Saturday 20 December 2014

Saturday 20th December 2014

Tuesday.

I am writing this on Saturday morning. From here, Tuesday seems a lifetime ago. The reason for that will become clear as I write this post, but I have done a bit of travelling this week, almost as much as I have done through the year, except that week I went to China.

Friday was a day of work, rather than travelling, so up at the crack of dawn, I set the alarm, but the rattling of freight trans had woken me though the night, I look at the phone and I see it it is quarter to six. Time to think about getting up. THe time for getting up would be closer to half six, as it happens. I lay in bed, listening to the trains, and watch as lights play on the wall opposite to the balcony door.

I meet Anni for breakfast at half seven, as usual its fruit, yoghurt and a roll with nuttella. And coffee. Lots of coffee. With extra coffee.

It should be a simple drive to the factory, a couple of miles through the town, dodging trams and parked cars. The sat nav takes us through residential areas, wondering whether we were in the right place, but the other side of the junction, I see a factory. Looks like the right place. Turns out it was harder to get in than Fort Knox, after filling out endless paperwork, showing our cards, we have to wait in a plain room. Once our host arrives, we walk apparently round the entire factory to the meeting room.

And so the day begins.

As the day passes, my back begins to ache, I mean really ache, hurting in fact. Even sitting is painful. I struggle though. Being the little trooper I am.

Back at the hotel, I take drugs, and then meet our hosts for dinner in the restaurant below. It is all very nice, I have steak and beer. We talk and talk, and many of us swap stories about the more remote areas of the world we have visited, and the strange food we have eaten. There was talk of whisky, but I knew that would be a bad idea, I make my excuses and head back to my room and a chance to stretch out on the bed.

Wednesday.

Another day of travel.

I say a day of travel, our flight is not until five to four, which means having to kill five hours after we have to leave the hotel at eleven. Despite being able to lay in bed until eight, I am awake before seven woken by the sound of freight trains once again, long before they can be seen passing through the station outside my window. I look out, and the city is waking up, but the only sound is from the railway.

We meet for breakfast again, but our quiet breakfast is spoiled by a Pole on the next table who slurps his tea very loudly, then takes a phone call and talks even louder. How rude.

Back in my room, I pack and catch up on work. IBy ten I can hear the cleaner in the room next door, so I decide to check out, load the car, and then wait for Anni. Time passes so slowly. Anni comes down just before eleven, she checks out, we load the car, program the sat nav and set off through Witten to the motorway and onto Dusseldorf. Driving on the autobahn is terrifying, cars hurtle by in the rain at what seems over 100mph. We are not in a hurry, we settle in behind a lorry and we make our way to the airport.

Finding the car hire return was hard, but we do make our way to the parking haus, round and round up the spiral ramp we go. No problem in dropping the car off, we sign a form and are free to go.

Dusseldorf Flughafen

Despite being more than four hours before the flight, we are able to drop our bags off and go through security. The airport is quite small, and apart from reading, checking for mails or people watching there is little to do. We have lunch, and then sit by the gate where we wait next to an elderly American couple, who are on the way to meet their son. Everything about the airport is amazing to them, the tiny planes, that we are travelling by bus to the plane. She is also doting on the pictures of little Prince George which were published: I tried to sell Price George to them on a buy one get the rest for free offer, but she is not impressed. All babies are cute, even poor ones. She makes a disparaging remark about Obama, so I say I'm going for a walk and don't go back.

Dusseldorf Flughafen

The afternoon crawls by, we break up the boredom with some window shopping, and going for a coffee in an Italian place. Our flight is called, so we go to the gate and we are allowed on board. As is usual, larger hand luggae is not allowed on, but will be put in the hold but able to be collected as we leave the plane at the end of the flight. Another thing for our American friends find amazing, as to them their prized possessions have been taken from them.

The flight last for an hour, it is dark and raining by the time we land in Stuttgart. Once again there is no problem in getting the hire car, we walk to the parking garage, program the sat nave: 15 minutes it says. But we had seen the traffic as we came in to land, it looked crazy out there. As it was. Traffic was dreadful, but we make steady progress, and for the most part, people are patient, there is little crazy driving, and after a few miles, traffic speeds up and we make the junction, and from there it is a couple of miles to our hotel, or gasthaus. We are expecting something like a Danish Kro, or British pub, and indeed turns out half the place is like that, but the hotel itself is a new build, and the rooms are wonderful. And Anni and myself are given the two suits on the second floor, both rooms are on two levels, with a separate living room, huge bed, black marble bathroom. I open my case and my shabby clothes spring out.

That evening we have huge bowls of soup, a local speciality, which is filling.

All very nice, and so is the thought that once last day tomorrow, and not only is it Christmas for me, but that marks the final contractual audit with the customer, and all done with only minor issues. A pleasant thought.

2 comments:

nztony said...

" I open my case and my shabby clothes spring out."
But at least the case they sprung from wasn't shabby. (I remember how much you paid of it ;-) )
And that is not a dig - I just bought my Christmas present for myself, a second hand tent, that if people knew how much it cost, they'd "tut tut" at me.

jelltex said...

I think I can say that the baggage handlers of Europe are trying to break my case in record times, judging by the scratches and dents on it. All labels and address cards on it were lost on my last trip to Germany.

Money well spent so far though!