Love is in the air

Please let me introduce you to the new girlfriend of our stock-broker-ducky. The hooter-ducky from St. Thomas, BVI!

Time to pick up Mr. Incredible at the airport last night, after his yearly one-week macro-economic-update-business-trip to China. I guess it would be much more efficient for him to take the airport train, but I have missed him so much. I even have trouble sleeping when he is away. It is just too quiet without this (adorable) snoring "sawmill" next to me. Funny how you get so used to habits that are -  in reality - truly annoying - that you actually end up kind-of loving them. Weird.

Anyway. I always arrive early when picking someone up at the airport. As this is one of THE BEST places for people-watching. It is like going to the movies. There is romance. There is comedy. There is drama. And - sometimes - there is tragedy. Here you get to see it all. All mixed together in what starts off as a thriller.... The sliding doors between the customs area and the arrivals area opens and.... (drumwhirls)... What do we have? This is SO exciting! It is like that game show where you select a door - you never know what is behind it. Oh, the suspense! The thrill!

What we do know, though, is that - in general - there are two main categories of arriving passengers. Each of them are very easy to identify once the sliding doors after customs open:

1) The ones that do not expect anyone to meet and greet them. These people stare directly into the floor (as if they are concentrating on something very important), and hurry straight for the train (left), or the parking lot (either direction).

2) The ones that expect someone to be there - waiting. For them. When the sliding doors open, these people stand there like a deer in the headlights. Totally vulnerable. Glued to the spot, with eyes flickering, as they scan the waiting crowd outside customs to find a familar face.

The first group of people is not so interesting. Except for the fact that their strong urge to AVOID EYE CONTACT AT ANY COST, sometimes may result in chaos. By focusing SO hard on the floor, they sometimes end up crashing their luggage carts into parts of the waiting crowd. Then you will hear some quiet cursing, before the lonely looser keeps on walking straight towards his or her preferred means of onward transportation.

The other group, however, gets to me every time. I tend to get quite depressed by watching the news, as I think that there is far too much evil and hatred in this world. But seeing people meet up with their loved ones at the airport almost makes me believe in the world again. When I see all these people hug, kiss, cry (happy tears!) and laugh together, it gives me a trace of hope. Maybe this world is not so f***ed up after all? I actually get all warm and fuzzy looking at all the family re-unions, and lovers meeting up after time apart.

Hm. Well. I guess I have to admit that there is an evil side to me, too. You need to look at some of these constellations with a sense of humor. Because - there really are some odd couples around. Oh yeah. You might think you have seen it all, but really, you haven't. But - they love each other, and that is all that matters, really.

Then, there are the families. There are some pretty funny family resemblances around, too. When you have been staring at that truly STRANGE guy with the funny head for a while - and suddenly FIVE more equally strange guys with the same funny head turn up? I try to behave and not laugh out loud, though. But sometimes I just cannot help myself. I apologize. It is just me taking out my insecurities on other people, I know. But. Oh. So. Funny.

Like in the movies, not all arrivals have a purely happy ending. Fortunately, these do not occur as frequently.

One of these are the "guilt-trippers". Very often carrying huge expensive presents for their loved ones. Because they have either simply been away too long. Or maybe they have a guilty conscience. For some reason. These people look really worried, sometime straight out TERRIFIED when the sliding doors open.

The final group of people is the one that my heart goes out to. These are the passengers that do BELIEVE someone is there to meet them. But then - nobody turns up. I sometimes feel like walking up to these people to give them a hug. They look so lost and confused, bravely gripping their luggage cart - knuckles whitening - as if that cart is all they have left in this world. All the while with this look of abandon on their faces. Fortunately, with the excellent mobile devices available on the market today, these incidents do not happen that often. And if they do, the abandoned passenger has a way to quickly regain his/her composure. As they can now immediately call up the "no-show" sucker that was supposed to pick them up, and yell at him/her. Sweet.

I wonder why people still pay to go to the cinema. The airport is just so much better.

Is this your dog?

Just got back from Copenhagen. Partner training with Oracle. I almost managed to stick to my new principle established just before Christmas, that I will never again stay more than 10 minutes on Danish soil before I bite into a red hot-dog. I missed it by merely two minutes this time, only due to a very urgent visit to the little girls' room on my way to the baggage claim area. Where the first hot-dog stand is located. I simply love Denmark! Anyway. I guess I should adjust my time limit to 15 minutes, to allow for such basic needs to be met. I have no desire to be known as "the-girl-who-wet-herself-while-eating-a-hot-dog".

I have noticed a new trend this week. Nowadays, it is apparently perfectly ok for taxi drivers to be speaking on the phone - during the entire ride. I quite enjoy listening in on other people's conversations, but when they are in a very (!) foreign language, it can also be kinda scary. As you get only parts of the picture, and then you have to imagine the rest. For instance, in Oslo, I overheard this one (please feel free to replace whatever Panjabi you may know with my "blahblah"):

Bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla -BESØKSFORBUD*-bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla.

WHAT the F***?! Did I just hear that? In the middle of all of that blabla? Who got the restraining order? The driver? Ohmygodohmygod. I was pretty happy to arrive at my destination after that one. You really do not want to know all the thoughts that ran through my head after that ONE WORD.

On my way to Copenhagen from the airport, I got:

Bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla  bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla - LUFTHAVNEN** - bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla.

That one is fine. Of course, he was just telling his buddy about this really HOT BLONDE that he had just picked up at the airport. Cool. Still, I wonder. When they have a phrase for "hot blonde" in Panjabi, why is there no word for something as common as "airport"? Are there more hot blondes than airports where these guys come from? Maybe.

Cute hotel in Copenhagen, especially for a business trip. It was extremely ecological, and the smell of insence hit you like a wall when you entered. They did not even have wireless internet. As I guess that could cause inbalances in your chakras. Or whatever. It was pretty much full of what my hero Cartman (South Park) would refer to as "all a bunch of hippie-crap". But. Oh. So. Stylish.

I must tell you what a good girl I have been on this trip, though. The only shopping was a new tax-free hot pink lipstick on my way out of Oslo. And - of course - my MANDATORY tax-free quota (four bottles of Louis Roederer, the "little brother" of Crystal) on my way home. But wine does not count.

This was a near-miss though. As I almost got into a cat-fight with a woman in the Burberry shop at Kastrup. Over a HANDBAG. A BURBERRY handbag - if I might add. At 50% off. In the end, I let her buy it. She was bigger than me, so she could easily have kicked my behind. And, by the way, I recently had my nails done. She just was not worth a possible nail breakage. Of, course, I gave her my very worst version of the evil eye. Before MARCHING out of the shop. With my lovely LV roll-aboard in tow. Hah! Just watch me NOT care. When someone as innocently looking as myself gives you the evil eye, I promise that it makes quite an impression. I hope she will remember that look every time she looks at her gorgeous handbag. Bitch.

I was not randomly picked for a manual security search at the airport on my way home tonight. And it was kind of a disappointment. I guess I have been home alone too long. Good thing Mr. Incredible will be back tomorrow night. I even miss watching soccer on TV now.

* Restraining order (in Norwegian)
** The Airport (in Danish)

Winter "geek-off"

Choosing the right shoes for a weekend away is not easy. With the autumn kick-off packing disaster still in memory, I was a bit worried. Would I manage to get it right this time? (I mean, WHO in their right mind brings a sequin jacket, but NO SLEEPING BAG when going sailing on a tall ship?). The result was, of course, som SERIOUS over-packing this time around. You know, just in case. Still, I managed to restrain myself - at least to some extent. Limiting myself to just five (!) pairs of shoes. Including the pair worn to work on the day. But - EXCLUDING my ski boots. Do those count as actual SHOES or are they categorized as skiing equipment? I do not know.

Time for the winter kick-off with my lovely colleagues. After a pretty tough (but exciting!) week at work, I considered staying at home to get some rest - and nurse my cold. That might have been the really sensible and grown-up thing to do, but I guess you will know by now that those two words are very rarely used when describing yours truly. Girls just want to have fun. And since Mr. Incredible would soon be in a different time zone, me staying at home feeling sorry about being alone and abandoned would be straight out silly. I am a bit of a social animal. I do not do "alone" that well. AND - I am afraid of the dark. Meaning that being all by myself in an empty apartment would not be my idea of the perfect weekend. And - finally, I guess everyone must surely have forgotten my "overly charming" attendance at the Christmas Party by now, right?

I am very glad I decided to go, as these gatherings are always a lot of fun. I am actually very impressed by how the company I work for have been able to hand-pick all of these fun and incredibly intelligent party animals. But somehow they did. Amazing. I should perhaps also mention that my colleagues are all also very positive/including and do care a lot about each other. Oh, and I forgot. They are also extremely good-looking. And great dancers. It does not get much better than that, I'll tell you.

We left by nerdmobile (bus) from the office after work on Friday. And we got about half-way, before our bus broke down. Fortunately, we had another one right behind us - with room for all the nerds (but not the luggage), so we still made it to the hotel on time. Dinner was served in a "lavvo". This is a huge (Sami-inspired?) tent, with an open fire in the middle. Where we roasted meat. Very Norwegian. Very smoky. To the extent that I still think my hair smells like an old fire. Although washing it four times since Friday night. After dinner it was time for the yearly "awards ceremony". Two from my team were nominated for the individual awards, and one even won her category. And to top that - quite a few from our team were  also involved in what was awarded the "Project of the year". I am quite proud of being part of such a great team.

Our left-behind luggage arrived with dessert. Nice to be able to change out of the smoky attire from the tent dinner, to go to the night club. Which was closing just as we were all reaching Nirvana. Have you ever noticed how Friday nights out always seem so short? Fortunately, we were all invited for an after-party at one of the apartments. With champagne! When I went to bed at 5.30 AM, I had been awake for 24 hours straight. which seemed to be just what the doctor ordered. Because - guess what? My two-week-old cold had finally vanished. Hah.

By some miracle, I woke up at 8.30 AM without having set the alarm, just in time for the Saturday sessions. After lunch we had time available for skiing. IF we felt like it. As my skiing helmet felt a bit tight at that time, I felt more like sleeping. And since I did not go skiing, I did not think I deserved to go after-skiing either. (Without the skiing, it would just be "after". Or maybe I should have introduced the new concept "after-nap"? Where people would wear pajamas, instead of ski attire? Could be a winning formula, I don't know.)

Without the kick-start of the after ski party, Saturday evening was pretty quiet. Of course, there was an after-party. But I was sound asleep in my bed by then. I just do not have the stamina to party heavily two nights in a row. (Just for the record, this is not an age issue. I never could not do this - even at nineteen.)

Funny though, that during Sunday breakfast I happened to hear about me being at the party the night before. Have I started sleep-walking to after-parties now? I surely hope not.

Sunday was spent eating, skiing, then eating some more, before skiing again, then getting on a bus for a couple of hours - to get home. A bus containing a group of nineteen very silent colleagues. And one guy eating crisps. Loudly. I guess it must have been all the fresh air that drained us of energy. We are not so used to The Great Outdoors, you know.

Although it is nice to be home again, it surely is boring being home ALONE. Good thing my dear husband will be home very soon. In just over 142 hours. I just cannot wait to pick him up at the airport next Saturday. Can I just stay in bed and sleep until then? Please?

Date night

Got home from Stavanger last night. Busy week, but I much prefer busy to slow. I just hate days when you sit in the office looking at the clock every five minutes. Although I can not really remember having a day like that in a very long time. It is like a distant dream - must be years away from now.

Spent the week in a nice hotel in the centre of Stavanger. One that has tiny rooms, but they all do have fireplaces. Got upgraded to a double room. Yay. That one ALMOST had room on the floor for my open suitcase. Well, just almost. I guess I am a bit spoilt, as I have stayed in some pretty fabulous places in my time. Although very few - if any (!) - of these while traveling on business. Of course, I always obey the travel policies. So, as long as the room is clean (no bugs!) and the bed is comfortable (preferably with nice bed linens), and towels are not too old and stiff, I am totally happy. Hotels with nice toiletries always rank high on my list. But typical business hotels do not have any of that, as they cater to MEN. And men would happily wash their hair with toilet detergent, if that was the thing provided. So these hotels just do not bother.

A thing I really do miss when staying at hotels in Norway is what is referred to as "turn-down" services. Meaning that they close curtains, remove the bed cover, and - if you are really lucky - they leave a mint, or possibly also a little poem or gift on your pillow. Of course part of it is also changing the towels a second time. And - finally - they do that cute little folding of the end of the toilet roll. Neat. I thought I should perhaps start doing that at home myself. Yeah, right.

Anyway. Got through the week without attacking the mini bar. Although I heard this bag of tortilla chips whispering to me every night.... "Eeeeat meeee!". I am so disciplined, I know. Good thing there was no chocolate. Then I would have caved in. Easily.

I guess I should mention that I was pretty impressed when I saw that the minibar held a bottle of Bruno Paillard champagne. At a very reasonable price even. Well. I would never, ever allow myself to sit sipping champagne in a hotel room all by myself. In the middle of a work week. That would be just too sad. So I ignored all temptations, and tried to treat myself well by doing my nails or pampering my skin every other night. Not much else to do when you are all alone in another town and you have to get up at six the next morning anyway.

My flight home arrived 10 minutes early, and everybody in my row kept their shoes on during the entire flight. Could not believe my luck. I even got my luggage straight away. Not bad. I was home just in time to drop off luggage before dinner at Nodee with the love of my life. With me being away the whole week, and him leaving for a one-week business trip to China on Friday, we thought we should treat ourselves to a nice dinner date. So we did. Tempura, black cod (yum!) and crispy duck. With a nice bottle of Mersault. Everything was just perfect. Well except for the fact that we seemed to have picked what seemed to be "ladies night" at this place. So, we were seated next to:

• Behind me: A table of ten quite animated women, of which one had the most screeching voice, totally drowning out every other sound in the restaurant when she spoke. Something she did continuously.
• On my left: A woman exercising some "tough love" on her friend. She might have had the best intentions, but "tough love" combined with BOTTLES of white wine has never been known to be a winning formula. Needless to say, there was, of course, a lot of crying.
• On my right: "The commentators". Two women that felt it perfectly ok to comment on ANYTHING we were served. "Oh, look, their wine is in a carafe. Isn't that nice? Should we get one, too? What is that they are eating now? That looks good." Totally annoying. 

It is a good thing we do have a sense of humor. And that this was by no means our very first date. 

Come fly away with me

I must have been quite feverish yesterday. As THESE are my Marina Rinaldi boots from Barcelona. The Saturday ones are from Marina Rinaldi in Oslo. It really does not matter, I know. But I am an accountant by heart, so I have to get things right. Although, you really cannot blame me for getting these things wrong every now and then, can you?

Anyway. My fever is gone. By a miracle called Lemsip. Living in Norway, you cannot avoid catching a cold every now and then. Then I find it slightly annoying that you simply cannot get proper drugs to make a cold bearable in our freezing cold and terribly wet country. The thought behind it is perhaps that then we would be drugged down on cold medicine from November to mid May every year, but why not? Winter is terrible anyway. Fortunately, Miss London acted as my personal drug courier this weekend, as I had managed to empty my seemingly endless supplies of:

Alka Seltzer
Nurofen
Lemsip

I actually used to work in a place where one of the bosses fed us Lemsip if we happened to cough during year-end. Well. That's a whole different story. Point is - this works.

Meaning that I could travel to Stavanger this evening after all. Four full days of year-end fun ahead of me. You may think I am being sarcastic now, but I am not. Really. This is the very core of what I do, and working as a consultant, it is actually very healthy to work with something as real as this from time to time. Normally we are out the door well before the client starts using their solutions. So to me, being in the middle of a REAL reporting, it is actually really interesting. Sorry.

The flight, of course, was an adventure, as always. Upon arrival at the airport, I noticed that my suitcase was vibrating. This is not as exciting as it might seem, as it was just my electrical TOOTHBRUSH going at it inside my vanity bag. Awesome. Had to open the whole thing to shut it off, only to realize that battery would soon be flat. Just as well, as vibrating suitcases are not very popular with airlines these days. "Oh, we are sorry, madame, but we had to blow up your mysterious suitcase, as it was vibrating." Would have made an entertaining blog post, though. I could have considered making that sacrifice in the name of art.

I manage to get suitcase checked in, and survive security. For ONCE I was not so-called "randomly" picked out for a manual search.

We board the plane. And then I can feel it. The smell. The stench. Of the guy sitting next to me taking off his shoes. Please! What is the matter with these guys!? And why do I always get to sit next to them on the plane? For a trans-Atlantic flight for seven hours, yes. THEN, I do not mind if you take your shoes off. But NOT for a forty-minute domestic flight! It makes me sick, do you know that?

Once I was seated next to a guy that was wearing Doc Martens high tops. Shoes that. Do. Not. Breathe. At all. So, when this guy "made himself comfortable" I was THIS close to throwing up in his lap. Having worked at a chemicals plant, I have inhaled my share of toxic fumes (this fact might explain a thing or two). Still, nothing ever comes close to those shoes.

Arriving in hotel was heaven. If I could just sleep. Miss my husband. And I won't see him until Thursday. Weep.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Saturday Night Fever

Finding boots that will fit my rather "athletic" calves is always a struggle. So I stick to what works for me. Marina Rinaldi. Again. I bought this particular pair in Barcelona ages ago. Funny thing, these seem to have GROWN in my closet. Normally my clothes just shrink on their shelves, but these boots are now suddenly far too wide for me. I really should start searching for some new and tighter ones. In the mean time, they actually do work with my jeans tucked into them. A combo that does NOT look good on ANYONE, but wading around in the snow in Oslo these days, I have to sacrifice my fashion sense and go for sensible. I know I look like an idiot, but I stay warm and the hems of my jeans do not get all wet in the snow.

This weekend we were flying out to see our new niece, who was born last Saturday. I have been looking forward to seeing her since, well, I guess since I first heard about her, in May last year. That is, even before I even knew that she was - in fact - a she. Of course, that goes without saying, I have already bought her her very first pair of shoes. White Mary Janes. Size 17. Very tiny and very cute. Just like her. Anyway. Thing is, we are in the middle of the flu season. So life is a bit unpredictable. Husband fell ill on Wednesday. Meaning that it would just be a question of time before I got it. So, not a good time to be visiting a newborn baby, carrying all those viruses around. Sad.

Being in the middle of the year-end reporting, I forced myself to work with a slight fever for two days and expected the flu to come out in it's full glory on Friday night in front of the television. So that I could spend just my weekend being ill and not harm my invoicing ratio. Would be painful this early on in the budget, you know. Strange, though, how I can actually manage to trick my body. Although it tries to tell me to stay in bed, I just ignore all the signals. And, you know what? It seems to work pretty well. At least for a while it does.

When my London friend calls me on Friday evening telling me that she is coming to Oslo on a surprise visit the following day, I have a serious conversation with my body. The "being sick this weekend" plan is cancelled. Fortunately, with some help from my good old friend Ms. Paracetamol, it obeys. Reluctantly, but still. So, I manage to go to the big A-ha farewell exhibition with my mum on Saturday morning. And meet up with Miss London at my favorite restaurant in Oslo for lunch. The Brasserie France. A bit like Lipp in Paris, just without the obnoxious waiters.

Time flies in good company. Lunch lasted for three hours. With a glass of champagne and an update on what life has thrown at us for the last four months. Which turned out to be quite a lot. Then we hit the shops for an hour, before my friend had to go and get dressed for her surprise birthday party attendance out in the woods outside Oslo.

I got home. Crawled under a blanket on the sofa. And passed out. Husband forced me to check my temperature. Ouch. My body had stopped listening to me. Now I definitely had a fever.

Just have to get well in 24 hours, and I will be alright.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Mister Cab Driver

Running out of winter shoes..... I really miss my sandals now.

Today I had the weirdest morning. Absolutely SURREAL. I drove Mister Incredible to work, and arrived early at (Norwegian version of) Big Oil as I had quite a busy day ahead of me. Then I suddenly had to go back into town again on some urgent business (I guess I should point out that this was by no means the January shoe sales. Really.). So I decided to leave my car in the car park and take a cab back in, as traffic was really heavy, and it had started snowing.

I was overjoyed just to be able to get hold of a cab in this weather, so I got in, and very soon we were driving on the outer ring road. I sit comfortably in the back seat, writing an SMS, when I hear the cab driver:

"Ohmigod-ohmigod..."

BANG.

I saw it all in slow-motion, as a car hit us from behind/on the side. My first car accident. Ironically enough it happens on a day when I leave my own car parked temporarily as I feel it is SAFER to catch a cab. Just. Great.

And then I feel my neck stiffen on the left side, where the car hit us. Please.

The cab driver finally took me to the next gas station, but could not get hold of another car for me there, so he drove towards the next taxi stand. On the way, he flagged down another cab by honking at it ferociously. It stopped. Only to tell us that he had just discovered that he had a FLAT TYRE. So he could not take me. What are the odds of THAT?

Finally, we reach the taxi stand, and - lucky me - I got one of the many cab drivers with a degree in PSYCHOLOGY. After hearing the story about my splendid start to the day, he decided that most neck injuries, are - in fact - NOT REAL. No, they are psychosomatic, and generally appear because we EXPECT them to. Ain't that swell? I immediately EXPECTED the pain to go away. But, since there might be a reason this guy is really driving a cab, and NOT doing 200-USD-an-hour psycholigical consultations, I do think he MIGHT be wrong in his assumptions. I don't know. Just a hunch.

To be on the safe side, I went to see my physician. He did not find anything seriously wrong with my neck. However, I must EXPECT to look a bit British for a few days now, as I may not be able to turn my head to the left without moving my whole body that way, too. Jolly good! I guess I am allowed to have a glass of red wine on Friday night. No, sorry, I guess we will have to make that PORT wine. Solely for medicinal purposes, of course.

Cheerio!

How my real life sucks. Sometimes.

Woke up this morning by my Tivoli clock radio playing my favorite song. "A perfect day" (Lou Reed). You gotta be KIDDING!!! My first working day after I get home from vacation, and this is what wakes me up! Pretty ironic, yes.

Oh, the pain. Had to cook breakfast myself. By maneuvering though the refrigerator to see what food was still edible. For humans. Met the remains of the rice cream from Christmas party on its way out of a box. Ready to go on a date with the remains of the raspberry sauce. Which was now GREY. Yuk! Then I had to hang up the laundry, and tidy up the kitchen. After I had spent half an hour converting my frizzy sun-bleached hair into something resembling something that might pass as proper "work" hair, I was ready to leave the house. Just to realize that. It. Is. Snowing. So my hair died instantly. THANK YOU!

It got worse. Stopped by our closest Deli Deluca (bad local copy of Dean and Deluca) to buy a new tram card. They were SOLD OUT. What?! I was then offered to buy single tickets, but they did not have the adult ones. Meaning that my next four days to and from work I would have to carry with me my SIXTEEN children´s tram tickets. And - worse - get them accepted on my expense report. HELLO?

On the tram I turned on my iPhone to calm myself down with some music. Only to realize that my headphones are now BROKEN. The bass is gone. Just perfect. To celebrate, I listened to "Sometimes it snows in April" (Prince). Saddest song in the world. One of the many that can make me cry. Only, funny enough, today it didn´t.  Really got me in the right mood, though. Oh. I feel SO SORRY FOR MYSELF.

Sometimes it snows in April
Sometimes I feel so bad, so bad
Sometimes I wish that life was never ending,
But all good things, they say, never last

Arrived at my client´s office. Fifteen minutes late, due to the hair and tram ticket disasters. And realized that I had left my glasses on the kitchen counter. Christ! Will this never stop?

Hm. Good thing I remembered to bring......

(drum whirls)

THE LARRY-BAG!!!

(ta-dah!)

Which is - of course - equipped with one extra pair of my contact lenses. I sent a warm thought to my new friends in California at that very moment. You truly saved my day. Things actually improved after that. This will all be ok. I just have to get used to it all again.

Desynchronosis, anyone?

Disembarkation in San Juan. So very sad. I just hate getting off the ship. Being on vacation, my dear husband and I seem to live in our own little "cocoon". And now we have to leave it. Weep. Even worse is saying "goodbye" to all the other very nice people we have been spending the last weeks with. Although, of course, there are always some that you will miss more than others.

Got on the fully booked tin of herring for a three-hour flight to Washington D.C. American Airlines have this excellent deal where they ask you if you would like to upgrade when you check in. Then you pay 120 USD. Only to get a big "NO" at the gate. Crooks. Now I have an upgrade credit on my AAdvantage frequent(?) flyer card that is valid for a year. Just what I needed. I just cannot wait to fly American again. They played this announcement before take-off showing a group of their employees saying "thank you" for flying American. You´re welcome! If it was really up to me - it will NEVER happen again. Only problem is that you seem to be the only carrier that can get me in and out of certain places where I really want to go. So, don´t flatter yourselves. Please. I only fly your airline BECAUSE I HAVE TO.

And - just for the record - do not EVER seat me in the last row next to the lavatories. Ever. Again. What a nightmare!

The only good thing about flying AA is that suddenly Scandinavian Airlines (SAS) seems like HEAVEN. Unbelievable, I know. It is just that after being treated like s*** by their flight attendants for years, I suddenly see them in a whole new light now that I am flying with my Eurobonus-Gold-husband. Guess what? We managed to be upgraded for miles this time. Bliss. Oh, and the SUNSET. Magnificent. No airline does sunsets like Scandinavian. Wow.


Actually, flying business like an extension of the "cruise cocoon". You are served food, they give you a blanket, and you can cuddle up while they turn up the heat to sauna level to get you to sleep (this is what they do on night flights). I was almost disappointed when I suddenly woke up and it was time for breakfast before landing in Copenhagen. Slept like a baby. When I was not working on catching up on my blog, that is. Wheew. The sacrifices I do for you. Right.

The last leg from Copenhagen to Oslo I was in a complete coma. Snoring and drooling on my husband´s sweater. In monkey class. I guess that did fit perfectly. Getting off the plane in Oslo really woke me up, though. Ouch! Coooooold! And did I leave my coat in the car? Yes.

Glad I managed to stay on the road, as the little driving I have done over the past weeks has been on the LEFT side of the road. Fortunately, it was just like riding a bike. My auto pilot knew how to.

Got home and did what you are so NOT SUPPOSED TO DO to avoid jet lag. Jumped straight into bed and slept until late afternoon. I have actually missed my bed and my lovely Ralph Lauren linens. And the best part - NO WAVES! This bedroom actually does not move. Awesome.

Really clever. Just hope I will be able to sleep again in five hours. Sometimes I can be sooo ridiculously lame. Duh.

Just another shitty day in paradise

New year's day. I guess we were actually anchored on the other side of the island early in the morning, but really, I would not know. New year's day tends to be a somewhat difficult day. Same this year, only you cannot stay in bed all day and feel sorry for yourself when you wake up in Paradise, can you? Even though my hair did hurt quite a bit this morning.

So, I forced myself into the shower, got on my beach gear, and jumped on the first tender ashore. To Prickly Pear. Time for the weekly Champagne and Caviar Splash again! I normally do not feel like eating much the day after a big party, but who can resist caviar? Not me. Champagne, however, I can resist. At least BEFORE lunch.


The big beach barbecue was much more relaxed this week, as I guess quite a few guests felt a bit "under the weather". And the sister ship was not joining us this week. Suited me perfectly. I sat "anchored" to a plastic chair in the shade forcing down a baked potato with tons of sour cream for a couple of hours, until I decided that a swim perhaps could help me feel better. It didn't. So, I had to cut my losses and drag my corpse back to the ship for a little siesta.

Slept for a couple of hours, and scratched my millionth mosquito bite. Mosquitoes (and all other tiny vampires for that matter) just love me. So when the neighboring little island is called Mosquito Island, there is no wonder my legs look like I have the plague. Awesome. Only good thing is that with all those bites I surely must have lost weight. In St. John I managed to get 23 - twenty-three - bug-bites just waiting ten minutes for the tender to get back on the ship. Yay. Nice to really feel loved. At least by some creatures.

Anyway. Time to get started on the saddest task of any vacation. Packing up your things to return home. The happy days are very soon over. Weep. And - as always, the shoes keep popping out of my luggage.


Had to sit on the suitcase to be able to close it. Of course.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:North Sound, Virgin Gorda, British West Indies

Alcoholics Synonymous

New Year's Eve! Big party on the yacht. Amazing to see all the other yachts anchored in the same bay. Unfortunately, my camera is no good in the dark, but you get an idea by looking at the late afternoon photo. As you can see, it was quite crowded.


The evening started with a special Asian gourmet dinner in the dining salon with Barbie and Ken (which are - of course - NOT their real names). Guess who turned up at dinner once again? Yes! Mr. Perignon! Only, this time he brought along his identical twin brother. Yay!

After dinner we joined the Asian theme party at the top of the yacht. It was already well on it's way when we arrived. People we practically SWIMMING in champagne up there. I guess this is where the French term for the old-fashioned wide/flat glass type "piscine de champagne" comes from, as "piscine" means "pool". You know what we say when we take a portrait picture these days? "Champiiiiiiiiis!". The good-old "say cheese" to get people to smile for a photo just does not do it around here.


And then Dom's brothers kept turning up. The sommelier surely had one busy night. In total we were introduced to six members of Dom's family (I think we are on first-name basis after that, even though Monsieur Perignon IS French).


In the end, I guess I did resemble the koala bear on my dear husband's shirt here. Only being under the Caribbean Champagne Tree rather than the Australian Beer Tree. Very cute, I know. But as you see in the picture, I was not alone. There was both a kangaroo and a sheep there as well. I believe we had a lot of fun. You know, we even danced The Macarena! Ehrm. And The Ketchup Dance. Oops.


I guess this would be the perfect occasion to use some of the new words I have learnt on this trip. Travel really helps broaden your horizons. You see, when you are on a ship with a lot of English-speaking passengers, you tend to pick up a word or two. Within my first twenty minutes on the yacht, I had already learnt FIVE new words for "drunk" from a British group that were on a mission to really enjoy themselves.

Knackered.
Hammered.
Blind.
Plastered.
Sloshed.

By the end of the trip I had learnt at least ten more.

Happy new year!



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Gustavia, St. Barthelemy, French West Indies