Europe 2013: Waitin' for a Plane

September 18, 2013

It's only technically the 18th right now: it's 2:20 in the morning, so this is really the entry which covers the 17th, mostly.

The days are blurring a bit. I'm pretty sure it was only this morning that I got off a ferry from Cherbourg to Rosslare. But that means this has been a *really* long day.

Let's run with the assumption that that's right. That means that this morning around 11:30 I bade farewell to Hannah, the woman I was chatting with last night. My last sight of her was with a sign in her hand sitting on the 7th deck of the ferry (where lots of people were congregating) which read, "Country roads take me home/to the land where I belong/West Virginia" with the Virginia crossed out, and Belfast written in bold letters next to it: she was trying to find a ride to Belfast. Next time I came past, she and her stuff were gone, so I assume she found a ride.

I exited the ferry (late, as usual, having too much stuff to get ready and make secure) to a wonderful steady Irish drizzle. Obviously just what I'd wanted. But I made it past the passport inspection with a barely-suppressed yawn on their part, and was quickly on my way. Ireland spiced up the raining-on-Ian game with some periods of dry, including some actual sunlight to keep things real.

The clouds in Ireland are either way bigger than they are in France, or way closer. But the clouds as I rode along were *huge*, giant masses of vapor that looked so close I could nearly reach out and touch them. The clouds in France, even at their most aggressive, were very high and aloof.

The ride itself was unremarkable but for one thing: I was on a last-minute candy search. I realized that I had almost completely neglected my task of collecting awesome chocolate, so I was on the lookout for grocery stores. I spotted an Aldi and stopped in, but they only had their house brand chocolate. I grabbed some anyway, because you never know.

When I stopped for gas, I spotted some multi-packs that were reasonably priced and grabbed a few. Today was a series of "lasts:" last gas fill-up, last moderately annoyed readjustment of luggage as it listed over to one side, last teetering curve through a roundabout (the new tires, even once scrubbed in, still had that teetering feeling, which will probably only go away with about 1500 km of riding -- I didn't even make it to 250). It was also the last time I'll ever see this bike, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was mostly on the N25 from Rosslare to Cork, with one notable diversion when a toll booth sign popped up: I'd told the GPS to avoid toll roads, so it neatly diverted me around the booth and popped me back onto the road once it was past. It's nice when it works.

I found my way to the Mace store where, one million years ago, I bought myself a sandwich after walking far too great a distance trying to find a motor factors so I could install my schmancy USB power gizmo. They had a goodly display of Cadbury bars, which was my goal, and I made a noticeable dent in their supply. I probably should have gotten more, but that's how things work out sometimes. As it was, I spent just over 22 euros, and came away with a bulging sack.

Then it was onward to Motofeirme. I had tried to locate the GPS waypoint I recorded when I was on the ferry, but it wasn't there. I'm not sure how it could have gone away, but I'm pretty annoyed that it did -- waypoints should not disappear. It's just possible that the tank bag bobbling against the GPS on the Nuerburgring could have erased it, so I'm not too absolutely upset at Garmin, but it was still annoying. Fortunately, I remembered the path the taxi had taken, and was there without missing a turn.

I arrived to find Joe, another Australian I hadn't met before, at the trailer. We talked a bit, and I broke out the loaf of brown bread I'd picked up in France, along with the mini camembert and the tomatoes (which ended up being completely superfluous: Martin had a bumper crop of cherry tomatoes off the vine, and we feasted like tomato kings). Joe was appreciative of the feast. We traded stories.

Martin called, and asked Joe to come down and help finish up some task he was working on a short distance down the road, so Joe pulled on his boots (his riding boots, since everything else was packed) and toddled off. A few minutes after he left, Berndt showed up. He was an American in the middle of a tour, who just happened to be in the area and decided to drop in. Of course no one was in, so he chatted with me for a bit.

All this social time was awesome, but I had *stuff* to *do*. I had already sent off a variety of clean-up emails from the Great Cello Customs Fee Incident (now completely resolved, fortunately, with the cello safely delivered), but I had to pack, I had to clean up the bike and photograph it for the classified ad, and I had to have a moment to figure out what I was missing.

Fortunately, I hope, the answer is "nothing." I don't think I missed anything, I think I've got everything packed, I think I'm ready to go. I'd better be, I'm sitting at the Dublin airport, and it's far too late to do anything else at Motofeirme.

I was going to get myself onto Seattle time right away, but the beginning of the flight will happen right around 1:30 am Seattle time, so that pretty much nixes me attempting to get a good "night's" sleep. If you've been following along at home, you'll recall that two nights ago, I was fighting a flying tent on the beaches of Normandy, and one night ago I was so cold I zipped myself into my riding suit on the floor of a ferry's bucking deck before I finally fell asleep at 3:30 in the morning. Tonight (should it be considered a night) will most likely see me snatch an hour or two of sleep at most, reclining uncomfortably on the flat metal chairs outside the Aer Lingus check-in area. I got maybe an hour combined sleep on the bus ride, between sending emails thinking that might be my last internet access before home. In other words, you're looking at one tired Ian right now, although I'm oddly alert considering the hour.

I tried to check myself in to the flight, but the little automatic kiosk says it's too early. No shock, there are no Aer Lingus folks around, so I would have to sit around uncomfortably anyway until I could check my voluminous baggage.

Thinking back on the last few hours, I have to say that the motorcycle I picked was a pretty good choice. I would have preferred a newer model, and obviously the seat left something to be desired, but for 1900 euros, I managed to get a bike which only needed the expected maintenance, never broke down, never had any real problems to speak of. Of course it wasn't perfect, with the missing problem in the rain, but I kind of think that was a problem caused by Martin's mechanic, who may not have re-seated the air filter system properly when replacing the filter. If it were seated poorly, that could explain how rain could sneak in, but only when moving. Still, even with that, it certainly never left me stranded, and I'd figured I'd spent at least one day waiting patiently at a shop in the middle of nowhere as some bizarre problem was rectified.

I ended up bringing some stuff that was pretty superfluous, and I wouldn't bring it again. I'll have to think about that as I unpack, since the only example I can think of right now is the fork and spoon I brought along. Really only necessary if I'd also had a proper dish and a stove, which I did not. One thing I know I wish I had was a stiff chopping block. I brought a wafer-thin one, and it was completely useless, since I only had a solid surface on which to use it once or twice. A stiff one could have also doubled as a kneeboard for the folding keyboard I'm typing on now, which would have been very useful.

Another important thing I learned is to not schedule a trip that falls this late in the season. Sure, I got some good empty campgrounds, but at the expense of cold, rainy weather and a certain amount of annoyance. Or, if I'm going to do something this late again, I need to work out better waterproofing systems for myself. My gear was all fine, but the suit, boots and gloves were a disaster in anything more than a brief shower.

I think it's time to see how comfortable I can be either on one of these benches, or on the floor. Probably not very, but sleep sounds mighty inviting.

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I did in fact end up sleeping for about an hour, at a guess, but it wasn't very comfortable, and wasn't a particularly deep sleep. I got fascinated by the cool-looking elevators at one point, and played with long-exposure shots of them moving. I never got quite the shot I wanted (of all three cars moving at once) since the one time I was ready and they moved like I wanted, there was a huge gaggle of people parked right in front of me. I personally blame Dublin airport personnel.

The kiosk finally let me check in around 6:45, and there followed the most confusing process I've experienced on a flight in quite a while.

The boarding pass, the person checking my bags was careful to point out, said that the gate closed at 9:40 (flight was at 11:25, so this was a bit perplexing to start with, but I wasn't really alert enough to ask follow-up questions). So I made my way as quickly as I could toward the US Customs Pre-screening, which was a new thing to me. Before I got there, I realized that I wanted to talk to one of the tax-free folks about my cello, since I couldn't have it physically with me to get the customs stamp, which would be the easiest way to deal with getting the VAT back. I finally located the desk, on the far side of security.

So, through security I went, and it was relatively painless at 7:20 in the morning on a Wednesday, I must say. Interesting side-note: the airport really "woke up" around 4 am. Suddenly there were people manning the counters, and the number of people walking around increased dramatically. Weird things you notice when you're trying to nap on the cold stone floor of Dublin International.

The tax-free desk person wasn't much help, since they didn't directly represent the actual firm the violin shop was going through, and her advice was just to photocopy everything, and send it from home. Sound advice, and the easiest possible choice. Done. I was about to head through to the Customs pre-clearance thing when I noticed the sign that said, "Limited shops and restaurants beyond this point" and realized that I wanted to eat something. Back I went, and had a bagel served to me by the most picture-perfect Irish red-headed lass I've ever seen in person.

It was only then that I realized I didn't actually know what gate I was aiming for, and finally looked up at a departure board. "Please wait this area," it said, somewhat cryptically. It continued to say this until 9:30, which made me fairly unhappy, what with the gate closing at 9:40. But I plunged in.

The pre-clearance process was painless, basically US Customs, but on the European side. I actually thought it worked quite well, and I support it, since it means that quick connecting flights in Chicaco would be much easier to make. I have hours, so it's not a big deal, but still.

Then came the confusing and annoying part: we had to go through security *again*. It wasn't clear until you were right upon the conveyor belts that this was shoes, laptops and duty free bags only, and not a full metal detector all over again. I asked one of the Aer Lingus reps what that was all about, and she more or less shrugged and said the US made them do it. I have no doubt. The TSA flexing their increasingly ridiculous muscles wherever they can.

Then it was through and to the waiting area (the Aer Lingus rep also said people have been complaining about the "gate closes" phrasing for two years, but it's never been changed -- my confusion is very common). And the beginning of the new theme for the trip: There Are No Power Outlets Anywhere Ever in Airports (or TANPOAEA in case I have to refer to it again). The tablet had received a brief (like, 5 minute) charge just before the gate listing changed to Customs pre-clearance, when I spotted a well-hidden outlet next to a store facade. That would be the last outlet I'd see for the rest of the trip (at a guess: I'm sitting in Chicago right now, but I don't imagine I'll see one until I get home). The tablet claims 34% battery right now, so this update may get abruptly stopped and resumed at some point.

In addition to the whole "no sleep" thing, I've become increasingly aware that it's been three days since I had a shower, and three days since I changed my clothes. I don't smell atrociously or anything, but let's say I'll be *really* happy when I get home and can take a shower. I think my last shower was the campground before the one at the beach, with all the wind. I'm honestly not sure now.

Anyway, the flight was unremarkable, and fortunately my seating neighbor was a very agreeable young man, and we ended up talking about a variety of things through the flight, including sporting stadiums, Iron Man 3 (which I watched, and found a bit contemplative and "unrealistic" within the rules of the universe), work, college, what we were doing in Ireland, etc. He was there to visit his girlfriend, who's doing some kind of law degree that includes a year in Dublin, and he managed to swing a month in Ireland. It's a pity he wasn't physically smaller (he being a fit 6' man at minimum, so shoulder width was the main issue), but otherwise, a very pleasant neighbor to have.

I watched a bunch of videos trying to pass the time, and resolved that I would stay awake until I got home. We'll see if I can actually stick to this resolution. I can feel the grit behind my eyes now, and have been feeling it for about 5 hours. I think the process of travelling may be engaging enough that I can do it, though. I still fell asleep for a short while on the plane from Dublin, but that was a mere catnap.

It is, I must say, weird to be back on American soil. I was immediately annoyed at the TSA and their imperious attitude. I was immediately bored with the plain, single-size green money, and was actually surprised at receiving a dollar bill in change. There are 1 and 2 euro coins, with the smallest bill being a 5 euro bill. It's a much more sensible system, to my mind, although I can't really explain why I like it just at the moment.

My first meal back on US soil was pizza, because I'm in Chicago, even if it is terrible airport cardboard overpriced pizza. My layover, at 4 hours long, is just short enough that I'm not comfortable with the idea of trying to take the train into Chicago. This also means that my only contact with Carrie this time through will be by phone, but these things can't always work out so perfectly.

So now I'm camped out at my gate, generally lamenting the lack of mains power to charge the tablet. It's not the end of the world, it's just one of those things that I'm shocked more airports haven't worked to address. Obviously budgets are tight, and it's probably a low priority.

I'm excited to be so comparatively close to home. Only two time zones to go! Then a spendy taxi ride, and I'm home. Home which I vaguely recall I worked hard to clean, with no clutter anywhere, and clean sheets on the bed, and sleeping in that bed is going to be SO AWESOME. Then tomorrow I can go get my cello from the UPS store (and all the junk mail they've been collecting for me, of course), and generally try to beat back jetlag as successfully as I did upon hitting Ireland.

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Aaaand we're sitting on the ground. There are thunderstorms above the airport as well as to the west and north, and all the airplanes are shutting down their engines to wait out the storms. It's going to be a while. There are spectacular flashes outside the window, although I'm sitting on an aisle row, so my view is very limited.

The captain has thoughtfully allowed us to listen in on his com radio, so I've had my first taste of what a thunderstorm sounds like on the radio at a major airport: the first airplane declining to take off, then the radio silence as everyone shuts down to save fuel.

It must be an impressive site from above: dozens of huge airplanes sitting perfectly still, waiting for Mother Nature to move her deadly weather away from the flight path -- the recommendation from my flight training days is to not fly within 20 lateral miles of a thunderstorm, although I think many airlines will brave a much smaller margin.

Staying awake is starting to become a challenge. We'll see how long I last.

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I am home.

Coming back into Seattle was really weird. The whole European trip suddenly seemed like a dream that I'd had, and not like a place I'd just been less than 24 hours ago. I can tell I need to shower and change my clothes, but it's only with a powerful sense of unreality that I can connect these facts with battling a bucking tent in coastal France, or avoiding dinner on the decks of a heaving ferry to Ireland.

This is exactly why I spent so much of this trip writing. I hope that I've managed to capture and encode those memories such that they're much more accessible, and not just a blur of, "Well, I know I did a lot of camping..." when I go to think about it again.

I got home at 10:20 or so, and assuming my fuzzy brain-math is right, that means that almost exactly 24 hours ago, I was checking in to my Aer Lingus flight in the Dublin airport. It's a strange thought.

Now, to do the two most important things in the world: shower, and sleep. I'll have more to say later.

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Created by Ian Johnston. Questions? Please mail me at reaper at obairlann dot net.