A Travel Story

I went to Korea.

(I can't tell you how tempted I was to leave the post at that. But that would be unfair to the requests, nay demands, for a Princess Tavel Story.)

Long time readers will know that I've been to Korea before. Actually, I'd say after the USA and Singapore, it's my 3rd Most Time Spent In Country. Oh come on, we've all worked out that list, am I right? Am I right?

I find getting to Korea is always fun. This is largely because it's been a far way away from where I was before I went. This time I was leaving from Belfast, and it being a far way away it was also entertaining. (That's not the right word, but it'll do.)

The fun started on early on the Monday morning I was supposed to leave. Yes, supposed to leave. That was the day, way back when, in October 2013 that there were big storms in London and my Belfast to London flight got cancelled. Not until I had spent a considerable amount of time in the City airport while Aer Lingus (who had their Belfast to London flight cancelled by Heathrow) worked on an alternative way to Busan, Korea without the luxury of a computer with the internet. I said at the time on Twitter, any sort of Information Desk without the internet is really just a Desk.

Visitors to City Airport will know it's super fun before security; there's that newsagents (I want to say WH Smith's but didn't' they close?) which sells those brightly coloured Irish sheep tourist tat and a Costa, for which I was the lucky winner of a £5 voucher for. I mean, it wasn't a raffle or anything, they just gave them out, but I hadn't had breakfast so I felt like a winner.

Anyway, cut to Tuesday and I was back in City Airport and ready to fly out again. This time I made through security! Again, patrons of City Airport will know that your options for pre-flight time killing rise exponentially. I mean, there's that cafe restaurant place that you have to walk all the way through before you chance upon the sort of food you're in the market for, some bar round the corner that few people must ever go to, another newsagents incase you passed by the opportunity of the first one (again, possibly a WH Smith one), some sort of last minute present buying shop that sells watches and scarfs and then a really small cafe that you see too late because you've already assumed the bigger one is it for your non-newsagent bought crisp food options.

As we were boarding the plane, who should I see, only Alistair McDonnell, leader of the SDLP! He's the one when I mention in class, I have a panic about his name (McDonell? O'Donnell?) and then look like I know nothing about. He was going to the bathroom before boarding so there was no time to for him to pass on to me how he easily remembers his name.

Heathrow was fairly uneventful. I got my Korean Won in the airport because I was so ill-prepared for the trip (even with 18 months notice) that I didn't have them already. I had something nice to eat while I watched something on my iPad. I can't remember what either were, but I have the feeling one was a milkshake or a donut or something. That's the eating; I think I watched something on iPlayer, I wasn't looking a picture of a donut on my iPad for an hour. That'd be weird.

At the gate for my flight to Shanghai (oh yeah, my nice route out to Busan got all arsed about and I was flying to Shanghai now), someone beside me had a very curt conversation with his mother about looking after another house he was having to sell on behalf of another family member (relationship: unclear). This made the wait for boarding way more interesting as me and fellow passengers shared shrugs and grimaced, awkward glances to the sky.

The flight was empty. Like empty. My nearest passenger was about 3 rows behind me or the other way, on the opposite window (I was in seat K). I watched movies...I'm sure. I can't remember. Oh yes! I did! I watched The Interns. Average.

Twelve days, I mean hours later we arrived in Shanghai. Ugh. It beats Atlanta to the top of my list of Worst Airports Ever. Come on, again I say, we all have that list, don't we? In my experience, it's a rare crap Asian airport, normally they're the best. Honestly, I have no kind words to say about Shanghai Airport… ummm… ehhh… it's roof seems to work, if it rained. There. There's one.

So let me explain my horrible Shanghai airport experience.

I was told I didn't' need a landing card. I did. I was told I needed to go to flight connections. I didn't. I was told my luggage was booked all the way through. It wasn't. I was told I'd have enough time to make my connection. I didn't.

And that's where the, what I'm calling, Shanghai Disaster really took hold.

My Chinese isn't what it should be, well whose is?! And bless those airport workers, I could tell they wanted to help me, just as I was willing to be told, but a game of Cross-Cultural Airport Charades after an early start and a long flight is just not my sport. It was only as I was on the points of having an emotional breakdown at a luggage carousel that one of the flight stewards from my flight saw me and worked out where I was supposed to be headed.

Then I had to trek (with my luggage) through the airport. Please, if you're going to Shanghai airport and changing terminal, remember your camel and enough food and water for the journey. The camel will be a pain to get it through customs, but you'll thank me. When I got the other terminal I wasn't entirely sure I was there because all I saw was a sign that said 'You are here'. Well no shit, Sherlock. Thanks a lot. Useful information. I have been 'here' since, well, 1980. See, even now I can't hide my bitterness and anger towards Shanghai Airport.

I arrived in time to discover I had missed my flight to Busan. Super, more Get To Know Shanghai Airport Time. And as a special bonus the next flight wasn't for another 7 hours. Woo. I was tired and hungry and had no Chinese money. Remember, I was never supposed to be in China and certainly not for any length of time that might require spending money. As BA had made me late for the flight, I was technically their responsibility. So I had to go back to the other terminal to see them. But again, I was without my camel.

When I got back to the other terminal there was no one from BA there. I tried Departures, Arrivals, Information. Everywhere. There was no one there. The best I can work out from the Shanghai Airport Information Girl (probably not her job title) it's because of the flight times to Europe they were done once my flight landed until that night when the flights for Europe would leave again. But the SAIG (I prefer the acronym) tried to describe to where the BA office was.

Three times I tried to get to that office. I couldn't find it. Each attempt felt like a two mile walk. And there were steps…with my stupid 'it's booked through' suitcase. My third time back at the desk, she gave me a note written in Chinese to show to the next airport worker I came across. Again I say, my Chinese is not what it should be.

I got to the office and, as with form, it was also closed. See what I mean. I know what you're thinking, how could a major airline, in a major city's airport close its office at 10.00am, because it's what I was thinking too. Albeit with more swearwords.

After 30 minutes, sitting in the only place I could find air con (oh yeah, all this was going on in a sweat box of an airport) I went back to the office, now I knew where it was. I got my flight delay money to spend in the airport. Of course, because it's Shanghai, you can't spend that anywhere. Oh no. It's like a less fun, more hunger driven game of treasure hunt to find the one underground restaurant to spend it in. Oh there's logos on the 'money' that match logos in the airport but for reasons I can't explain you can't spend them there. I suppose in fairness, I did find two restaurants but I gathered from the workmen gutting the second one that they were closed.

In the underground restaurant where I had to fight to be able to spend the airport money, I had a great sleep deprived, jet lagged, mental arithmetic task to work out what I could buy with my, as it turned out, limited funds. It was like the bloody Crystal Maze. If it hadn't been so far to get back to the BA office and had I been confident I would have someone there I would have gone back. But instead, I converted the fake money to a bowl of smiley face fries, dim sum and a Coke.

Three hours later, no joke, I left my seat in the basement restaurant and checked in for my flight. Well I tried. It's Shanghai, so I made my way through one long line only to be told I needed to join a different one. By now I'd been in Shanghai so long I was practically a native, so I headed straight to the top of the next queue, like I belonged there. But at last I had got rid of my 'it's checked through' suitcase.

I was flying with China Eastern to Busan, which was my first experience of time travel since I flew with Garuda to Jakarta; I was right back to 1970s air travel. What a joy to see and experience the olden times! We left the airport and boarded the bus. That's fine, lots of airports do the bus ride out to the airplane. Most airports don't drive you half way to your actual destination though. It took an age to get to the plane and although it was grey day, it was roasting hot. Plus I had the distinct feeling I was the talk of the bus. It was the looking and pointing that gave that away. That's Cross-Cultural Airport Charades for beginners, that.

So should you ever have the misfortune to fly to Shanghai I wish you luck. To you and your camel.

May you have enough smiley face fries to see you out of there.

Friday night, Saturday morning

I'm up marking. Or not marking as it happens. Honestly, marking exam papers is as much a psychological struggle as it is intellectual one.

Anyway, taking 'a break' to read my Twitter timeline I saw that Matt has made another video! This is exciting and made me 'extend my break' into blogging about it.

Matt is the guy who made a video of himself dancing around the world. Then he made another of him and lots of people dancing around the world. The third one is like the second one, except the dance moves have, by his own admission, improved.

I've used his videos in Citizenship classes and funny enough, the person who tweeted the link I saw said he uses them in Global Studies classes (he teaches in America). But, if you've never seen one, they're not educational in the traditional sense of the word.

Take a look, you'll be hard pressed not to raise a smile and feel slightly better about the world.



I want a job like that.

So...travelling to Emma's was fun

We've started planning Soul Mates 2013 already. I mention it because Soul Mates 2012 was that long ago and that's when I flew to America for a wonderful couple of weeks with some of my favourite people in the world. I never blogged about it and I don't really know why. But here at Princess no trip is too long ago to be celebrated. In fact, I kind of feel like it's the elephant in the room, or the blog not  blogged about.

As I so often have, I flew through Newark. It's my traditional route and comes from it being a hub for Continental, or United as it's now known. Hence air miles, hence this trip. I didn't have long in the airport, once you go through customs and immigration. Well long enough in the airport, but not long enough for a scoot into NYC as I've done before. I did get to see it from the window though.

Wow. You can really see that Manhattan is on a hill in this photo. Or I didn't straighten the photo in post-production. (I put that in deliberately. Long-time visitors will know there is no post-production on here.)

And there was time to grab lunch. And dinner. What?! I missed meals in the air.

The 1950s diner does a fantastic milkshake should you ever find yourself there.

Of course no trip to Newark is complete without getting a slice of my favourite broccoli pizza. It really is Newark's best kept secret. That, or it impresses no one else but me.

Fantastic!

Actually I had a fight on my hands to get into the right terminal (and by that I mean the pizza terminal) because my plane to Nashville left from a different terminal. But I was smart enough to realise that there was a United bus that left from one gate in the Pizza Terminal to the actual terminal. Ha! You will not deprive me of broccoli pizza.

At the gate I was all set. I reviewed my directions to get to Emma's house. And I waited. And I waited some more. And some more. And then my flight was delayed. And then it was moved. And then it was delayed some more. It was a fun time at the gate.

I amused myself by telling myself this was a Rascal Flatt sitting opposite me. But then I realised Rascal Flatts probably don't wear Phillies visors. Let's just pretend though.

Once the flight was moved gates I got talking to a lovely lady from Des Moines who was on her way back there from Florida after taking a continuing education class for her job. She was a masseuse and funnily enough, although likes her job, said it was stressful at times because clients would come in and offload all their problems on to her. Ha! She owned her own business and wants to set up acupuncture as well (actually she might have already - it's June and I can't remember!) I learned lots of interesting things from her about Des Moines, continuing education credits and masseusing in general. And she was happy to talk to me because I was from Ireland and have an accent. She told me that she was able to afford her classes because she'd done a Groupon deal and so had money in the bank from that. So that's better than a lot of the small business experiences of Groupon you hear in the media.

On the flight I was able to move to two seats that were free and slept for a while. With the delay I didn't arrive into about 10pm, which was about 4am my time. And this was after Soul Mates, the busiest weekend of my year. I was shattered. Nashville Airport was pretty quiet when we landed and I was the only person at the car rental place. The guy was from the UK and we had the oddest conversation because we kept on correcting our Americanisms back to the British which we didn't need to do but did kind of out of embarrassment.

He offered me the chance to upgrade. I declined. He offered me the sat nav. I declined. He asked again about the upgrade. I declined. You see, I had my skis with me and he really was quite concerned about getting them fitted in the car. That was nice of him, to be be concerned about me. That or it could be that he was on commission.

Eventually he sent me on my way, not before I asked him where the restrooms, eh bathrooms, eh toilets were. It was a long walk out to the parking structure, eh parking lot, eh car park and by the time I got there I was delighted to see the car rental man because he carried my stuff on down the line of parking spots.

You see, there weren't many cars parked in the lot. And then it came. My new friend offered me a free upgrade to any car I chose in the parking lot. Bingo!

To help me decide he asked me what was important to me in cars. This was a good question and one that I had no hesitation in answering: cupholders. Oh come on?! Isn't that important to everyone?! The other thing that was important to me was how close the car with the best cupholders was to me when we stopped to assess the options. On that basis I was happy to choose the nearby 6 cupholdered Hyundai Sonata. He fitted my skis in and I was on my way to Emma's.

Like I said, it was late and I was tired but with the power of Google Maps and some revision in Newark I made it out to Emma's without much trouble. There was only one sticky point when I couldn't find her exact house on the road, but it turned out I was right outside it: Emma flashed the porch lights and I was there!

Chalk another win up to the Interstate Queen!

Well this is just embarrassing now

Here I am getting ready for another trip and I never even mentioned the last one...two months ago. Eek. I even said last week I would write about it 'tomorrow'. And worse still I talked up my travelling tales before I even left for that trip. Don't worry, I won't make such a stupid mistake this time. I don't want to be the boy who cried wolf, as it were.

So where am I off? Well, I'm glad you asked. It's time for my annual reminder as to exactly how crap my French is. This time I'll be all shades of rouge in Belgrade. No, honestly. And as a special bonus lesson this year I'll find out just how abysmal my Serbian is! Two for the price of one!

But I am kind of excited too; I think Serbia will be my first new country since Cambodia in 2009. That's pretty exciting if you keep score of your new countries like I do. (What? Doesn't everybody have a mental tally of their countries?! Probably not the pot of flags though...)

And after a day like today in the homeland, what better time to go off and get some eastern European sun?

Don't worry guys, I'll take this one for the team.

While I'm away I might try and actually write about what I got up to in Colorado and why I'm moving there next. That last part is a joke. I think.

There's someone in here

There's lots of differences between America and Northern Ireland. You probably don't need me to tell you that. Like they need drive-through Starbucks and we want drive-through Starbucks. Or we sell small packets of crisps and they sell gigantic bags of potato chips. Or their parking spots are made for SUVs and trucks, and our parking spaces are not, despite Tesco mums' best efforts. Most of the differences are fine; you get adjusted.

However, here's one difference that will never be normal to me and I bet if you've ever been to the States you'll have noticed it too. It's that uncomfortable gap in the toilet cubicle door. What is with that? 

Yes I was sitting down when I took this photo. What of it?

It's all over too, it's like they have one company make all their toilet cubicles and they decided there should be a gap and so in public toilets all across America there's a gap. Or maybe there's a federal law which dictates the size of the gap? You see, it doesn't matter where you are, you can see people on the outside and they can see you. That's just weird. (Of course, Americans probably travel to Europe and think it's weird to pee with no one being able to see in. That's how we pee in Europe, my American friends!)

I suppose it's a small price to pay for the free refills though.

Benidorm is probably used to this

My flight over was the lovely Belfast Newark one. I've always loved that flight and never more so than on Monday when it was not the flight the hen party that had descended on Belfast International was getting. Lucky for Newark, better luck next time Benidorm.

You know the drill with those sort of hen parties. They have to have some sort of matching attire: cowboy hats, tiaras, t-shirt or feather boa. They hurl cheap plastic accessories on the bride until she has more stuff on her than a Christmas tree. A cheap, tacky and, dare I say it, a slutty Christmas tree.

This group were no different. Pink feather boas all round and team t-shirt with names on the back. Let's see, we had Sarah Big Baps, DD Diane, Leg Over Lesley, Maneater Michelle amongst others. Even those names make me cringe; I would hate to have to wear a t-shirt like that. But then there was worse.

You stay classy Gemz. (I don't even want to write on my blog what her friend Claire's name was.)

All through the airport were these pink feathers from their boas.

I have a feeling that the clean up from them in the airport will be the least messy of their entire trip.

Tina Long Legs

I got a birthday present in the post today - a lovely book of skiing photos and memories from Megann. It's a really great present and one that I'll enjoy looking at again and again.

It ended with a really great montage page of us on various different slopes and Megann wrote:

No matter of we are breezing down greens or struggling down blacks, repeating favourite runs or getting lost on a new side of the mountain, skiing in five layers or getting a tan on the slopes, we never want this run to be our final run or this year to be our last!

I couldn't have said it any better.

Anyway, aside from that there was one picture which made me look twice.

Me in downtown Denver our first year there. (I'm leaning on the cowboy's saddle.)

Why'd it make me look twice? Well, it made me realise that I do have quite long legs. I know, I'm 5'10 (ish). I don't know how I didn't realise before.

Travels with my mother (part 2)

I don't know, you wait years for a mother-daughter trip and then two come along at once. This trip was inspired by last year's Wimbledon trip. Mum has watched Wimbledon forever, well she doesn't remember Fred Perry or nowt, but a few years anyway. So this year it was my great pleasure to announce that once again I had tickets and mum was in! Way to score Daughter Points, Tina!

So at the end of June we were off. In order to make it a real trip we, of course, scheduled a trip to the theatre. Mum wanted to see Billy Elliot. Happy with my points from obtaining tickets, I vetoed it. We settled instead on Pygmalion. Sure the dancing and songs aren't as good, but the acting and the writing?! Tip top. Rupert Everett and Kara Tointon were in it, and they were ace. I tweeted afterwards that it reminded me of being in Mrs. Brown's English Lit class only with better actors. Actually, I can't be absolutely sure we ever acted it out, all I remember from Mrs. Brown's English class is her furiously writing notes on the blackboard, us geeks at the front writing them down and girls at the back asking if we had any magazines to read. Active learning my ass.

The next day we were off to SW19. It was men's quarterfinals day. On Centre Roger Federer was playing against Jo-Wilfred Tsonga and then Andy Murray against Feliciano Lopez. If you know my tennis preferences at all, you'll know I'm not greatly fond of Federer. He seems a nice enough man, sure. Til there's a record to be beaten and out he comes with his specially made jacket with his big RF all over it to wear for the presentation. What a big head! You also might know that I love Rafa Nadal. A lot. But that's not important for this story, he was playing on Court 1.

We went to the same entrance that Ruth and I used last year so Mum could see what it's like courtside.

This man appeared through the door. I don't think he plays on the tour.

Then we hung around the Press Centre. Right beside Roger was warming up.

You can imagine my excitement.

Martina Navratilova and Jana Novotna were playing on Court 18 and so we waited for them to walk past. While we waited I got talking to a man in a shirt and tie. Throughout the course of our conversation it emerged he worked for the ATP as an announcer and used to umpire matches (including some of Navratilova's wins at Wimbledon and Stefan Edberg's win in the 1980s). He was a super nice man and we had a lovely chat.

All the while we were waiting there was a young fella walking around. Only later that evening we realised it was future British star Liam Broady. Should have taken a picture of him. But he hadn't beaten the world number 1 at that point!

Honestly, you hang around for twenty minutes and then a stupid woman with a ponytail walks infront of your photo of Martina and Jana. I'm shaking my fist at you Ponytail Lady!

 Before too long we were back to Centre Court, ready for play to start.

The royal box was getting full. It was exciting to get texts from Ruth watching at home, telling us who to look out for. Such celebs as Amanda Holden, Les Ferdinand, Greg Norman, Lewis Hamilton Michael Caine, and Sir Cliff. Then the exciting news came through that Pippa Middleton was there! It quickly became apparent she wasn't in the royal box, but with only a red dress to go on it took a while to find her. But find her I did!

I lent her that red dress.

Oh yes. There was tennis too. We didn't have a spectator meeting beforehand or anything, but there was definitely a feeling that the big match that day was going to be the Murray match. Well no one told Tsonga that. After coming out and losing his first service game and the first two sets he woke up. Bam. It was a brilliant match, and not just because he was beating Federer.

Please enjoy this video of match point. Whooping, hollering and shaky camera work included. But look at his little victory dance. Bless.

Like I said, no one really expected it to be as good a match as it was. Or that it would go to five sets. By the time Murray came on, there the court was about two-thirds full. I, myself, went out during the first set. After some crap directions to the bathrooms from an employee I chanced upon this view of Henman Hill.

Bunged.

Murray made short work of Lopez and was soon walking off, safely through to the semis. 

He passed by our old seats. Still, I'd have Rafa's autograph any day over Murray's. No offence, like.

To finish the day off with we had some doubles. Todd Woodbridge and Jonas Bjorkman against Cedric Pioline and Barry Cowan. Yes, no I'd never heard of him either. Apparently he was a doubles player back in the day.

Boom.

And so that was that.

A good day was had by all.

Except for possibly my mother, who got food poisoning from something that day. Though she'd probably prefer if I didn't tell that story I will say it's miserable to be that sick away from home.

The next day I went into London town by myself. I had about two hours to walk around. But I consider it quite successful as I found my dress for graduation (in about 5 minutes, I thank you), saw the Olympics countdown clock, bought a Krispy Kreme doughnut, and went to Covent Garden.

In Covent Garden Tube Station I just about lost it with a woman. I couldn't get through the barriers because my Oyster card needed more money on it. It had started to rain and the tiniest Tube Station in the world became rammed. I fought my way back to the window (the one window) and queued. Imagine my joy when the woman in front of me wanted to have discussion about how best to get her group of 17 to wherever and what sort of ticket was best to buy. I bit my tongue and said nothing.

However, when it came to paying I could not remain silent when she turned to the group of 17, scattered throughout the station (which was rammed, remember) and asked that each person bring her £1.50 to pay for their ticket. I might have told her that wasn't the best way to do things. She might have replied that she had no choice. Then I might have replied and said with great exasperation 'This is London'.

Two days in London and I became a huffy Londoner. Well, when in Rome...

Travels with my mother (part 1)

I had the (somewhat) recent fortune to take two trips with my mother. Everyone should travel with their mother. It's an experience. On these trips I learnt my mum would travel practically nowhere. Not that she doesn't have a sense of adventure, it just needs to be coaxed out of her. Thank goodness for Take That and Wimbledon then.

Take That
I've never been a massive Take That fan. Sure, I like them, but I'm not obsessive over them. I didn't really like any of their songs when I was a teenager, until Back For Good. I remember watching the video for that on The Chart Show (remember The Chart Show?) And I liked Never Forget, but then Robbie left, and they did that awful How Deep is Your Love cover (to be fair any cover of that song would be terrible, as it is a terrible song) and it all went pear shaped.

I wasn't here when the documentary came out that got them back together as a four. Likewise, when their first new singles were coming out I was in Singapore, so I really did miss the hype and what not. I liked The Circus ok, and I saw the show on TV and it looked really great. All the same I wouldn't say I'm a massive fan of them.

Mum likes the new stuff a lot so when the Progress tour was announced I thought it would be a nice Christmas present to get her tickets to go. So on the day they came out I got up early and sat with three computers on the go and got tickets. Like I mentioned before I actually got three sets of tickets because Caroline, who is obsessed with Gary Barlow, didn't realise the tickets for Dublin went on sale at 8.00am, not 9.00am. And then Karen (David's) wrote back to my text from the night previously and said she did want to go, so the two I got for mum and me were sold on and I got three for us. I did feel a bit bad though to hear of diehard fans who didn't get tickets that day and there's me with eight, bought on three separate transactions.

Anyway, eventually June rolled around and we were headed to Dublin. At times Dublin felt like it was taking part in a record attempt for the world's biggest hen party. Feather boas, group outfits, drunk women, you know the deal. We gave ourselves nicknames for our non-existant t-shirts. Mum became Duke of Ed. She had every possible map, timetable and info about the concert. Heck, she even brought packed sandwiches for the way back. Karen is 'Got Your Ticket?' due to an unfortunate lost ticket incident. My name? Well because we were at the back of the stadium I wanted to bring binoculars, you know, so we could see their faces. Too bad we couldn't find them and all we had was this:

A monocular. So I became Nelson.

 So what of the concert? Well, of course it was fantastic. Robbie's bit was my favourite. He is such a showman and had the audience in the palm of his hand.

This was during Rock DJ. I enjoyed that one.

I really liked when they showed the crowds in front of  them. I bet Robbie thought he'd never play to as many people again.

Quite the set too. Now, are your people involved in 2012? Because that would be a good idea.

Just a short week later I was off travelling with mother again. Honestly, the last mother-daughter trip was c. 1989 to Penzance and now two come along at once.

Well there I go again

You thought you had me and then I disappear again. I didn't even make it here for the 31st International Tina Day. Eek.

I have been meaning to blog, about loads of things actually. And look, now it's CHW week and I haven't. So I'm going to attempt to write a few posts for while I'm away and at the very least get my July blog count upped past one, which, I think anyone would agree, is piss poor.

This past week I travelled was in Dublin. I haven't been in Dublin, like proper Dublin (not counting airports and concert venues) for about 18 months. This week I spent 4 days out of 7 there.

Trip one was for my birthday. I had the super idea after meeting Jools in the airport at Christmas to spend my birthday at his house. Why? Well, birthday roadtrip? I love a roadtrip, I love my birthday! Notch up another location for ITD? I love new locations for ITD! Have super fun with friends? I love having super fun with friends. Win. Win. Win.

Trips two and three were for meetings. They're not wildly exciting for blogging. For the first one I got the train down. Like Julia Roberts would say, big mistake, huge. My two hour meeting took 12 hours of my day. Mostly because it took two and half hours to get home from Lisburn. Got to love Translink.

Aside from delays, it was a hateful journey home for another reason. Mostly because of the man sitting beside me. On the way down I had a smoker sitting opposite me. Bad. The way back was much worse. In fact, I was moved to writing this letter to the man. I didn't actually give it to him, but he might have seen my phone screen at one point. Oopsy.

Dear man sitting next to me on the 16.50 Enterprise from Dublin whose leg has been annoying me for the past hour,

You haven't travelled on public transport much, have you? I have some experience so let me pass on some of my knowledge: if you were to move your bag to the overhead shelf you'd be able to move you leg away from mine. This would also solve the problem of your foot being practically on top of my handbag.

No offense like, but, you see, I'd prefer if our legs weren't touching. I don't know you and I'm a personal bubble kinda gal with new people.

Every time I move away from you, you then take that as as invitation to fill the gap. In a while I'll be stuck to the window like Spidy himself. I wouldn't even mind your complete dominance of the arm rest if you could just ensure our thighs were independent from one another.

Kind regards and happy future travelling,
Tina

Touching, touching. I can get mad because you're touching.

Football fans

Coming home from Brussels was nearly as exciting as going out, owing to the Champions' League final that was to be played in Wembley that night. I had a couple of hours to kill before my flight home so I got off the tube in Covent Garden and walked through to Picadilly people watching as I went.

Man Utd fans were camped out in Covent Garden.

Whereas Barca fans were congregated in Trafalgar Square.

Choice of clothing in how you represented your team was amusing and I particularly enjoyed this man wearing a skirt.

The media were out too, and I watched as this Man Utd fan gave a relatively serious interview to a Spanish crew, only to have a drunk Man Utd fan wait until the very last second to be a jeering intruder in the back. 

Maternal concerns over my safety were not necessary as there was a good atmosphere between fans, as demonstated by the warm handshake below.

A handshake full of love and respect.

Before too long I was on my way to Heathrow. Imagine my shock to see this on the tube though.

All jokes aside, she was European and although I couldn't tell exactly where from my bet is Belgium.

Normally my blog would end there, but no. In Heathrow and the flight home I had two disasters.

1. I broke my brand new bottle of perfume on the airport floor when my bag of toiletries fell. No only that but the Aer Lingus staff were most unhelpful in the clean up operation and I cut my thumb. Which then became infected. Green pus. Tasty.

2. The insect bite I got on my ankle during the second night in Brussels swoll (that's not a word, but you know what I mean) up during the flight. So much so that the next day I couldn't walk on it. I even went down stairs on my butt. If you follow me on Twitter you'll know I was talking a lot about my sausage foot. This was why. It took another two days for the swelling to die down and another two weeks for the damn bite to stop itching - way over my normal insect bite healing time. During that time I did a lot of imagining of how that insect might have met his death. Falling into a vat of boiling oil was my favourite. In Christian love, of course.

Brussels baby

It's a wonder the Friends people didn't film their special in Brussels; Brussels Baby as quite the ring to it.

Anywho, much like Lyon and Strasbourg the reasons and content of my trip there are unblogable. But not the photos!

I saw this postcard on my way home. Pleased to say I  had a typical experience. Except for whatever that is  middle left.

Belgian Waffles! (I didn't eat all of these, but I could have if challenged.)

Of course we visited the European Institutions.

Ra ra Europe!

It seems to me that no matter where you are in the world, there's always an Irish pub around the corner. Except in Ireland, where we just call them pubs.

There was an important looking press conference about to take place outside. No idea what about! Don't be concerned about the rubbish, see next photo)

It's art, silly! This is a monster made from plastic bags, showing the waste that is involved in using them.

Belgium has some interesting art. And some things they think is art. Like this piece in a metro station.

I don't really know what this represents, or why there's a child's foot poking out of one end.

And of course there's the more famous example of Manneken Pis. (Click on the Wikipedia page to see him dressed up. The judo outfit is a particular favourite.)

I don't get it. Although I have seen it every time I've ever been to Brussels. Ever the tourist, me.

I like that the chocolate shops in the streets around it really capitalise on it too.

There's a reason why the original is so small. Some things you don't need to see enlarged (or made into a chocolate replica, for that matter).

Well eating and peeing is just wrong. And he'll want to be careful where that flag drapes.

We also saw the Belgian Palace. Nice.

The un-touristy view of Belgium was quite exciting too, of course. Not least because of this in a newsagents.

It must be just like Bella!

Also, Fair Trade Cola on sale in regular shops. That's something I'd like to see here.

In the train station on my way home I noticed something I hadn't really paid attention to before. People with little dogs.

This woman was in Quick (well if you're going to have fast food, best make it local) And her little dog was there too! In a restaurant (and I use that term loosely).

And then at the departure gate another one! I mean really.

So do Belgians have a great love for little dogs that they're allowed most anywhere?

Anyway, a good time was had by all. And just in case there was any doubt about the work that was done, let me show you the garden of where we were staying.

There wasn't even a pool in this place. Fa-chaa!

A plane, the president and the palace

Exam marking season now underway so what better time to blog about my trip to Brussels a couple of weeks ago?! As with Lyon and Strasbourg, these places are a bally nightmare to get to. I avoided the silly o'clock flight from Dublin and took the plane from Belfast and Eurostar from St. Pancras. Makes for a better travelling experience I thought. And I was right.

Our flight flew right over central London, and had it been a better day it would have been like an episode of The Apprentice. I first noticed when we flew right over a massive train station that looked awfully like St. Pancras, except using my London geography knowledge I knew that St. Pancras was nowhere near Heathrow. It's not, but we still flew over it and turned the wrong way to get to Heathrow. That's why I'm not a pilot. Next thing I know we're over Greenwich and Olympic Park and I was reaching for my camera!

Olympic Park. You can see the stadium, basketball arena, velodrome and village. Never mind those though, where's the handball arena?!

Home of 2012 Gymnastics.

Canary Wharf. I can nearly hear The Apprentice music now...bum dadum badum badum badum badum ba dum dummmm...

Right over Tower Bridge. You can't really tell except for its shadow in the Thames.

Central London. I've picked out a few highlights for you below.

I decided against annotating the plane wing and the Thames. I thought you could spot them yourself.

Whitehall, the London Eye and Big Ben.

Buckingham Palace and St. James' Park.

Finally our jaunt over the hot spots of London was over, things became more residential and less obvious. Except for this place.

The blue seats of Queen's Club!

And off in the distance, Wembley.

I feel the towers would have been harder to pick out that the big arch.

It was exciting that morning to hear that Obama was going to be arriving in Buckingham Palace. I had a few hours before my train with nothing planned. So I headed to Buckingham Palace to see what I could see.

American flags on Pall Mall for one...

and crowds were milling about.

The press porta-cabins for William and Kate were downgraded to gazebos for the President.

The little walk way you can see was left open so I, along with about twenty other people piled across the back of all their shots. I was the only one with a suitcase, however.

The BBC's Emily Maitlis was getting ready to go live.

The Household Cavalry rode past.

There were loads of cameras there. I saw them set up the one on the roof of the Palace, there were big stands and then there was this guy.

The police on duty were deliberating sketchy about where the car was going to be coming from or going to. Understandable I suppose. I had picked out a place right beside the lamp post in this shot only to decide to move closer to the gates.

I picked the wrong gates though and definitely would have been better where I was.

I, and my fellow hangers on, waited. And then we waited some more. And then a little bit more. It wasn't actually that bad, it was all good natured. I got talking to a group of American students were in London on a layover to Kenya for 12 weeks. I took their picture for them after it was all over so they have a nice group shot in front of the Palace. I'm such a friendly sort.

The finally big moment came, the cheers started and the President drove past. I wouldn't actually say I saw him so much as I saw someone waving in the back of the car. I took a video but it's a bit Jimmy White and if I were to put it on you'd really wonder if I saw anything at all. Like I said, I would have been better where I was. Oh well.

It took a while for them to let us out of the area in front of the palace. I didn't understand why. And then it became clear: William and Kate arrived. Ironically they went through the gate I was at, except I had moved to try to leave so all I saw was the car they were in. Not so successful. That said, I doubt I'll ever be closer to Obama or the Cambridges. 

Or Emily Maitlis for that matter.