. Columbus Circle's basement hides a gem that I discovered nigh on a year ago, the organic, wholesome supermarket that is Wholefoods. Everything about this place is fresh, clean, green and fabulous. Momma's Chicken and Rice Soup in the winter, Blueberries by the kilo (or pound as the case may be) in the summer. I salivate at the thought, and become depressed at my inability to have access to these treats.

FOUR: Broadway's Theater District. It is no surprise that The Flying Kiwi is partial to a musical or twenty two, and having these stages no longer on my hotel doorstep will be a challenge and a sacrifice. Having seen a good number of the current theatrical offerings, I do feel, though, that I have been very fortunate and have seen enough to last me through these tough times!

FIVE: Paper thin walls of the crew hotel. Ok, no, when trying to sleep in the afternoon for a 20:30 pick-up, and listening to the hotel cleaners talk about which type of chilli con carne they are going to make for dinner is not ideal, but its kind of endearing, and it was New York. It came with the territory, and I might (just might) miss it now!

SIX: Walking over the Brooklyn Bridge. Such a wonderful skyline, Manhattan really knows how to sparkle on a clear day, and this is one of my best memories in this city.

SEVEN: Bath and Body Works. This store is a clean-freaks porn-shop! Foaming Handsoap, Antibacterial Sanitiser, Scented Massage Oils, Fragranced Candles, so many things to love, so many things to buy, and so so affordable. BBW, goodbye my friend, I am well stocked now, but don't fret, I will be back as the supplies run low. Somehow!

EIGHT: The Subway. It could do with a scrub down, and it could do with losing a few of the hobo's, but all in all, the most efficient, frequent, and affordable way to get around the city.

NINE: Summer. Endless days of amazing weather. Sunshine, Blue Sky, just hot enough to know its hot, but not too hot that you swelter.

TEN: Abercrombie & Fitch. That distinct smell you get, 2 blocks away from the front door. The queue that weaves around the corner down 56th Street to give the illusion that its as busy as sin inside (it usually is, but I maintain, the queue is simply a marketing gimmick), the half-naked model in the front door, the shop-assistants who have no idea where their merchandise is but whose only job is to dance on the spot and say "hi, hows it going" every 34 seconds, the constant "have you tried our new fragrance" everytime you purchase something, the piles and piles of tshirts, hoodies, and jeans that you always adore but can never find in your size, the pounding music which could be mistaken for an aerobics workout mix, the dark windows and dim lighting which makes you realise the colour of the shirt you just bought is in fact a completely different colour to what you had intended. Abercrombie. You will be sorely missed. Thankfully, never fear, I know where to find you in Toronto - yes, more expensive, but you are still within reach!

New York, goodbye, I hope it is not too long until we are connected once more - So Long, Farewell, Kakite Ano!

Cancún, Can't-cún.

2009-05-01T14:43:00.004+04:00

H1N1. Swine Flu. Oinky Influenza. Holiday Ruiner. All descriptions of the latest global pandemic sweeping the world country by country, fatally taking control of the people it passes by. Swine Flu is also the cause of our now cancelled Mexican fiesta that Adrian and I were going on in one weeks time.

Originating from Mexico, to date there have been over 150 deaths as a direct result of Swine Flu in Mexico alone. Our plan was to fly into Cancún, on the tip of the Yucatan Peninsula for a week of sun, beach, guacamole and margaritas. We were staying in some gorgeous resorts that made even us jealous, one over on Isla Mujeres (a 30min boat ride off the coast), and another back in the Hotel Zone in Cancún itself. But we are not. We had bought, in a rare occurence for us, full-fare American Airlines tickets from New York to Mexico, for a hassle and stress free holiday. By having commercial tickets we weren't at the mercy of Standby Listings, meaning we were guaranteed to get there, we were guaranteed to get back - a recipe for a relaxing holiday. Who was to think though that these commercial tickets were then the cause of so much stress!?

American Airlines posted a Travel Notice on their website, offering those passengers travelling to Mexico between 25APR-06MAY the opportunity to change their dates, their destinations, or offer refunds to even the non-refundable ticket holders. Excellent. Except, Adrian and I were booked to travel on 09MAY. Numerous phonecalls to American Airlines ensued, with the response coming back that, evidently Swine Flu will be cured by the time you travel, so therefore you travel or you forfeit your ticket. Helpful.

Resigning to the fact that we were now out of pocket by US$450 for a holiday we weren't going on, we needed to relook at our plans, find somewhere that wouldnt cost a lot to get to, that still satisfied our beachy needs! Upon speaking to our good friends at JetBlue in America, we discovered an extraordinary staff travel benefit with them that is a closely guarded secret and we are now off to Nassau, in The Bahamas!

A few days after all of this has occured, the corn-field-folk running American Airlines have decided that they can't predict when Swine Flu will be over (funnily enough), and have now extended their deadline by a week and a half, meaning our tickets are included in the daterange of possibilties. Luckily, I had a New York trip for work as this news was released, and so I nipped into their ticketing office on Lexington Ave, and was greeted by your stereotypical airline employee of America. Gladys was approximately 74. She had bleached blonde hair, glasses bigger than the circumference of her face, and she had attitude. Her name badge had been extended several times over to include all the languages that she spoke, but interestingly enough, she refused to speak any of them properly with any of the customers she handled before me! As if she stole the stickers of the flags of the languages she claimed to speak, in order to avoid being retrenched over the years, she stuck them onto her badge and has been sitting in that same chair since 1942 dishing out the same surly responses to anyone who walked through the front door. Gladys. A true ambassador.

Anyway, at the end of the day, we can breath easy now, knowing that our tickets are not going wasted. While it was costly and not ideal to change them to Nassau (which we didnt really need anyway, as we can kindly fly with JetBlue for the smell of an oily rag, literally), we managed to get a refund on the Cancún tickets in the form of a Travel Voucher to use the money again over the next year. We will go to Mexico. We will enjoy those gorgeous resorts. We will just have to wait until the piggy-flu is resolved (which, according to American Airlines latest prediction will be 16MAY!)

Sun. Sand. Sydney.

2009-04-22T17:11:00.003+04:00

Its been some time since I blogged, and I feel bad, sorry, but I have had several people urging me to write again, and so like the good boy I am, here I am, back, big time!

At the beginning of the month, I finally broke my run of London trips. Despite having one singular New York flight at New Year, I have done nothing but London Heathrow's since November. Alas, the rostering Gods were shining bright on me for April, and sent me on an 8 day trip to Sydney. I say 8 day trip, I should really say 8 day holiday, as despite having a long 14+ hour flight on either end to get there and back, as well as a day of flying to Auckland in the middle, it was happy days, happy holidays all round!

Arriving early on a Saturday morning from Dubai, I decided this was going to be a perfect chance to also spend some time with my Mum. With some careful coordination of Staff Travel with my former airline (and coincidentely my brothers current employer) Pacific Blue, she flew in and arrived just 45mins after I did, to spend a brilliant weekend in Sydney together with me. Staying at the crew hotel, right in Central Sydney, we pounded those Pitt Street pavements like they've never been pounded before, finding bargains, goodies, trinkets, and treasures to fill the suitcases to take home with us.

It was just wonderful to have some time together with Mum, and while it was just 2 days, it was perfect. I hired us a car on the Sunday morning, as we had both spent plenty of time in the CBD in the past, but apart from the obligatory touristic adventure to Bondi Beach, we had never seen beyond the urban bustle. Thanks to Thrifty Car Rentals, I got on the roads and discovered our first lesson in Sydney City Planning; Bus Lanes. As if they owned the roads, the buses get to turn where no cars can, they get to glide past all the traffic and push in where no cars can, and basically just get in the way, when no cars can. But, I can drive in Dubai, which is not something to scoff at, so I can get by in Sydney and nothing was going to get in my way! Not even an articulated bus, longer than my rental car, 20 times over! Over the Harbour Bridge, Google Maps in hand, with trusty Mumma Kiwi as my navigational aid (though, I'm still trying to decide if I will use her directions again...) (no offence Mum, we did a great job!!) and northbound to Palm Beach, the home of TV's Home and Away.

Gorgeous late summer sunshine, a walk to a lighthouse which nearly killed us both (Mum was cursing me for days), and a surf lifesaving competition to perve upon. We filled ourselves on fine Australian food, lazed about in the fresh Australian air and had a time of mother-son bonding which was well overdue, provided lovingly by Emirates!

Bonza!

No One Mourns The Wicked

2009-03-20T18:06:00.006+04:00

Good News. She's Dead. The Witch of the West is dead! The wickedest witch there ever was, the enemy of all of us here in Oz, is DEAD!

We all know the story, Dorothy comes along, follows a Yellow Brick Road, finds a man made of tin, a cowardly lion, an irritatingly happy fairy, and a cacklingly green witch. She finds some ruby slippers, tells the wizard he is a moron, and tells the world there is no place like home. See, we all know the story... But what happened before Dorothy came along? What happened that made the nasty Wicked Witch of the West so wicked? Enter stage right (or was that through the front door of London's Apollo Victoria Theatre?), and be taken to Munchkinland of the pre-Dot time, and meet Glinda and Elphaba, Wicked's witches of Oz!

Wicked opened on Broadway in October 2003, and has gone on to become the New Musical of the World with long-running productions having been staged in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, London, Tokyo, Osaka, Stuttgart, Melbourne and San Francisco. It grosses over $1m a week on Broadway, and has won itself loads of awards along the way.

So what makes Wicked so brilliant? By taking such a well known story, turning back the time and explaining the back-story to why the witches are the way they are makes way for a plot of creativity. Blend with it a couldron full of colourful sets, amazing special effects, driving music and some of the most horrifically difficult songs to sing, and you have a showstopping success!

Smothered in layers of green make-up, Elphaba was played by Kerry Ellis, an actress who brought so much justice to the character with the strongest voice I have heard in a very long time. The end of Act One finishes with the song Defying Gravity, which, I suspect, was originally titled Defying Vocality, as some of the notes that Elphie must hit are extraordinarily high, followed by the some of the lowest depths that shouldn't be acheivable by a lady!

Get your skates on folks, grab your broomsticks, greenify yourselves and immerse yourself in the Land of Oz, you will be changed For Good!

Back to School; Again!

2009-03-06T12:00:00.003+04:00

2 years and 11 months after packing up my life and moving to Dubai for my international life at Emirates, I am currently in the midst of 9 days of intensive training for the next phase in my flying career: Senior Flight Steward onboard the Ultra Long Range A380 fleet. An SFS is the first step in the leadership and management chain at Emirates, and the crew member in charge of the Economy and Business Class customers and crew. When you first join the airline, you begin working in Economy Class as a Grade 2 Flight Steward/ess (despite me cringing everytime anyone calls me a Steward. Its Flight Attendant, or Cabin Crew member, people!). After some time of proven proficiency and poise, you are promoted to work in Business Class as a Grade 1. Moving ahead, you can look forward to becoming an FG1, my current position, where you work as one of four crew caring for the needs of our First Class customers. You can then apply for selection into the leadership roles, beginning as an SFS, and then finally onwards to become a Purser - the overall chief of the aircraft (any higher up, and you'd be flying the plane...)

Dedicated as crew solely on the A380, means managing the largest aircraft in the Emirates fleet, where you could have 489 passengers and a Cabin Crew complement of 26. A large responsibility, which, fortunately, Emirates provides fantastic coaching and training on. After these 9 days of classroom sessions, I will then be placed in the SFS Development Pool, where I will fly in the role of an SFS, and be monitored by means of assignments, leadership modules, reflective journals and review meetings to complete over the next 3 months.

So these next 3 months have been written off in advance, my life and soul are commited to getting through this Development Pool, and once on the other side, I look forward to being an effective role model and leader for the crew I will have the pleasure of working alongside.

In other news, it has been announced that the EK A380 will begin flying to Seoul in Korea from November, which is, surprisingly, a destination I have yet to discover! My kim-chi is at the ready as I look forward to uncovering everything they have to offer this nosey little Kiwi boy!

Gingerboy Jake

2009-03-05T12:28:00.003+04:00

Back at the end of November, in one of my more vulnerable states, I received a phonecall while I was sleeping in New York prior to my flight back to Dubai. I somehow forgot about the call in my slumbersome state, and upon my arrival back in DXB, suddenly remembered the conversation with Adrian about the stray kitten he rescued from outside the Indian supermarket across the street from our apartment building.

Weighing 600 grams, and no bigger than a rat, this kitten was by no means a conventional looking cat. He was about 5 weeks old, and had obvioulsy been away from Mumma Cat for a long time. Skin and bones aplenty, he had the biggest ears, on the smallest face, with devilish fangs and a kink in his skinny tail. Yet, he was adorable. He was brought up into the house and instantly began purring and cuddling the moment he was in our arms. Little Jake was here to stay.

A little wary to begin with, we wanted to have him checked out by the vet to make sure he was healthy and clean before we became too attached, but it was too late, he was our new baby boy. Thankfully he is a healthy little man, and continues to amaze us with his cute antics, and friendly disposition. Rag-doll-esque at times, he will sleep anywhere at anytime, with his arms happily above his head. Tail-kinks and all (apparently it is a genetic defect in streetcats), he is our little mate, our little friend, Jake.

Megève, Monsieur!

2009-02-28T17:19:00.007+04:00

Hot on the heals of El Birthday en Madrid, the adventure continued northeast via Spain's national and not so impressive airline, Iberia. Not to complain though, as the staff ticket from Madrid to Geneva cost in the region of NZ$40 for a 2½hr flight, to the lakeside Swiss city.

Yes, there are mountains in Switzerland. Yes, we could have skied on them. But no, we weren't stopping here: We were crossing the boarder vehicularly into French territory, to the alpine village of Megève. Just 50mins by car from GVA airport, we passed Mont Blanc and Sallanches, arriving in the flurrying of fresh snow in the late afternoon. This town is straight from the pages of every wintery fairy tale. Icicles hanging from the chalet rooves, star-lights twinkling from them leaveless trees, sleighs being drawn by, what I imagine are, very cold hooved horses. This paradise was our home for the next couple of days to enjoy some dreamy European skiing on the French Alps.

With the local Boulangerie throwing its doors open in the stupidly early and cold hours of the morning, we happily layered as many clothes as we could rustle together each day to buy the fresh baguettes, croissants, and pan au chocolat that were required to see us through breakfast. I admire the bakers, beginning their day at the horrendous time that they do, simply to fill the tummies of the needy and hungry. Our dietery requirements satisfied (perhaps calorifically not so pleasing), we were all ready to head to the slopes and hook ourselves up with a lift pass and a set of clumsy, cumbersome, but adrenaline inducing skis!

Just a 5 minute walk from where we were staying, the ski lodge had everything we could ever need. Buying eChip ski-passes was slightly more advanced than the last time I skied at Mt Hutt, Canterbury, back in 2000, but all the more convenient to scan your self onto the chairlifts, without evening lifting a barcoded tag. I'm not a rubbish skier, but by no means am I about to race back in time to Nagano's Winter Olympics either, but having progressed from only knowing how to stop via the knee-knocking snowplough move to now gracefully gliding down the mountain from side to side like a swan would do (should you ever see a swan on a mountain) and stopping abruptly with a spraying of frosty ice!

Beginning on a few of the easier Green and Blue runs, by the end of Day One we had successfully completed a Red run, thrown tantrums from falling over too many times, drunk Vin Chaud (hot red wine) mid-ski, and broken a rib (Adrian, not me), we happily called it a day. It was time for a hot shower, an application of deep-heat and a journey back to the village for CRÊPES! Mmmmmm.

Two days worth of alpine bliss was all it was meant to be, and so the journey back to Dubai began. Leaving bright and early from Megève back to Geneva by road, then zipping up to Frankfurt and onwards to Dubai with our friends at Lufthansa. Business Class! (We had to finish off how the journey began...) It was confirmed upon our return that Adrian had, in fact, broken his rib, and he is currently convalescing back in New Zealand. That boy will do anything to get a week at home. Wink wink! To all of you budding skiers out there, may I urge you to take out Travel Insurance prior to embarking on the kind of adventures that alpine excursions specifically entail... You never know when your goggles might fog up, and you go scooting down the mountain into a not-so-conveniently placed mound of powder! Head over heals, ski over ski, ribs, evidently, are quite precious parts of the human anatomy!

El Cumpleaños en Madrid

2009-02-18T18:35:00.006+04:00

Birthdays for the Kiwi Boys are enjoyed by us both. Its been three years of togetherness next month, meaning six birthdays have been celebrated, in six different destinations. Not necessarily on the exact date, as Emirates can, at times, decide that they feel we are better off satisfying the needs of the worlds unwashed on our actual day of birthing, however the festivities are certainly enjoyed as close to the birthday as possible. For two boys with nearly everything they need in their transient Middle Eastern home, a holiday away somewhere provided by the other person is a brilliant way of enjoying something different, with a new culture, and quite importantly, being able to do that something together.

Introduzca 2009 and the holiday gifting tradition continues with Adrian’s birthday vacation of a journey back to España; Spain’s Capital City, Madrid.

The Global Economic Crisis has affected many industries around the world, not least including the aviation industry. People are not flying as much as they used to, but those who must travel are now flying in economy class instead of business or first class. Not good for the bank accounts of the airlines, but brilliant for those of us with access to staff travel. Indulgently, we decided to make good use of this opening in the premium cabin, and booked our journey to Madrid with Lufthansa in Business Class. Leaving Dubai at midnight, on the Boeing 747-400, we nestled into our cocoons for the darkened journey to Germany and onwards to Spain.

Arriving fresh and well-adjusted after an evening of sleep in the skies, navigating Madrid's Metro system was our first challenge of the day. Unusually, in both Barcelona nor in Madrid, the aeropuerto doesn't have a direct train line into the central city, and instead a series of changes between lines is required. Not such a big deal for an every day commuter, but lugging around our equally-as-globetrotting Samsonites through old subway stations is a cumbersome task after flying a considerable amount of time to get there. Alas, like the professional travellers that we are, we sucked it up, and finally trundled our way into the Vincci Vía 66 located in the heart of Madrid on Gran Vía.

Once we had established how to work the advanced in-room mood lighting and by using our novice phrasebook Spanish successfully dimmed the light glowing from our silver sequin mesh covered table-lamp (it was a very modern hotel room...), it was time to whip ourselves together in the personal hygiene department and begin our afternoon getting to grips with being a Madrileño.

With a Lonely Planet at the ready, a flimsy and easily torn paper map in hand, we set off to find Plaza Mayor, the central meeting spot in the busy summer days of Spain. Meeting place it was, summer it was not... A grand city square lined with magnificent buildings with balconys of symmetrical design provided a beautiful backdrop to the cafes and open spaces that this area offered to Madrid. Continuing on our walking tour of the city, we then visited Palacío Real de Madrid (The Royal Palace of Madrid) which no longer houses the Royal Family, but allows visitors the chance to get inside to ogle at the extravagant furnishings of the former palace.

That night we decided to be a little cultural and bought two tickets to a flamenco show at Corral de la Moreria, renowned as the home of flamenco in Madrid. The traditional dramatic dancing of the Andalusian Gypsies of Southern Spain, the foot stomping, hand clapping, sweat dripping performance was a fascinating display of talent, rhythm, guitar and warbling which got me thinking that there is no way I could ever be a Flamencan Superstar. The show didn't start until 10pm, and as the Spanairds are known for their late dining habits, we decided to snooze for a couple of hours before heading out for some tapas prior to the show. Beginning to get quite brave with our linguistic skills, we found a cute tapas bar near by to the flamenco show, and managed to order six different tapas for dinner which turned out to be six different types of cheese on toast. Spanish Mousetraps? Where did we go wrong? It wasn't so bad in the end... Dos cervezas por favor (two beers, please), and the toasty dinner was washed down and chalked up to history.

Madrid was a wonderful city. Perhaps more vibrant in the summer heat with the Madrileños enjoying the outdoors a lot more, but full of character and charm that makes me love Spain so much. Muchos Gracias, Madrid!

A Little Bit of Mussandam By My Side

2009-02-06T13:44:00.003+04:00

Oh man, Oman! Just at the northern boarder of the UAE is an enclave of Oman which sits on the Mussandam Peninsula, where, for some shame enducing reason, it has taken us three years to discover. 180km, 1hr 45m later, and you leave behind the headaches of Dubai, venturing past Sharjah, Ajman and Ras Al Khaimah (the northern emirates of the United Arab type), into the mystical and unknown land of Oman.

Crossing the boarder was painfree, evidently the Omani's like the New Zealanders more so than the Australians. Fergus was armed with his International Car Insurance, our passports were at the ready to be stamped by the Sultanate Omani folk, and before we could blink twice and whisper shukran habibi (thank you, dear) to the headscarved customs officers, we were waved through into this other country. Destination: Khasab.

Booked into Khasab's only hotel, the Golden Tulip was surprisingly comfortable for an area that has such limited access. One road in, and one road out, it truly is the end of the line on the Arabian Peninsula. Swimming straight across the water would have you washing up on the shores of Iran, and something lingers in my mind telling me that the shores of which we were stood were slightly more inviting. After driving for the afternoon from Dubai, we were quite happy to enjoy a couple of beers as the sun set, reflecting on the scenery we had surprisingly enjoyed on our journey north. Arabia, to us, is not a beautiful part of the world. Sand and arid rocky mountains (but certainly not the Rocky Mountains) don't naturally provide for stunning breathtaking vistas, however this coastal drive through Mussandam to Khasab may have provided a new light on this generalised view of ours.

Only staying for one night, we woke up early the next morning to find the wharf that our dhow was moored to, to begin the daytrip into the fjords. It was today that you could see the amazing change in the World's ecology over the past million years as what is now a hot, bleak, desolate desert, was clearly a land covered in ice. Fjords carved into the ocean by the glacial erosion make for a stunning backdrop, as we basked in glorious sunshine enjoying the dolphins jumping about in the blue waters.

We often admit to having 'Dubai Moments' when the frustrations of the Middle East break away and you actually enjoy a day in the sometimes very hectic emirate. It was extremely satisfying then to also admit to suffering from an 'Oman Moment' as well!

The Tower Arab Tea

2009-01-25T15:23:00.007+04:00

280 metres off the coast of Dubai's Jumeira Beach, 321 metres of hotel rises from the water on a manmade island that itself took three years to create. Another three years later, in 1999, and the "Hotel of the Millennium", the Burj Al Arab opened. Literally translated, The Tower Arab self-claims itself to surpass the internationally recognised 5-star hotel grading system, and provides itself the title of the Worlds Only 7-star Hotel. That is certainly a lot of stars and self praise! Only being allowed across the causeway onto the hotel's island if you hold a room booking or restaurant reservation, it has taken the very generous Christmas gift from our flatmate Toby of "The Ultimate Afternoon Tea" at the Burj, for us to finally get a glimpse of what happens inside that beautiful façade.

It requires a little bit of additional zjushing on the grooming front before entering the golden doors, so after getting the shirt and tie on unusually early in the day, we headed coastal in eagerness to see what all the fuss was about.

As Fergus was whisked away by the Valet Parking attendant, we were greeted by the doorman and ushered into the atrium of the hotel. We were inside! Aesthetically, from the outside, the Burj Al Arab is stunning. From the inside, a bullet should be given to the interior designer. How on Earth could such a landmark be ruined by the ghastly choices of internal decor? How can a hotel built just nine years ago be so out-dated? How did anybody approve a colour palate of vomitous proportions? Who even initiated the idea that gharishness wins over simplicity? We had heard that it would shock us, but I don't think either of us were quite ready for the hideous spectrum of colour that awaits!

With first impressions aside, we had seven courses of seven star afternoon tea to devour, and not a moment to waste in sampling the treats heading our way.

What we began to think was a severe case of portion-control, we are pleased that the first few courses were on the less generous side. By the time the final rounds of scones, pastries, creme brulee's and fudges came, we were about ready to explode. Specialty Teas, Burj-shaped Beef Wellington, Champagne, Clotted Cream and about 17 different types of sugar sachets, this is certainly a high tea to rival those of the most traditional establishments around the world. The only thing to let it down, despite the horrendous decor, was the Tunisian musical quartet that sounded remarkably like a strangled cat in the background. I know they are trying to place a cultural spin on a very British tradition... However, a Date-themed menu item may have been another way of providing an Arabian influence rather than with the sick moggy and a bongo drum.

All in all, we were very grateful for Toby's amazing gift. We can now say that we have been beyond the shores and onto the exclusive Burj Island, and can quite honestly say that I will never decorate my own house in the seven-star ways of this exclusive hotel!

Flight Attendant to the Stars

2009-01-04T18:47:00.003+04:00

Only one month after fussing the bajeevers over Alicia Keys, Mumma Keys and the affiliated travelling soiree of assistants, my very next New York flight I worked (bearing in mind, I had had three weeks off, and one London flight in the meantime), I arrived at JFK Terminal 4 in preparation for EK202 back to Dubai, to find out from our Ground Services staff that Beyoncé and her husband, Jay-Z, would be on board in First Class.

Self-proclaiming myself now as Emirates' First Class Celebrity Flight Attendant of Choice, I was honoured to be looking after the every need of Ms Knowles and Jay-Z, as they relaxed and enjoyed their journey on their holiday they were taking beyond Dubai.

Again, it against my professional capacity to divulge anything to you all here, but I am very happy to say that they are both incredibly humble, beautiful people, who appreciated the low-profile we provided them onboard. It would be a pleasure to have them back on a flight of mine, should they require my services into the future! Here's hoping! All the single ladies. All the single ladies. All the single ladies... Uh uh oh!....

Celebrities out there: I am sure you have heard through your a-list friends about me, so should you require me to assist you on a private jet in the future, be sure to let me know.

NYE: NYC

2009-01-02T10:07:00.004+04:00

The once in a lifetime opportunity to spend New Years Eve in Times Square, New York is one that you simply cannot say no to. Adrian and I were both rostered the same work trip together to New York, leaving Dubai at 08:30am on 31DEC, arriving into JFK that same afternoon. Despite having bid for a London flight together for NYE, to be both scheduled the same trip to Manhattan was a dream come true.

We hadn't worked together in nearly two years, and it was an absolute delight be off on this adventure to one of our favourite cities on the planet, however funnily, we had never been there at the same time.

With a tribe of 30 crew, a good percentage of them were also our close friends, we set off on the 13hr25m flight in a fit of laughter. Until we landed and were snap-frozen, like a hoki-fillet would be prior to being made into a Filet-o-Fish at McDonalds. -7deg Celsius, with snow flurries, and a windchill that would have made even the frostiest ice-queen cold. But it was New York. It was New Years Eve. And we wanted to party!

Central Manhattan has a lock-down at 5pm on NYE, meaning no cars can get through, and only pedestrians staying at hotels within the Times Square region can be on the streets. Thankfully our bus arrived at the crew hotel about 4:55pm, and so we werent forced to walk, in full uniform to the warm comforts of the hotel lobby!

Because it was going to be absolutely impossible to get anywhere remotely close to the Time Ball dropping in Times Sqaure, Adrian had managed to get a restaurant booking for this amazing little Mexican place called Arriba Arriba on 9th and 51st. They very graciously hosted our loud table of rabbling crew for a night which will take a long long time to forget. Nearly half of the crew came out, the others either had family in NY to see, or were simply too dead after the flight to see in the New Year, and opted for bed instead. However, Burrito's, Nachos, Guacamole and Margharita's were an amazing way to welcome in the year ahead. Fingers crossed though, that the year won't be spent hugging the toilet and feeling downright miserable, as unfortunately my First of January was spent.

May I wish you a wonderful 2009. Thank you for your support of The Flying Kiwi over 2008, and long may you receive everything you deserve in 2009 and beyond.

Aotearoa

2008-12-24T05:47:00.005+04:00

Pōkarekare ana,

Ngā wai o Rotorua,

Whiti atu koe hine,

Marino ana e.

With the sounds of New Zealand's secondary National Anthem (which I think would make a much nicer Official Tune of the Nation) rousing emotion and pride, after 12 months without a holiday at home, it was now time! With three weeks off work, it was time to gather our things and head back to New Zealand, for what was the longest holiday we have had in the three years we have been living in Dubai.

Arriving into Auckland on 05DEC after spending 19 very long hours in the sky, and drinking far too much along the way, we finally touched down in Aotearoa to glorious sunshine and summer fervour. We very luckily managed to wangle 5 days of additional days off prior to our official annual leave block, which required some frantic ticket rebooking, frantic shopping trips, and even more frantic suitcase packing. But for an afternoon of fast paced and not-entirely-stress-free organisation, it was well worth the extra time spent absorbing all things Kiwi, topping up the tanks with the real life.

After a night in AKL, to recover from the journey we continued down to Christchurch, my home city, to have some wonderful pre-Christmas catch-ups with as many friends as we could. Ice Creams in Sumner, Coffees in Cashmere, Wines in Merivale, our rental car Freddie (the Ford Focus, who we decided was Fergus' [our own Focus in DXB] cousin) proved a saviour in carrying us from one side of the city to the other, and back again.

Reefton was our next stop, which is in the back end of nowhere! Mum is currently living in this small west-coast town being a Dairy Farmer... As you do! Only 3½ hours drive from CHC, we arrived in the thriving village which, as a destination in itself, makes watching paint dry a very favourable pasttime. But we were here to see Mum, and enjoy the rural life that she has been enduring for the past 9 months. With a gaggle of baby calves to play with, Adrian and I were quite at home with them, nurturing them with the milk, which thankfully was milked from the Mumma Cows whilst we blissfully slept earlier in the morning. I admire Mum and what she has been going through on the farm, but being pooed on from every direction as she attaches the milking machine onto the bulging udders of these rather enormous beasts takes a lot of guts, and perfume at the end of the day.

We had an early Christmas with Mum, and brought her into the digital music age with an iPod Nano, which she now thinks is the bees knees. Here's hoping she has worked out how to activate the shuffle function, as the crash course in iPod capabilties was probably not long enough, in hindsight!

Up to Wellington next for a night to spend the weekend with my cousins Michelle and Carina, as well as finally meet my new (well, 18month old) baby cousin, Carina's son, Jayden. Coincidentally, my visit fell on the annual family Christmas reunion of my Aunty's family. It had been 9 years since I was last at one of their gatherings, and it was such a pleasure to be there to see everyone again, albeit sunburn-inducing as we played Badminton (badly) in the Kaitoke Valley sunshine.

The final stop in our epic journey to New Zealand was a week in Auckland and another early Christmas with Adrian's family. Perfect weather for wineries, barbeques, walking, and friends. The thing about being at home now is enjoying the smallest, simple things. Getting up at 6am and walking around the beaches in the morning sunshine, smelling the Jasmine in the gardens around the streets, hearing the birds. All things that, since not having them in Dubai, I miss so much!

It was a time of summer celebration. It was a time for family bonding. It was a time for being a Kiwi. And being proud of it.

E hine e

Hoki mai ra.

Ka mate ahau

I te aroha e.

A Series of VERY Fortunate Events

2008-12-02T13:59:00.005+04:00

After yet another layover in New York, where, yet again, I spent far too much money finishing off my Christmas shopping (as well as buying some presents for myself, naturally). After waking up at 03:50am local time and then pounding the pavements of Times Square and Fifth Avenue, it was time to make one final dash to Wholefoods Organic Food Market to buy my avocado's and bagels to take back to Dubai. Urgently in the search for something to warm myself up from the nippy New York air, Momma's Chicken and Rice soup was my absolute saviour from the hypothermic conditions in Manhattan. Oh, how the warm sunny days of Central Park just two months ago, are now but a distant memory.

Before I fell asleep on my feet, I scurried back to the hotel in preparation for a few hours sleep. Five hours later, the phone rings, with the delightful Monisha advising me it was my wake-up call. Really? Already?! Feeling a little on the feral side, I threw on my uniform and tizzed myself up, ready to serve the 14 First Class customers on the 12hr flight back to the UAE. We arrived in the crew bus at JFK airport seeing the swarms of people checking in for our flight, which is not the most unusual thing to see of an evening. It turned out, however, that Etihad Airways' (our direct competitor from Abu Dhabi) flight was cancelled when a catering truck had driven into the side of the plane ripping a big hole in the fuselage, therefore, causing millions of dollars worth of damage and a flight full of people without an aircraft to carry them in. Airlines around the world have an agreement whereby when something like this interrupts a passengers travel plans, they then get transferred to another airline with available seats, and that revenue then goes directly to the new carrier.

The Emirates Duty Manager took us to one side and explained the story to us. Advised us we would now be completely full as we had accepted some of the disrupted Etihad passengers, and that, in First Class, we would now be looking after Alicia Keys.

For her own privacy and my own professionalism, I am not going to go into any more details, though I will tell you she is an ABSOLUTE DELIGHT, whom I would be honoured to care for on future flights, if I were to be so lucky. Travelling with her entourage as well, we knew that she was on her way to perform in Abu Dhabi at a one-off concert with George Michael at Zayed Sports City. Throughout the flight after interacting with several members of her party, Miss Keys' manager asked me for my phone number, so that she could get in touch with me if she could find any tickets to the concert. I happily gave her my number, but to be honest, thought that nothing would come of it, so didn't get my hopes up too high. We landed, we said our goodbyes, and were thanked by Alicia et al for caring for them so well. Our brush with the high-life was over, but what an honour it was.

The next day, lunchtime had rolled around, when my phone started buzzing. Alicia's Manager was on the other end offering me tickets! I could not believe that this was actually happening! A little too good to be true, I felt, but Adrian and I got ourselves together (I was given a ticket for him too) and made the 90minute drive to Abu Dhabi, in the hope that the tickets were actually going to be at the box office like we were promised! There they were. Envelopes with our names on them. Inside: Diamond Class tickets (the exclusive VIP section worth Dhs1000, NZ$500) that got us just a few feet away from the front of the stage. We were at the Alicia Keys and George Michael concert, as special guests of one of the headlining artists!

Alicia began her performance at 20:30, and belted out her hits until 22:30. She had brought her Grand Piano with her, and she gave the best she could to the crowd of more than 10,000 people. Growing up in Spanish Harlem, the classically trained 27 year old starlet showed her full range and talents with every song she sang. Fallin', A Woman's Worth, Superwoman, No One, every song you could imagine from her 8 year recording career, all sung with perfection to rival any studio recording ever created. It was a very strange feeling, watching her on stage being the superstar that she is, just a metre away from me, when the night before I was having a conversation with her like she was a High School friend.

Act Two began after a complete destruction of Alicia's staging requirements, and the construction of the new set for George Michael to perform just 30minutes later. Not sure of exactly what format this event was going to take, we were very surprised to then discover an entire SECOND concert than began, lasting another 2 hours!

Dressed in his trademark all-black suit, with his equally signaturesque, functionally questionable glasses, he appeared on stage with Here I Am, followed by I'm Your Man. The crowd went wild as he moved as any Greek of the 1963 era would. After announcing in June 2008, that he would no longer tour the world, he appeared at the Zayed Sports City for a one-off concert that proved he really shouldn't be hanging up his microphone cord just yet. Sounding as if he were just reaching his performance prime, it should be noted that (seeing as I was SO close, I could see it myself) he had all of his lyrics on three autocue screens, to prompt him if he became a little forgetful! It should also be noted (seeing as I was SO close, I was following along myself) that he DID muddle up some of the words... Lets get some prescription lenses into those glasses of yours, George!

By the time the concert ended, it was four hours later, at 01:10am! To say I was then beginning to feel the jetlag from the night before's arrival from New York was an understatement! My legs wanted to buckle from beneath me, but this may have been caused by the wriggling and the jiggling as I tried to have Faith-a, Faith-a, Faith-A! Baby!

Never before have I felt so fortunate to have been in the right place at the right time, than when I was on that flight back from JFK. I guess it does make up for the flight that I was rostered but taken off (as I am involved with another project in the Service Delivery department now) the week before that had Kylie Minogue, Charlize Theron, Wesley Snipes and Gayle King on board. After the initial disappointment of hearing they were all on that one flight, I feel that karma has now come around and patted me on the back by allowing me to meet Alicia and then see her live in concert! May she have many years more of the success that she most certainly deserves.

I ♥ The World

2008-11-25T09:11:00.006+04:00

169 Cities. 56 Countries. I present to you, The World as travelled by The Flying Kiwi. Yes, there are loads of gaps still undiscovered. Some of these gaps, though, will remain undiscovered!

Russia to Brazil, Japan to Tanzania, Norway to Fiji. Sunny beaches to monsoonal floods, presidential elections to political coups, the journies are never dull!

It's time to put my feet up as the hours of jetlagged memories coming flooding back. However, long may the adventures continue in the years to come!

♫♪ ...On A Night Like This... ♪♫

2008-11-22T12:55:00.011+04:00

NOVEMBER 21, 2008

0859am: Day Off. Not entirely sure how the day will unfold.

0900am: Adrian calls EVITA to collect his roster changes for the following day; Day Off.

0901am: Two tickets confirmed for tonights Kylie X 2008 Tour.

1430pm: The champagne pre-festivities unfold...

The whispers had started about 5 months ago, The Princess of Pop, arguably Australia's most successful musical starlet; Kylie Minogue was coming to Dubai! The rumour mill had been working overtime, Kylie was apparently coming to open The Atlantis, Palm Jumeira (Dubai's flashy new $1b resort replica of the Carribean getaway) with a private concert for the whose who of the Celebritorial World. The rumour then went on that she would then perform a public concert, her first in the Middle East, the following night, for all of those people who weren't Lindsey Lohan (Lilo to her friends), Mischa Barton, or Shirley Bassey. As the stories like this in Dubai often turn out to be uncannily true, we were hoping that this one would also be fruitful in delivering the popstar goods. So she came, she opened Atlantis, and then she Wow Wow Wow Wow'ed the crowds at Dubai Festival City.

A gala event like this, in a place like Dubai, it was always going to be a night that every male cabin crew member in the company would be trying to get a day off to attend!! So with that in mind, we didn't want to commit to buying tickets until we knew we had the night, and the next day off as well! Every male hostie was there, as suspected, which made for a fantastic night of Kylie fabulosity!

We got our grubby mits onto the perceived 'poor-peoples' tickets, costing us Dhs395 each. The tickets ranged from Dhs1000 down to Dhs195, so we figured that we wouldn't have the worst veiw, but we wouldn't have the best view in the house either. The gates opened about 18:30, for the concert that began at 21:00. Of course not wanting to be at the back of our cheap-seat zone, we got there ahead of opening time, and managed to get to the front row of our section; about 10metres from the stage, right behind the lovely folk who paid nearly 3 times as much for their tickets. A-MAZING!

After what we can only assume was a fight with the taxi-driver over avoiding the Salik (toll) charges on the Garhoud Bridge, Kylie turned up 20 minutes late. Forgiven though, she stayed on stage, except for her 7½ quick costume changes, non-stop for TWO hours. She razzled us, she dazzled us, and along with her 10 über flexible dancing boys and girls (hello sailors...), her 5 musically minded acquaintances (the band), and her 2 supporting vocalists (much nicer than saying backup singers, don't you think?) the concert was worth EVERY dirty dirham that we spent, plus more.

In the western world, every concert goer knows that when an event has gone well, an encore is ALWAYS built in to the set-list. What can only be described as the STUPID Middle Eastern audience, clearly are not educated in this "first rule of mega-performances 101". Kylie, despite not singing some of her old-time essentials, said her goodnights and took her bows, and left the stage. The venue lights then stayed dim. The crowd went wild. KYLIE, KYLIE, KYLIEEEEEE. The fools of a certain aforementioned persuasion then packed up and left, thinking she had said goodbye and she was on her way home. Tally Ho then. Not my fault that they therefore missed out on a further 3 songs, that we all knew were coming, but they were too dim to realise. Too late, they were in their diamante encrusted Hummers on their way home. All the better for us to have one last boogie, and one last woogie. I SHOULD BE SO LUCKY, LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY!

I know she would have been tired, but she departed the very next morning enroute to Bangkok, First Class, of course... Enjoy her, Thailand! She rocks the banana-boat!

The Show Must Go On

2008-11-10T18:25:00.008+04:00

Travelling the world as International Cabin Crew has many perks. The opportunity to see every corner of the globe without having to pay for it, the good places, the not so good places, and the downright feral places. The opportunity to shop for needless items on every layover. Knowing exactly which deli in New York to go to get the best cream cheese in your bagel. Knowing exactly where to go in Hamburg to get the best winter woolies. Or where to find the best Sushi on offer in Sydney. For the culturally minded thespians amongst us, the opportunity to see live theatre around the world is also right on your doorstep. Over the last 12 months, I have been fortunate enough to have seen a plethora of the planets major musical offerings, which is just the tip of the iceberg for what I have seen in the past.

Priscilla: Queen of the Desert; Sydney, AUSTRALIA
Take one revolving pink bus, several lashings of feather boa, three diva's, a trio of men dressed as women and throw in a journey across outback Australia. Priscilla, based on the movie from the early 1990's, is hilarious. In one of the most original adaptations of a movie-to-musical performance, you can't help but be mesmorised by the colour, the costumes, the singing, the humour and the simple obsurdity of this show. At the Lyric Theatre in Sydney, I was so fortunate to stumble across a 2nd row ticket, which got me so close to the action that the infamous ping pong scene sore a little orange ball come flying right at my head!

Miss Saigon; Melbourne, AUSTRALIA

When the heat is on in Saigon, and there is a war going on, why not make a hit mega-production about it! The story of the American Soldier who falls in love with a Vietnamese prostitute, who produce a baby but are forced apart when the troops flee Saigon. Never expecting to see each other again, the soldier marries another woman back at home, and the triangular form of love ensues. Having known the music for a really long time via my 19 years of piano playing, I was so happy to finally see the Australian cast do absolute a stellar job at taking me on a journey to the town formerly known as Saigon. Unexpected twists at the end left me a little shocked, and humming the tunes all night long

Spamalot; New York, UNITED STATES

Monty Python on stage, in the musical version thereof, Spamalot was OK, but I can't say I was totally fulfilled by it. I also don't know whether my jetlag had played a part in my diminished enjoyment levels, but for an afternoon matinee spectacular, it was a bit of fun. In true Python form, Spamalot was full of humour, gags and chuckles, the songs were clever, witty and well perfomed. Starring Clay Aiken, from American Idol fame, I couldn't help but think of him as less of the Knight he was meant to be, but more the South Carolina popstar singing Bridge Over Troubled Water from his failed attempt to win the Idol Crown.

Mystere; Las Vegas, UNITED STATES

Cirque du Soleil. Treasure Island. Vegas. Outdoing everything, this is perhaps the most beautiful, inspiring, creative, and talented thing I have ever seen. The most magical costumes, haunting live music and vocals, acrobatic artistry and comedy rolled into a 2 hour performance of epic proportions. After securing 2nd row tickets, we were able to watch every detail of the artists tumble, bungee, contort, and do things I still maintain are humanly impossible. This was our first taste of the many Cirque productions out there. I really can't wait to see more!

Legally Blonde; New York, UNITED STATES

Pure, bottle blonde drivel! Unfortunately, as musical producers sometimes do, they take a relatively cute teen-movie, and turn it into a highly commercialised, over-acted, over-sung pink extravaganza geared toward the prepubescent female audience. They seemed to enjoy it, however, so I guess the target clientele are satisfied, but for this avid theatre-goer, I am happy to chalk that one up to being a memory best forgotten! Fun, but a little limp!

Mary Poppins; New York, UNITED STATES

Simply SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPELIDOCIOUS! Disney on Broadway's new production of Mary Poppins was just delightful. With the Banks' House recreated in its enormity on stage, and several new songs written just for the musical version, I saw this show with Bridget and Tracey from my crew, and my good friend Julie, a Purser from the other Emirates New York flight that was in town that day. After becoming a little intoxicated from the super-sipper sized vessel of red wine we consumed prior to the curtain going up, we thoroughly and genuinely enjoyed this show. And yes, it is true; a spoonful of sugar DOES help the medicine go down. In the most delightful way.

A Tale of Two Cities; New York, UNITED STATES

Originally a Charles Dickens' novel about an impossible love battle set in the revolutionary days in London and Paris, this show had been touted as the new Les Miserables. I tried so hard to not go into the show thinking of it like that, and allowed myself to enjoy it for its own individual merits, and that I thoroughly did. Not knowing any of the music, I was captivated by the songs, the staging, and particularly the snow-falling-in-parkland-Paris scene. Unfortunately the critics of Broadway didnt agree with Victoria, Miguel and I, and slated the production which has ultimately led to its demise just four months after it began playing.

On the horizon, with the A380 commencing flights to London from 01DEC, there will be so many more opportunities and more shows opening up to my eyes with the West End becoming in frequent reach. As you can see, in 2008 alone, it has been a busy theatrical year, and I can't wait to see what becomes of the rest of this year, and into 2009.

¡Viva, Barcelona!

2008-10-30T01:00:00.006+04:00

I had this perfect dream...

In the immortal words of Freddie Mercury's 1992 Olympic Games theme tune, I too had a perfect dream. I had a dream of one day visiting Spain, and it was a dream that finally came true last week. The immigration stamps of Barcelona appeared as quickly on our passport pages as the idea entered our heads while Adrian and I were on holiday in Norway. We had another 4 days off together, and not one to let that chance go to waste, we began brainstorming where we would like to go that was new. SPAIN.

This dream was me and you...

Adri arriving back from a Newcastle flight, and me having facilitated all day at Emirates Training College, we gathered our sturdy Samsonites together and rolled up for the KLM Royal Dutch Airlines flight to Amsterdam and onwards to Barcelona, and flew through the night until our Spanish destination, to begin an adventure of language, culture and food. Having studied Spanish for a year at High School, and since beginning a Berlitz Self-Help Language Course, I was a bit worried about exactly how well I was going to get by in this completely foreign land. After landing in Barthelona (as the locals call it) it was apparent that my attempts at learning their language weren't going to be the most useful of my lifetime endeavours, as it turned out the Barcelonites have their own sub-language, Catalan, which is nothing like Spanish at all. Thankfully, they could understand my humble skills to an extent, and I actually surprised myself at how much I was able to communicate along the way.

A miracle sensation, My guide and inspiration...

Sensory overload upon arrival, we checked into our accommodation. We had booked ourselves (via a Travel Industry, discounted hotel website) into this lovely modern beachfront hotel on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. Just a stones throw away from the golden sands of the ocean, we took ourselves on a late morning walk along the beach to enjoy the beautiful sunshine that Barcelona had provided us with. Happily strolling along, after successfully ordering "dos cafe con leche, por favor", (TRANSLATION FOR MUM: "two coffees with milk, please") we looked out along the beach to see people enjoying a game of beach tennis, families with their kids ambling about in the water, frisbee's being thrown along for long legged poodles to catch. It wasnt until we looked a little closer, and we realised the truth. We had in fact booked our hotel on... BARCELONA'S NUDIST BEACH. We can both honestly admit (despite Adrian trying to pass the blame onto me) that we had NO idea at the time, that we were booking into a hotel overlooking the Naturist's Beach for the over-80's of BCN!

Now my dream is slowly coming true...

After our inital clothing-optional shock, we exited, swiftly, stage right, into the depths of Selva del Mar underground Metro station and travelled by subway to the base of the hill on which we were to discover Parc Grüel, a Gaudi designed park for the regions rich and famous of yesteryear. Now a public recreational haven overlooking the entire city, with musical trio's playing the Spanish Guitar and Maracca's on every path corner, we lived the local dream and soaked up the culture and ambience of late summer bliss. Armed with our Lonely Planet: SPAIN, we guided ourselves about town to the Sagrada Familia, the unfinished Cathedral, which is still not completed after 100 years of construction. A fascinating structure, that is so oppulent and grand, with the most impressive Nativity Façade that made even me, the most disinterested church-goer, want to take a closer look.

The moment that you stepped into my room you took my breath away...

A walk along Las Ramblas, the world famous Pedestrian Boulevard of central Barcelona, took us, block after block, into so many different districts of urban España. The flower district, the busker district, the I-need-a-new-pet-iguana (et al) district... Every district you could imagine. Right next to the historic Gothic Quarter, we meandered amongst everyone selling their wares, things you possibly would never need, in amongst things you possibly could never do without. We took a side street off Las Ramblas into an open air Fresh Food Market, to discover where the locals do their grocery shopping of an afternoon. Fresher than fresh fruit and veges, seafood, and poultry requirements, in amongst feathered dead chickens, haired dead hares, and skinned lambs heads... Taking my breath away, literally, it was time to depart and head for food. Tapas (the typically Spanish way of ordering small, but plentiful and varied plates of different food) and Sangria was essential, as was at least one Paella while the Kiwi boys were in town.

And if God willing, we will meet again someday...

Having now had a taste of Spain, albeit a snapshot of the potential that this wonderful country has to offer, we have now booked our Annual Leave to discover more of what they have to offer. We are heading back at the end of May/beginning of June, this time to Madrid, the Costa del Sol (the Coast of the Sun in the South), and for a snippet of Portugal on the side, we have unleashed the Iberian dragon, and can't wait to see more of this Mediterranean sanctuary.

Friends until the end, ¡Viva: Barcelona!

Norway: NOW!

2008-10-18T23:07:00.005+04:00

Q: What will be certain to upset your biological rhythms more than a 14hour flight from New York to Dubai?

A: Working in Economy Class on a 14hour flight from New York to Dubai, then, jumping on another plethora of jet propelled journies to London and onwards to Oslo, finally ending up in Bergen over 30hours after setting off.

As Cabin Crew, we often do silly things. We often subject our bodies to stupid amounts of not-so-healthy cabin pressure. We often pickle our internal organs to within an inch of their once-very-capable lives. We do things that others look at and are convinced we are barking mad. Sometimes I look at myself and wonder the same thing. But few people can walk away at the end of a year and can cross off as many destinations on the World Map as what an International Flight Attendant can. No, our job is not glamorous at all. No, we don't get to be there for every Christmas and Birthday. No, it is not easy to smile at 03:47am when you have served the last Chicken Vindaloo and all you have left to offer is what is supposed to resemble Lamb Korma and you still have half a cabin of more-than-likely vegetarians to feed. But yes, we are very lucky to have the availability of strings of days off between duties, and access to ridiculously cheap air travel on virtually every airline around the world.

As part of my birthday present this year, I was treated, by Adrian, to a holiday in Scandanavian Paradise. Neither of us had ventured to home of the Vikings, and so it was decided that a mini-break to Nordic Norway was on the cards. However, to acheive this, I would have to endure the aforementioned travel plan above to be able to best utilise my available time.

Flying with Emirates to London, I met up with Adrian at Terminal 3. He had been lucky enough to have had one additional day off, and so had travelled earlier to stay with our great friends Nick and Seán who live just next to Windsor. Knowing that our chosen flights were 'wide open' (meaning that there were plenty of unbooked seats for standby staff travellers to use), I could be carefree knowing that our holiday wasn't going to be spent waiting around standby counters for the final moments hoping to be given a boarding pass. Connecting onto SAS (Scandanavian Air Systems) to Oslo and then to Bergen in Western Norway we arrived, a little jaded, but excited to begin our adventure in this Flying Kiwi's uncharted territory.

Bergen is Norway's 2nd largest city, and is an historic 15th Century fishing town at the bottom of the South Western Fjord region. It is home to a population of 231,000 people and these people fight for it to be honoured as Norway's most beautiful city. They wouldn't be considered wrong when they were telling the world that, yes, indeed, they do have a very lovely place to call home. The only issue that they have is that it rains, on average, for 275 days of the year. Upon arrival at the airport, we innocently headed over to the airport express bus service into the city, and began to load our bags into the compartment underneath for the luggage. Hilda*, the living viking bus driver, came barrelling out of the front seat, hurling all sorts of Norwegian profanities to a bewildered couple of fresh-off-the-boat (or plane) New Zealanders (us). We stood, looking at each other in shock, a little amused, wondering why we were being abused, for what may have only been because she had lost 30 seconds (at the most) from her scheduled time of departure of 16:00:00. Not understanding a word of what she said, we took our seats, and became hysterical over what had just happened.

Before it got too dark, we walked out into the Autumn evening and began to explore the harbourfront area, on what was one of these 275 days of rain. Not one to moan about bad weather these days, we actually quite enjoy having some variation to the hot, hot and hotter mundane climate of the Middle East. To be honest, the rain came and went, and the dry patches in between, far outwayed the wet spells in the middle. Being that we were in such a prime fishing location, the opportunity to try some of the location cuisine was too good to miss, and so among other things, the Mussels in White Wine Sauce were a-mazing!

Early to rise the next morning, we weren't about to miss the train to begin our next big day of travelling. Bergen back to Oslo, via Voss to a boat to cruise along Sognefjord to Flåm. Next, back on the Flåmsbana vintage railway to Myrdal, considered to be one of the Top Ten Great Rail Journies in the World, and then finally arriving into Oslo at 22:30 that night. Despite the cooler temperatures of autumn, it is one of the most spectular times of year to visit a foreign place. The most brilliant range of colours rise across the mountainsides of trees, creating a sensory overload for this boy who is so used to the beige on beige of sandpit living. Cruising along Sognefjord reminded me so much of being in New Zealand's own Fjordland in the South Island. Huge gashes of the Earths surface from the Ice Ages have created rugged and severe water-filled inlets which only imagination can describe. Feeling approximately 1/7th of the age of most of the other Asian travellers on the boat, we downed a couple of hot drinks to rewarm ourselves up from the bitter wind off the nearby snowcovered peaks coming down through the Fjords.

Oslo itself we got to see in a nutshell. Literally. We had a morning to discover what the Norwegian Capital had to offer, so a couple of tramrides and a few hundred steps of walking, we discovered the almost erotic bronze statues that lined the bridges through Frognerparken. Life sized carvings of people doing all sorts of sordid things is quite the drawcard, evidently, as we strolled through listening to old Japanese ladies giggle over public displays of male anatomy. A quick walk back up through downtown Oslo to our hotel, and our Nordic adventure had come to an end. Despite our initial brush with our fiesty Bergen Bus Driver, this was a fabulous journey to an unknown land, and hope one day to visit again, including the other Scandanavian Countries that we are now both very eager to see; Denmark and Sweden.

*name has been changed to protect Hilda's personal well-being

Uniquely Yemen

2008-10-09T08:32:00.004+04:00

Four days ago, the plans were different. The plans were to spend even more of my days off lazing around in Dubai. The plan was to enjoy the sun, enjoy the post-ramadanal bliss of being able to eat and drink in public again. The plan was to certainly not visit the home of kidnapping, terror, and embassy bombings. Four days ago, I was beginning to enjoy these said plans at the pool with Miguel, my very good friend from Portugal, who, having the same days off as me, mentioned that he was going to Yemen to explore the worlds oldest continuously inhabited city, Sana'a.

Sana'a (or صنعاء for your linguistical types) was first built in 200BC and is now listed as a World Heritage Site, protected by UNESCO. It is the capital city of Yemen, and home to over 2 million people. It is situated 2,200m above sea level and is a photojournalists dream setting for images to send straight to National Geographic. Being of the photographical persuasion myself, I was able to capture some amazing happy-snaps to add to my bulging collection of World Explorations.

Miguel had wanted to visit Yemen for many years , after reading a book back in the early 90's about a woman and her daughters who got captured there. I guess, not hoping for the same misfortune himself, the book must have instead captured his imagination and his desire to visit outwayed the recent unsettled times in this city on the Arabian Peninsula. Sick of spending so much time in the UAE on my own days off (being stuck on the ground because of my surgery has meant I have not been able to use all of my recent days off to their full potential), and knowing that Adrian had no desire to explore this region, I decided to join Miguel in the adventure of a world I would never imagine coming to had I not been living in the Middle East. Never would I have thought to go there myself, if it wasn't for the Portuguese Explorer, I would still be none the wiser!

Once we had arrived in Sana'a, the realisation that this was a country full of the friendliest Arab people you could imagine, made me feel a little sad that the rest of the world would never experience their hospitality and kindness due to the small number of extremists who cause every Travel Advisory to scream at you not to visit. Not to say that we became nonchalant about our personal safety while we were there, we definately didn't feel that we had thrown ourselves into a melting pot of disaster either.

We checked into the Burj Al Salam Hotel, a newly converted 8 storey historic building in Old Sana'a, and of course, me being me, managed to straight away, lock us inside our room. Miguel doubled over in fits of laughter at the thought I had in fact kidnapped us in our own hotel room, I explained that this was perhaps going to be the first of several minor mishaps (they are always only ever minor mishaps) caused by me along the way. Unsure of exactly how I locked us in, we began banging on the door to alert housekeeping we were stuck! Thankfully it was only 10 minutes of lost time before the Intrepid Journey really began, but it was decided that from now on Miguel would be in charge of the key!

The Lonely Planet guidebook explains that Old Sana'a is best explored by foot (which was a relief as we refused to hop in a taxi that was driven by an 11 year old boy, who couldnt actually reach the pedals without standing off the seat). We also read that you should meander among the souqs (markets) and get lost in the streets to really experience the Yemeni way of life. No guidebook needs to tell me to get lost, as despite my best instincts, I usually need no assistance in finding the wrong way around a city! As always though, I am quite happy to blame the map we were given. I am not sure why they bothered to create one, it didnt have any street names, it had approximately TWO landmarks that we could recognise, and in the middle, a jumble of lanes and alleyways that not even the locals could pinpoint where we were!

We watched gaggles of abaya's (the black veiled women) haggle over the best of the honey coated Dates. We watched solitary men try to sell us their finest Jimbaya (the Arabian hooked dagger that is tucked into their belt, used for traditional dancing and decoration). We watched the cheekiest children play in the streets; these same children who then invited us to play darts with them on the side of the road.

The following day we journied into the nearby mountain areas to experience the village life of these people. Already altitudinally very high in Sana'a, the altimeter peaked at 3,000m above sea level in the village of Kawkaban. If you are not sure of the effects this has on your body, climb to the top of Mt Cook in New Zealand, which is only 700m higher than where we were in Yemen. It is by no means the highest area in the world, but difficult to take a deep breath all the same! We visited Wadi Dhahr to the Imam's Palace (the religious leader) which is perched on top of a rock like a black and white mushroom. We walked around the old Yemeni Jewish village of Thula, which still housed these people until they were kicked out of the country by Islamic tribes in 2007. We ate lunch (a term to be used very loosely) at a Tourist House in Shabam which consisted of bowls of local delights. Potatoes with rice, yum. Vegatables with rice, yum. Buckwheat and Chive cold omelette, not so yum. Lamb shins snapped to expose the bone marrow and then boiled in a big pot, wrong.com!

Our Uniquely Yemen adventure was amazing. It was spontaneous, a little risky, but overall one of the most wonderful experiences I could have imagined. Being able to explore with Miguel was certainly a highlight which proved constantly hilarious and I am grateful for his insistance that he wanted to go despite all the signs pointing otherwise. Rest assured though, I have drawn the line at Yemen on the terror-o-meter. The Flying Kiwi has no plans on a trip to Iraq, Saudi Arabia or Afghanistan, however I won't say no to visiting other places in the Middle East if the opportunity came up!

The Boy With New Legs

2008-09-25T15:14:00.003+04:00

EVLT: Endovenous Laser Therapy. The reason I have not been blogging for the past month! To my global followers, I apologise for my lack of posting, for I have been on the quest and have found my newly improved lower limbs: My varicose-vein-free legs!

After a four hour operation to close the veins with a laser through my ankles and then remove them via hooked needles from the sides of my calves, I have been sporting a lovely pair of nude-coloured compression stockings, waiting for the past 3 weeks to pass before being unleashed on the world once more. Having to keep off my legs for as much as possible has been a huge challenge for me, but watch out, The Flying Kiwi is back, with pretty new vein free legs, with a rather exciting birthday month ahead. This boy needs to rejoice in the Dhs45,000 (NZ$16,600) that he didnt have to pay from his own pocket and thank everyone at the EK Medical Insurance Department for finally agreeing to cover my surgery!

So keep checking back, the updates will begin once more! You can clip my wings, but only temporarily!

The Nether Regions of the Netherlands

2008-08-29T02:31:00.000+04:00

Early mornings and I. We used to get on relatively well in the past, but on the back end of the past few years, I have slowly weakened to the pressure of comfort under the sheets! Alas, Dijk, my bike (or, seeing as I'm so Dutch these days, my bijk) had plans for me, which involved pedalling over far too many bridges for that time of the morning, and finding myself a streetside cafe for breakfast that didn't involve Magic Mushroom Omelette and Hash Browns that consisted of a little less Hash and a little more Browns!

Having nourished my gurgling stomach, before having to take Dijk back to his home, I took myself on a ride to the outer city limits and found some beautiful canals, flowers everywhere, with houseboats moored to the walls. A hippies dream come true, these floating homes would provide any nautical-slash-natural enthusiast with a palace to be proud of. I can't be sure of the plumbing system, though. I can't be certain that ones Number Two's dont flow directly into the murky water beneath. What I do know, is I probably wouldn't take myself swimming in these said waters.

Wanting to see a bit more of Holland than what Central Amsterdam could provide, I booked myself on a halfday tour to the Nether Regions of the Netherlands. Heading to the province of North Holland, we strolled around the historic fishervillage of Marken. Originally an island in the middle of the sea, the canny Dutch built a Dijk (a real one this time, and not my good bicyclical friend) and closed off the sea to form a freshwater lake, and built a road to Marken, to make it more a peninsula, than your isle of yesteryear. All of the houses were built in the 18th Century, and with not a level wall in sight, it was interesting to see the traditional homes and gardens with people living in them the way they most probably didn't back in the day.

A halfhour boat journey over to Volendam, on the opposite side of the lake and here, again, we ambled about the meandering alleys and lanes, taking in what the Dutch-folk had to offer in their highly commercialised tourist village. Here though, my biggest concern was finding postage stamps, which apparently, is a lot easier said than done. With my postal needs finally satisfied, I was happily able to rest easy and continue on my way. Next stop: WINDMILL!

Only seeing one windmill while I was in Holland was a little bit disappointing, but if the truth be told, once I had seen it, I can probably safely say that the others around the place will most likely have looked pretty similar! Used to help pump water out of the land and back to sea, they are actually more functional than the decoration that I thought they had now become. With most of the country nearly 2 metres below sea level, they still use the mills to try to balance their water issues. I also have a sneaky suspicion that electric pumps might also be in use, but probably not quite so high on the touristic agenda!

Clogs and Cheese were up next, which funnily enough were both produced at the same place! The old wooden shoe of days gone are still produced, and more surprisingly, still worn by farmers. Evidently they are very waterproof. As are gumboots, but lets not go there... The home of Edam and Gouda Cheese, I was in dairy heaven as the curds and whey produced the most divine selection of cheeses, which of course I had to sample.

After a few frantic SMS's, phonecalls and itinerary changes, the next morning saw Adrian (who was still back in Dubai) pulled out from standby for a flight to Hamburg in Germany. Seeing as I still had several days before I had to be back in Dubai for work myself, I organised a staff ticket on KLM from Amsterdam to Hamburg, to meet up with Adrian to enjoy his layover with him. HAM is one of our favourite destinations, and to both have the unexpected oppotunity to be there together was so nice. Lots of Weißbeir and a gourmet Pork Steak, a lovely bottle of Champagne, and a surprising incident with an alkoholfrei beir, we were very content and happy with the end to a wonderful European mini-break.

Next up, I have 6 days in New York, on a work trip... Shannigans aplenty, I can already hear my Manhattan toilet bowl screaming as I resurrect the night before's beverages for a 'second tasting'. No promises, but I certainly have lots of plans for my week ahead in the Big Apple!