234 Edinburgh-Geneva (Easyjet): Was lying in bed with my book and a bacon roll, enjoying the rare luxury of a lunchtime flight, when I got a knock on the door at 8:30am. Turned out to be the plumber who was possibly coming on Tuesday, definitely Wednesday, to service the boiler. So I clearly wasn’t expecting him on Thursday. It then transpired that the boiler was humped and had to be disconnected pending replacement, so no hot water or heating in the meantime. It looked like I had picked the right time for a long weekend in France…
On arrival at EDI it seemed plenty of other people had obviously had the same idea. I thought I had avoided the bulk of the easter weekend traffic by travelling on the Thursday, but the terminal was mobbed with an annoying number of families. Equally annoying was the construction work going on at the retail space just after security, meaning the water fountain had disappeared. I headed to Boots to buy some water to fill my bottle (as it was the cheapest option), only to find it was closed. On closer inspection no, it wasn’t actually closed; the shutters were down with a tiny gap and large hastily-printed A4 signs saying ‘Cash only – sorry’. So it was next door to W.H. Smith, which was of course mentally busy due to the near-closure of Boots. Almost fifteen minutes queueing for an extortionately priced £2.89 bottle of Evian, just so I could have something to drink on my journey to…Evian. I then discovered a new water fountain had been installed next to Gate 11.
The flight to Geneva was pleasant as always, (it’s one route where I’ll always make sure I have a window seat), and I treated myself to a can of Rekorderlig en route. The border was pleasantly quiet on arrival, and I was quickly out and headed to the train station to be met by someone in a rabbit costume accompanied by SBB staff handing out little packets of complimentary Lindt chocolate eggs. Not sure what the reason was but I made a few passes to collect as many as possible, (who wouldn’t?). There was no need though, as there were plenty more on arrival at Gare Cornavin.
One thing that had confused me on my previous visit to the Haute-Savoie last spring was the fact that I didn’t seem to be able to book the Leman Express trains directly from Geneva, which had meant making my way into the city, taking the tram across the border to Annemasse and catching the train from there. Turned out that the hack for this was booking the train through the SBB app rather than the SNCF one, (no, I don’t know why you book a French train through Swiss railways either), meaning I could get on the train at Geneva this time. And a good job I did too, as it was standing room only by the time it reached Annemasse.
235 Geneva-Edinburgh (Easyjet): After a brief wander around the city in the sunshine, I arrived at GVA to find it as busy, chaotic and expensive as ever. I knew there was no water fountain here, so I had no choice but to pay for some water, this time splashing out 3.90CHF for more Evian, (no irony there). And then found that the airport had finally gotten around to installing a water fountain.
Once onboard my return flight I discovered I’d had the ill-luck to be seated in the midst of a group of twenty-something male twats who had obviously been off to a skiiing holiday in the Alps, (possibly paid for by their parents). One overheard comment about how excited they were about the new Greggs on Byars Road was enough for me to adequately judge them, and I kept my headphones on all the way home. EDI was pleasantly quiet on arrival with no queue at the border. However, my passport did not want to be scanned and I had to go to the desk. But since it’s almost reached the end of it’s ten years I wouldn’t be surprised if the chip was playing up; it only has to last three or four more trips anyway. No big delay though, and I was soon on my way home to see if my new boiler had been installed during my absence as promised.
228. Edinburgh-Amsterdam (KLM): it would be fair to say I regretted not taking advantage of my prescription of sleeping pills the night before this trip; with barely an hour or two of sleep, I was so tired that I left the house without my phone, though luckily I remembered it before I got too far up the street. And if I needed any further proof that I was still half-asleep, I didn’t have to look any further than the security guard at EDI who, before putting me through the body scanner, politely pointed out that my fly was down.
Security was actually quite busy, with an awful lot of Disneyland-bound kids in mickey mouse attire, presumably meaning I had timed my trip to coincide with the mid-term break. This meant that I actually arrived airside literally as they made the first boarding announcement for my flight. On reflection, this was probably a good thing, as I appeared to be in real danger of sitting down and falling asleep somewhere. Fifteen minutes later I did exactly that on the aircraft, sleeping soundly all the way to AMS.
229. Amsterdam-Copenhagen (KLM): stamp number forty-three;
‘Where are you going?’
‘Faroe Islands’.
‘Where?’
‘The Faroe Islands’.
Leans forward. ‘Where?’
‘The. Faroe. Islands’.
‘Let me see your boarding pass’. Brief pause. ‘So you’re going to Copenhagen, why did you not just say you were going to Denmark?’
‘I did’.
230. Copenhagen-Vagar (Atlantic Airways): I’m fully aware that there is a direct service from EDI to FAE, but it doesn’t operate in February and I wasn’t moving my birthday. Hence the circuitous Edinburgh-Amsterdam-Copenhagen-Vagar route I was taking today, which would take around twelve hours but would at least earn me an awful lot of qualifying miles/XP points.
I would however be spending more time in transit than actually flying, and decided to splash out on some lounge access. For Amsterdam this meant the usual KLM Crown Lounge, but for Copenhagen, (an airport I hadn’t even visited since December 2015), I would have to try something different, opting for the Carslberg Aviator Lounge. Carslberg actually do do lounges, and whilst they’re not the best in the world, this one wasn’t too bad. For the mere sum of around £25 there was unlimited fizzy Danish lager, a cold buffet and comfy chairs in a typically scandi-design area. A pleasant few hours, although the Lego store looked kinda fun too.
Come departure time, I was awfully excited to see the Atlantic Airways sitting at the gate awaiting our boarding, as I‘d been planning to visit the Faroes for a very long time (though I was also slightly merry after all that free beer). There’s no business or first class with this airline, so everyone boarded in two halves; rows 16-29 then everyone else. There was a distinctly ‘community’ feeling about the flight, as if everyone (pax and crew) all knew each other, which I guess is perfectly possible with such a small place. I obviously stood out as a stranger, as my seatmate immediately quizzed me on whether I was on holiday or business before we had even fastened our seat belts. Turned out he was a pilot for over twenty years for numerous airlines (including Atlantic), and a very pleasant two hours was spent chatting about flying and the Faroes. The inflight service was a buy onboard model, with a beer and pringles for a reasonable 60DKK; naturally I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity of trying my first Faroese beer. There were also some nice-looking cold plates being handed out which needed pre-ordering.
As much as I was enjoying the flight and the conversation, I was nevertheless slightly worried about our arrival being delayed due to the airport being unable to keep the runway clear of snow. Off to Mykines we went, flying donuts for an additional fifteen minutes before getting clearance to land. This made me slightly nervous about getting my luggage and catching the last public bus from the airport to my home just down the hill in Sorvagur. But there was no need to be concerned, and I even had time to make use of the duty free store to pick up a few six-packs.
Normally I’m quite happy to be standing out in heavy snow for a while, but it had been a long day and I was keen to be in my accommodation and settled in for the night. So I was a little alarmed when the scheduled departure of 20:15 came and went with no bus in sight. A quick check of the tracker on the Strandfaraskip Landsins website, (using the airport wifi as my phone wasn’t working), showed that the bus was en route, albeit slightly behind schedule. Perhaps it was because the bus was late, or perhaps the driver did not expect to have to collect someone and take them to Sorvagur (rather than taking people in the opposite direction to Torshavn, which was far more common), but for whatever reason the little dot on my screen simply bypassed the airport and continued down the road to Sorvagur without me.
This was an unwelcome development, to put it mildly. With the last flight of the day having arrived, the airport was now closing up for the night, with staff heading off into the snow, and most of the passengers having been collected by friends, relatives or taxis. A handful remained, who I canvassed for information, but they were all overseas tourists waiting on the bus arriving from Sorvagur to take them to Torshavn. With no taxis, no information staff, no working phone and no bus, it appeared there was only one way I could get to Sorvagur; walk.
It’s not massively far from Vagar Airport to Sorvagur, perhaps a mile or so. But in a foot of snow, with two heavy bags (and two six packs of lager), walking along a dark main road, it’s not the most pleasant experience. And of course my accommodation was at the far end of the village, so it was more like two miles. But at least it was all downhill.
231 Vagar-Copenhagen (Atlantic Airways): Well at least I had no trouble getting the bus from Sorvagur to the airport. But due to the vagaries of the timetable, I had a choice of being there three hours before departure, or fifteen minutes before departure. Clearly I couldn’t risk the latter. But if there’s one international airport you don’t need to be at three hours beforehand, it’s Vagar.
I had been unable to check in online for this trip, (presumably as it was a codeshare?), so I had to do it at the airport. This was fine, as the self-check machines were easy to use, and I was able to print my baggage tags as well. If the bag drops had been open, then I could have dumped my luggage and gone for a wander. But no, they didn’t open until an hour before departure, meaning a long few hours sitting and counting the four walls. At least when they did open, I had time enough to go outside and do some planespotting, before returning to the terminal for one of the fastest security checks ever.
The flight was pleasant again, although a window seat would have been nice; sadly the self-check machine didn’t seem to give me any seating options. I treated myself to another beer and pringles, and made the discovery of Atlantic Airways onboard entertainment system. This was accessed by a QR code, and once connected, provided a comprehensive selection of movies, television shows and other content. Pretty impressive for such a relatively small airline, I felt. There was also more traditional content in the form of an inflight magazine, which I kicked myself for not taking a copy of as I knew that this month it contained an interview with my favourite Faroes indie artist.
232 Copenhagen-Amsterdam (KLM): the return route was a bit quicker than the outbound, with much shorter connection times, so there was no need to splash out on lounge access. A little bit of window shopping and a brief pizza slice and cola from 7-eleven was more than sufficient. However, I could have done without the large asian man at the gate taking his shoes and socks off for additional comfort, as well as the group of inebriated Irish lads who kept getting served beer after beer by the cabin crew.
233 Amsterdam-Edinburgh (KLM): I’d always wondered why the shops and restaurants seemed to close fairly early (between 8-9pm) at Schiphol, especially since I was almost always transiting through it for the last flight to Edinburgh. Tonight I finally realised that, contrary to what I had always assumed, Schiphol did not operate 24hrs a day, with no flights permitted between 11pm and 6am. This would explain why everything starts closing down when it does. It would also explain another unpleasant discovery tonight; mice.
I suppose it makes sense in such a vast building that there would be literally hundreds of little gaps in the walls, floors etc. for mice to invade from once the majority of people had gone for the day. The first one I spotted raced across the floor of a food court, to the complete lack of consternation of one of the cleaners. Well I’d be damned if I was ever eating any food here again. And as I made my way through an increasingly deserted building to the gate for my flight, (which I now realised was the second-last departure of the day), the numbers of mice scuttling around became almost biblical. Definitely not eating here again. I presume the airport management are aware of the issue and have already done what they can to address it, though I feel a sizable cat presence in the terminal would definitely be a step forward.
226 Edinburgh-Gothenburg (Ryanair): A very quiet EDI today, as you might well expect from a Saturday afternoon in mid-January. Hardly anyone downstairs at check-in, and security took under two minutes to negotiate. In fact I don’t think I’d ever seen the airport so quiet, I could even have gotten a table in Wetherspoon’s if I so desired. However, mindful of the fact I was still waiting on the results of my annual diabetes check-up, I opted for a nice salad and a bottle of water from Boots instead.
This weekend’s flights had cost the princely sum of £48 return, and it would have been even less if I hadn’t paid for my preferred seats. There is of course a reason why budget airlines sell seats so cheap; it’s not out of the kindness of their hearts, but because they haven’t sold enough seats for the flight and risk running it at a loss. So I wasn’t expecting a particularly busy service today, which was borne out by the number of people at the gate for departure. I briefly considered a rough headcount to get an idea of the numbers and then had the question answered in unexpected detail by a frustrated ground agent; ‘C’mon folks, the bus holds 100 passengers and there’s only 81 of you today, can you please move up a bit?’ Well that answered that. Incidentally, it must be so annoying to pay for priority boarding just to be stuck on the same bus as everyone else, what a waste of money.
Once onboard we had the usual pre-departure shuffle you get on half-empty flights, when the miserable cunts who are too mean or feckless to pay in order to sit beside their travelling companions get up and start swapping seats. The flight was fairly short, but I treated myself to a cider as it was the first trip of the year. The only incident of concern was when we were told there was turbulence ahead and the seat-bealt sign went on, at which point the pilots left the cockpit, (one after another), to use the bathroom. Were they shitting themselves at the prospect of some turbulence? Why were they allowed to use the loo during turbulence when the rest of us had to strap ourselves in? What if one of them got sent flying by an unexpected wave whilst wandering the cabin and were incapacitated? Since there was barely a tremble of the wings during the next fifteen minutes, I suspect the turbulence was simply a ruse so they could get to use the bathroom uninterrupted…
With a direct flight for once, this meant I would get a Swedish stamp in my passport instead of yet another one from the Dutch immigration at Schipol. As I expected, immigration at GOT was a fairly small arrangement, a mere two desks with not much of a queue. And as with my last arrival at GOT, the airport bus was waiting outside and ready to depart within a minute or so of my boarding. A massively pleasant contrast to the usual headfuck landing at EDI always seems to be.
227 Gothenburg-Edinburgh (Ryanair): Was at the terminal a little earlier than was really neccessary, but fuck me it was bloody cold in Gothenburg and I was keen to just sit down somewhere warm. And it gave me plenty of time to buy more Finnish chocolate, which is always the highlight of any visit to Sweden.
Quite a few familiar faces at the airport today, including the bunch of weegie students who I had spotted in my local last night, as well as the two girls who had been sitting opposite me on the outbound flight. I also had the same border officer, who could not for the life of her find the entry stamp that she herself had put in my passport less than 48 hours ago. I was just about to helpfully direct her to page 15 to find it when she finally managed to track it down, buried deep amongst a forest of Schipol entry and exit stamps. The flight was routine, with the half-empty aircraft prompting another game of musical chairs before departure. And once again the pilots announced some upcoming turbulence and then promptly went to the toilet; there’s something going on there…
222 Edinburgh-Amsterdam (KLM): Slightly melancholy feels on the way to EDI this morning as this was the last trip of the year. although I would finally be ticking Norway off the list. The weather was bitterly cold with salt already covering the pavements, which made me wonder why the windows were open on the airport bus. The airport wasn’t particularly busy for a Friday morning, although mid-November isn’t really peak travel time for most. Whilst wandering the terminal I spotted the signage for KLM at Gate 17, and naturally assumed that this would be the departure gate. So I was a little surprised to find it was actually Gate 14. And since the signs with the queueing directions were still at Gate 17, this resulted in a bit of a chaotic rugby scrum at boarding, with nobody knowing where they were supposed to go and the gate agent screaming at them to get back in line (although nobody knew exactly what line she meant as there were no signs), before stropping off in a huff, muttering that we were all idiots and it wasn’t her fault. Which is fair, as it is clearly the responsibility of the passengers to ensure the right signs are at the gate so we all know where to queue. Said nobody ever. Egg mayo sandwiches this morning, which disappeared into my bag and then into a bin at Schipol.
223 Amsterdam to Bergen (KLM): When I originally booked this trip I had a 2hr transit at Schipol before heading to Norway, so I was more than surprised to receive an itinerary with a nine and ahalf hour transit in Amsterdam, with my original flight to Bergen vanished into the ether. Presumably it was cancelled for ‘operational reasons’. but nine hours is a long time in any airport, so I headed out through security and out into the Netherlands for a daytip in torrential rain to Zaanse Schaans.
I arrived back at Schipol six hours later, slightly damp and laden down with Nijntje goodies from the Hema in Zaandam. En route to security I was accosted by a salesman with some beauty products who insisted on smothering something on my nose to clean the pores and buffing a few nails before being rather disappointed to find that I did not want to spend ninety Euros on his wonder cream or whatever it was.
The flight clearly wasn’t going to be full, as an announcement went out before boarding asking if anyone would sit in row 14 at the emergency exits, which was a bit of a first. And I scored an empty row again to enjoy another egg mayo sandwich (carry-on bag, then bin at the tram stop at Danmarkplass). And whilst I’m sure the descent into BGO is probably very scenic, it would be completely invisible at 11pm, so I wasn’t tempted to shift over to the window seat. First impressions of the airport were very similar to GOT last month, modern, stylish and Scandi. And there was a very pleasant surprise on arrival when I discovered a duty-free shop, where I took the opportunity to start my beer shopping early at considerably reduced prices.
224 Bergen-Amsterdam (KLM): The tram from the city to the airport was a fairly lengthy and dull affair, which was livened up considerably on arrival when some poor traveller dropped an incautiously balanced bag of wine bottles and smashed them all over the concourse. Oh dear. BGO was fairly quiet, with a clutch of automatic bag drops upstairs at departures and very few staff to be seen. So it was annoying when I tried to check my bag and was instructed to see a desk agent, as there were none around. Almost an hour passed before an actual KLM check-in desk opened, where I was cheerfully informed that my bag had to be checked by staff as I was leaving the Schengen Zone. Another wonderful benefit to be grateful to Brexit for, what glorious sunlit uplands British travellers live in nowadays. Despite a 30min delay the flight down to AMS was routine, and I took the opportunity to stock up on more beers at the duty free beforehand, although I resisted the temptation to buy some Fazer advent calendars.
225 Amsterdam-Edinburgh (KLM): Just one final cheese sandwich to go before being finished with KLM for the year, I headed to my gate at AMS in the knowledge that with this trip I had now maintained silver status for another year. However, on arrival at the gate it looked like this had the potential to be another ’embarrassed-to-be-Scottish’ flight; a bunch of young lads were careening around the gate area, blind drunk and generally being fannies. With the various delays at AMS today due to fog, it seemd their original flight to ABZ had been cancelled earlier in the day and they had been rerouted onto this one.
The problems started as soon as boarding was complete and the safety demonstration started, when one of them decided it would be fun to film it. With KLM’s strict policy on not filming crew or passengers without their consent, this immediately drew the ire of the purser, who stormed down the aisle to confront them and insist on seeing the pictures/video being deleted. A brief war of words erupted, which at one point made me think we were gonna be heading back to the gate to deplane someone. Although this would have been tremendously amusing, I was also mindful of the fact that I was working tomorrow, and didn’t want to be delayed by an hour. Luckily the flashpoint passed and there was no need to taxi back and relieve ourselves of a fanny. And it was pleasing to see the crew would not serve them any alchohol later on, with a puzzled shrug from the stewardess answering their entreaties. Shame this crew hadn’t been on that flight in January 2020…
210 Edinburgh-Amsterdam (KLM): Once again I decided to keep KLM on their toes by booking the lunchtime flight for a change, meaning a relaxed morning making my way out to EDI. The airport was a little busier than I expected for lunchtime on a Thursday, but security was quick and organised as always. A last minute trip to the bookshop turned out to be a particularly protracted affair, with the only assistant boring the arse off the customer in front of me with a lengthy explanation of how distributors choose what books go to what store. I only wanted a postcard for my Airbnb host for my traditional thank you note, having forgotten to pick one up earlier in the week.
Flight was pretty busy, including a young family in the row behind me who needed a gentle reminder from the cabin crew to please stop fucking around deciding what bags you needed for take-off and sit the fuck down with your kid so she could signal the cabin was ready for departure. Sorry, but if you decide to have children then you have to accept that you just cannot travel for the next ten years, or that the vast majority of your fellow passengers are going to utterly despise you. Today we had the cheese sandwiches, which I accepted before remembering I was trying to avoid eating too much for a very good reason.
211 Amsterdam-Vienna (KLM): Schipol wasn’t particularly busy on arrival, and as I had over four hours transit time I was able to meander around the shops a little and take my time getting through the Schengen border. And as I had such a long transit time on this trip, I had decided to finally treat myself to the KLM Crown Lounges en route (motivated slightly by the 25% discount I now received thanks to my silver status). My only previous lounge experiences had ranged from dismal at the Swissport lounge in GNV to very good at the new Aspire lounge in EDI; hopefully I could expect more of the latter than the former.
Having found the lounge, getting access was straightforward enough, all I had to do was scan my boarding pass at the entrance. This was the smaller of the two Crown Lounges at Schipol, and I was slightly worried that it would be a little busy, but it was actually barely a third occupied. The area was a fair size, with a nice mix of seating, a bar area, hot and cold buffets and some coffee shops. That said, some of the fixtures and fittings were a bit worn out, with some ripped seats, carpet stains and blocked toilets. I plumped for a big, unripped comfy armchair, dumped my bag (I presumed the usual concerns about leaving your stuff lying around in airports didn’t apply in a lounge) and immediately headed for the bar and poured myself a respectable glass of Heineken. Encouraged by my non-foamy success, I soon headed back for a second, along with a whisky soda. Seeing all the self-serve optics made me wish I’d brought my water bottle, although it was only Teacher’s.
There was a reason for the blistering drinking pace, as I wanted plenty of time to potentially sober up a little before departure, so I had resolved to only drink for the first hour or so, (although obviously I wanted to get my thirty quid’s worth!). Pleasantly relaxed by a few drinks and having enjoyed a bit of my book, I decided to head for the hot buffet. The selection was ok at first glance, but closer inspection showed the offerings in the large bowls wasn’t what you might have hoped; the penne bolognese was just very dry, meatless pasta, and the sweet and sour chicken was essentially a bowl of green beans which needed a magnifying glass to find any chicken in. And after heaping my little plate with as much as I could balance on it, I also found it was all pretty lukewarm. The curry soup was nice though, and I took a few bowls of that. I sampled the cold buffet after, which was a decent selection of meat and cheese, breads, salads and vegetables. Plus some brownies and donuts, which I should have left alone but obviously did not. Twice. And after having spent a few hours trying to get my money’s worth in food and drink, I was happy to retire to a quiet corner and continue with my book for the remainder of my visit, especially as the lounge was starting to fill up considerably. Much better than GNV, not quite as good as EDI.
Wined and dined after a few hours in the lounge, I headed for my evening flight to Vienna. Opted for an aisle seat, as I didn’t think the views on my 10:20 pm arrival would be particularly interesting, plus I wanted a quick deplaning in order to head to try and reach my hotel before midnight. Another cheese sandwich was on offer, which I didn’t need at this stage, and the flight was pretty uneventful otherwise.
Had only visited VIE once eight years previously, so I didn’t remember much about the layout. What I had forgotten was how utterly spotless the place was. The luggage was available pretty quickly after landing and I was through arrivals in plenty of time for my super-cautious 23:19 train booking to the city. Although almost all of the shops, cafes and restaurants were closed at this time, I took the opportunity to do a bit of scouting for my pre-departure shopping next week.
212 Vienna-Amsterdam (KLM): For the return to VIE I didn’t bother going through the city, instead opting for a direct Flixbus from Most SNP in Bratislava. The journey was a little less lively than the bus to Bratislava a few days earlier, when the booking computer had placed me in the middle of a German hen night, who had happily shared some schnapps and snogs en route. I was a little too cautious in the timing of the booking, arriving at VIE well ahead of time. But at least this meant I could get a few more radlers for my checked bag and a belated first schnitzel from the airport supermarket. There was a brief flashpoint at the check-in counter, when the agent realised the French couple in front of me were not entitled to be using the priority bag drop, and gave them a good scolding in front of the lengthy queue. Security was a scoosh, leaving plenty of time to browse the retail options. Picked up a few gifts for friends and family, and I was also tempted by an ice-cold glass of lager at the little bar beside my gate.
The flight was one of those ‘lawless’ ones where it seemed nobody cared about anything. The passenger behind me had somehow gotten a carry-on bag the size of a coffin onboard, which was so big it barely fit under the seat in front of me, before the cabin crew advised it would be a lot better in the luggage bin. A woman in the row in front of me had to be told three times to put her tray table up before landing, and then put it back down again anyway as soon as the cabin crew were seated. Sandwiches were cheese again, but this time I remembered to turn mine down to save my appetite for the Crown Lounge again.
213 Amsterdam-Edinburgh (KLM): Today I had an even longer transit time of over five hours, which had made me wonder about maybe leaving the airport for a flying visit to Amsterdam, Haarlem or even Zandvoort. But then I remembered I had bought a bottle of schnapps at VIE, which I would now lose if I left the airport and then had to go back through security, so that plan had to be scrapped. The queue at the border was non-existent, (which was most un Schipol-like), on the one day I was in no rush whatsoever.
The non-Schengen Crown Lounge was at least twice the size of the Schengen one I had visited last week. This time I would have to eat and drink even more in order to get my forty-two quid’s worth. Despite the bigger size, everything else was pretty much the same as the other one with a few additional perks; the bar had zero-alcohol Heineken, (which was served in a glass with a massive chunk out of the rim), and there was an outdoors terrace to enjoy your drink in the sunshine (which was closed). The hot buffet was barely warm again. This I could put up with, but what I could not deal with was the incessant background music. I couldn’t remember if there had been music in the other lounge last week, but wherever I went today I could not escape it, roaming endlessly from one end of the lounge to the other with my book and beer trying to find a quiet spot. Eventually I gave up and left the lounge after only ninety minutes, and opted for a quiet corner of the airport library on Holland Boulevard instead.
Flight home was fine (cheese yet again), but as always EDI had some late night ineptitude to show us on arrival. This time it was the ‘no gate agent to lead us to the terminal’ routine, which I’ve already had a few times. As the minutes ticked by and we waited impatiently on the aircraft to deplane, I could see the luggage was already being unloaded; at least someone was getting off the fucking aircraft. Fifteen minutes later a member of ground staff eventually arrived to guide us from our aircraft that had arrived exactly when it had been expected to. At least there was no queue at the border, which led to everyone ducking under all the barriers en masse towards the egates, much to the annoyance of the one airport worker who was trying to control us. If I could arrive at any other airport I would.
Edinburgh-Geneva (Easyjet): After the KLM flight to Amsterdam, the Easyjet flight to Geneva must be my second most travelled route. EDI wasn’t as busy as I might have expected for a Saturday morning on a bank holiday weekend. Having gotten through security without any fuss, I found my usual quiet spot out on the East pier, where I noted with alarm that there was a large stag party about to board the morning flight to Berlin at Gate 18. Since I would be getting on the same flight next Saturday morning, I hoped this wasn’t something I’d be seeing next week. Whilst waiting to board, for some reason I randomly decided to buy my first ever copy of National Geographic from the newsagents.
Once onboard I was delighted to find that, despite being a fairly busy flight, I had achieved the holy grail of an empty row. There was a little bit of pre-flight chaos before we got under way though. Firstly, there was an argument involving someone in the exit row behind me, who objected to being told to put their bags and coats in the locker for takeoff. Then a young man decided to move seats before takeoff, earning a stern lecture on weight and balance from the crew. With all these issues, shoutout to veteran cabin manager Julie, a no-nonsense ginger weegie who was taking no shit from anyone and soon put everyone in their place (literally!). There was also a slight departute delay due to the ongoing French air traffic controllers strikes. As the captain pointed out, it would be hard for us to get to Switzerland without flying over France, but they would do their best to make up the time en route.
In recent months I’ve been tending towards booking aisle seats, as I’ve seen (and filmed) most of Europe from the air by now. Plus I don’t trust my ageing bladder to last two hours. But I’ll always make an exception for flying into Geneva, which is always great for the views. And having an empty row, (along with easy toilet access), I decided to treat myself to a beer. Easyjet were now stocking Jubel, a peach lager which I’d had the pleasure of sampling when the rep had come into my local recently. With an empty row, fruity lager and stunning mountain views, the flight was about as pleasant as it could be.
When we arrived at GNV last year I had seen the new terminal building that had been built since my last visit pre-Covid. I had a lot more time to admire it this time, as the queue for the border was pretty lengthy. In fact, it was so lengthy that I was starting to get seriously worried about making my connection across town to Annemasse and my train onwards into the Alps. Twenty-five minutes later though and I was through, and was heading into town with just enough time to briefly admire Lac Leman en route to France.
Geneva=Edinburgh (Easyjet): After a pleasant few hours in the Geneva sunshine, it was time to head back to GNV for my flight. Security was pretty quick, and might have been even faster if the woman in front of me hadn’t been trying to enter the security area by scanning the barcode on her luggage receipt stuck to the back of her passport. How do some people even get dressed in the morning, let alone travel to another country…
The last time I’d departed from here I’d had the dubious pleasure of Swissport’s underwhelming lounge. Today I would have to entertain myself, and was reminded how appallingly expensive this airport was. Fortunately I’d had the foresight to purchase a sandwich and snacks from Lidl in the city before heading out here, but I still had to fork out £4 for a bottle of water. After boarding, by some miracle I found that once again I had achieved the holy grail of an empty row. This meant another can of Jubel for the flight home, which was otherwise uneventful.
Edinburgh-Amsterdam (KLM): Just for once I decided to mix things up a bit by getting the afternoon flight to Schipol. It would be slightly more expensive, but that was ok as I had my £25 discount voucher that KLM recently gave me for my birthday. As it turned out the voucher didn’t work, but I was glad of the long lie for a change. The later departure also meant that for once I could also get a bus into town with my checked bag full of Irn-Bru for a certain someone. I forgot about some of the recently acquired perks of my silver status though, arriving at EDI a lot earlier than I needed to considering I had priority baggage drop and wouldn’t need to queue. The airport was a bit busier than I might have expected on a Thursday afternoon in March, but not so busy that I still couldn’t find a quiet corner to wait in peace.
Another of my recent perks is priority boarding, the operation of which remained something of an enigma. I can’t remember any announcements or signage telling me that I was welcome to board at my leisure, but I wasn’t really bothered anyway, as I only had my small cabin bag. There was a slight delay after boarding, as our departure was held due to heavy traffic at AMS. The only other excitement onboard the short hop across the channel was wondering if it would be the cheese (yay!) or the egg mayo (boak!) sandwiches. Beemsters won out this time, meaning I didn’t have to discreetly drop my sandwich into my bag for disposal later on.
The delayed departure didn’t have much effect on the flight time, but the wait at the baggage carousel did. Luckily I had rather prudently booked my train to Rotterdam for a full hour after arrival, so when my bag finally turned up I still had plenty of time to peruse the options at Schipol Plaza before catching my train.
Amsterdam-Edinburgh (KLM): Much as I love some of their train stations, I do find the workings of Nedelandse Spoorwegen a bit of a mystery sometimes. With a few hours to kill in Rotterdam before my train to Schipol, naturally I hoped to leave my bags in one of the station luggage lockers. The only problem was that the lockers were beyond the ticket barriers, something I have never seen in a single train station in all my travels across the globe. Could I use my tickets barcode to enter the station, deposit the luggage, exit the station, then re-enter it again a few hours later? I had my doubts, so I asked one of the staff at the ticket barriers. Rather than answer, he took my phone from me, waved it at a gate and pushed me through it. I guess I would find out the hard way. Turned out I was able to re-enter again later, but it still seemed very strange.
Another mystery was what happened to my direct train. Having collected my bags, I scoured all the departure screens for any sign of my express, but neither the train, its departure time or its service number were anywhere to be found. I eventually gave up and found an alternative which would take three times as long and stop at almost every station in both Zuid and Nord Holland en route, but I had plenty of time to spare (more than I realised as it turned out…)
There was still time for a little pre-departure shopping before checking my bag, so I purchased a few last cans of beer from Albert Heijn (which I’m sure I was undercharged for). Having repacked my checked bag with the extra beers, I headed upstairs to deposit it. There were plenty of staff available at desks 12-15, however, only one of them seemed to be doing any baggage checking. Fortunately enough they were kind enough to let me intrude on their conversation for a few moments to check my luggage and head off to departures. Security was a little better, where the multi-tasking staff there were able to have a conversation and process passengers at the same time. The border could have done with one or two more officers though; if you’ve got time to count the fifty-three people in front of you in the queue, then the two open desks are probably not enough.
But time was not an issue this evening. Having made a few small purchases, I was then alerted to the fact that my flight was delayed by fifty minutes. This was due to the flight crew being delayed on an earlier flight they were operating. Schipol is a great airport with many facilities, but nobody needs an extra hour in any airport anywhere ever, especially when one of the few things still open is the Heineken Bar. The delay turned out to be a little over an hour, longer than the actual flight (and its cheese sandwich, yay!)
As frustrating as AMS can be though, EDI was all set to outdo it in a late-night show of hopeless incompetence. Witness the twenty minute wait for a set of stairs to get us off the aircraft. Be astonished at the half-hour wait at the UK Border. Marvel at the further forty minutes for baggage. A shambolic excuse of an airport, which I dearly wish I could avoid using sometimes.
Edinburgh-Madrid (Easyjet); I was pretty annoyed when my original flight for this was cancelled and I was rebooked onto one the day before. An extra night’s accommodation to pay for, another day of spending money to add to the budget and another valuable day of annual leave swallowed up. That said, come the day of the flight, I wasn’t terribly unhappy to be travelling just after lunch on a thursday rather than a dawn departure on a friday, so maybe the change was no bad thing.
EDI was a bit busier than I might have expected for the time and day of departure. And unlike the dozzy heights of my last trip, there was no lounge access or business upgrades today, just a Boots sandwich in a quiet corner and waiting for the gate announcement. When it came to boarding, I amused myself by playing Easyjet bingo; original flight cancelled? Yup. Bins full of coats and jackets? Yup. Spurious announcement about someone with a nut allergy onboard? Yup
The flight was fairly full, and it felt even more so with the gentleman sitting beside me having particularly wide knees and elbows. But there were some fine views en route as we hugged the almost perfectly straight line of the French Atlantic coast before crossing the western edge of the Pyrenees. And as it was my birthday trip I treated myself to a can of Rekordilig whilst I enjoyed the views.
Adolfo Suarez Madrid-Barejas was a new airport for me, and it was nice to see a few unfamiliar tailfins as we taxiid across the apron. The terminal was pretty big, but not too crowded, with hardly any queue at the border. But once a crowd started building up, extra border officers quickly appeared to alleviate the situation, an absolutely mad idea that will never catch on.
Once through the formalities, finding the metro station to head into town was quite the mission, involving a lengthy hike and a fairly useless information desk assistant. But I got there eventually and managed to work out how to use the ticket machines. There was, however, a brief moment of alarm en route when the first station name didn’t seem to match the network map, but it was all fine.
Santander-Edinburgh (Ryanair): Seve Ballesteros-Santander was another new airport for me, the 50th I’d flown from as it turned out, and the first one I’d had named after a golfer. And very conveneintly located it was too, just a fifteen minute ride from the bus station for a few euros.
Having looked at the flight schedule I wasn’t expecting anything particularly grand or lavish, and I wasn’t disappointed. The terminal building was at least modern, if modest. Security was a matter of minutes, although I was a bit surprised at being asked to take my trainers off. Post-security, there was a small duty-free store and a little cafeteria. Not the smallest airport I’d been in, but definitely on the petite side. Not the most organised either, as once the flight began boarding, the regular queue somehow ended up on the aircraft before the priority one.
The flight was routine, with the only incident of note being two particularly brain-dead flight attendants struggling to understand my seatmate’s request for some chips. I listened with growing exasparation to the exchange, with one of them trying to explain that there was only chips with the chicken nuggets and that they couldn’t be separated. I was almost at the point of screaming SHE MEANS CRISPS FOR FUCKS SAKE, SHE’S SPANISH, THEY CALL THEM CHIPS when dumb and dumber finally got the message, and provided her with a pipe of Pringles.
Edinburgh-Milan Malpensa (Easyjet): With the sound of Sophie Ellis-Bextor still ringing in my ears from the previous night’s gig, I was understandably distracted on the bus to the airport this morning. So I was surprised to find the bus reaching Newbridge roundabout, before looping back onto the A8 and back the way we had come. Was the driver daydreaming,.or hungover? Nope, he was simply avoiding the small lake that had formed on the usual slip road during yesterday’s biblical rain.
This was my first time flying on NYE for three years, and I had forgotten how busy the airport can be. I had also forgotten what a busy airport actually looked like, having worked at GLA for the last few weeks. Security was a little longer than normal, but still better than most UK airports (it would have been slightly quicker if some prick hadn’t ignored the staff and pinched my assigned space at the belt). With the airport being a bit busier I decided to forego my usual cider at the pub in order to have something on board instead, and opted just to wait in a quiet corner until boarding.
After boarding, I was slightly surprised at my two seatmates offering to go sit somewhere else if the flight was quiet, why would they say that? Perhaps the young couple had something sordid in mind to pass the time (I actually saw them the next day in Como, but they didn’t spot me). The flight was full anyway, but at least I was sitting near the last few rows, which would mean I would get served my postponed cider quicker. Or so I thought. The cabin crew shot past everyone without any warning, before being stopped about six rows further on. The fact that they were both wearing masks didn’t help, as nobody heard them offering drinks and snacks as they went on their merry way. A swift and unflinching zero for the crew in the skytraxx review. But hang on…fifteen minutes later they were asking pax again as they made their way back to the aft galley. Yet despite trying to attract their attention they drifted past without a care in the world, deeply involved in their own conversation. Incredible. Their zero was now in minus figures. As Easyjet weren’t usually this woeful, I put it down to the fact that this was an Easyjet Europe flight, where presumably customer service is allowed to plummet to British Airways levels of uselessness.
After the non-service, I drifted off for a while, which was surprising as I’d had a good night’s sleep and an 11.45 departure is hardly a redeye flight. Fortunately I woke just in time for some splendid views over what appeared to be my destination, Lake Como (a quick check of the route on Flight Radar confirmed this).
Arriving at Malpensa the airport was a bit bigger than I expected, but fairly modern-looking and stylish, which I probably should have expected. The sculptures and photography exhibitions were also unexpected too, but again, probably should have been. After all, this is a stylish country. The border was a bit strange though; I was surprised to be directed to the egates with my British passport, as I knew that I now needed stamps upon entry/exit from the Schengen Zone. And sure enough, having been checked at the egates, the screen then instructed me to go to the desk to have my passport stamped. What was the point in even going through the egates, why not just send me straight to a desk in the first place…
Milan Malpensa-Edinburgh (Easyjet); A dawn departure is nothing new, but it was quite a while since I’d done it on a return flight. As I’d never been to Italy and used their trains before, I decided to spend the previous evening in Milan at a hotel near the train station, rather than risk any issues making my way from Como at 5am. As it turned out there were no problems with the trains, and I made sure I was extra early anyway so that I could take some pictures of the magnificent Milano Centralo station.
The airport wasn’t particularly busy when I arrived, although security seemed a bit crazy and chaotic. It was better than it looked though, and I was through in ten minutes, before once again going through the pointless routine of using the egates then being told to go get a stamp in my passport. Are Italian border officers incapable of just checking a passport, or did the Italian government spend so much on the egates that they feel they need to make the most of them?
It was quick though, which meant plenty of time for a little duty-free shopping. Being a sizeable airport, I assumed Malpensa would still have a sizeable selection of shops, restaurants and bars post-Schengen border. But you know what they say, never assume as it makes an ass out of u and me. Although the non-Schengen area was fairly sizeable, sadly the retail options were not. A scooter-shaped fridge magnet and a panini were all I had to show for my visit.
The flight was fairly routine, tbough I was surprised to once again doze off for a short time after take-off, as again I’d had plenty of sleep the night before. The crew were a little more attentive with their service this time but I wasn’t in the mood for anything. So I spent the remainder of the flight organising the pictures and videos on my phone, and landed with the glow of satisfaction of someone who has all his photos edited and ready to post on social media. There was practically no queue at the border on arrival, and the inevitable finally happened when I met a colleague I knew from border force. I suppose that, statistically, it was bound to happen, I suppose I was just surprised it hadn’t happened sooner…
Gill 9A 