Lopez Island to Leipzig, Germany - October 12-14
The early fall weather on Lopez Island is quite pleasant right now. Cool, dry, sunny, calm. Swallows, vultures, hummingbirds, and other winged visitors have fled, leaving crows, ravens, juncos, and Anna’s Hummingbird to eke out the winter. We will eventually indulge in that tendency when we depart for California, but not just yet. First, we must run away from home again. This time for one week in Germany. It has been six months since we visited our excellent friends in Leipzig and we need to catch up. Tomorrow afternoon we’ll take a British Air flight from SeaTac, placing us in Leipzig sometime Monday.
We begin by leaving our island the day before our flight because we just don’t trust the ferry system to be on time. It may not even function well enough to get us to the mainland in time to drive to SeaTac the same day of the flight. Therefore, we plant ourselves in Seattle the day before flying. This has been standard procedure for the past few years, particularly after the Covid pandemic in 2020. It is Saturday, so we have all day to putz about. We decide to grab a couple of things at Costco, then go visit an elderly friend in Snohomish. I say elderly because she is older than we are and that is becoming a rare thing for us, if you know what I mean. She is creakier than when we last saw her but still ok and kicking up a little sand.
From there we consult Google for a route to Seattle. Griselda, the disembodied voice of Google, puts us on the old Snohomish-Monroe Road south the 522 connector which connects us to the infamous 405 which takes us south again toward Bellevue. Traffic is getting thicker as we go, which is as expected, but it seems to be at a level we associate with workday rush hour. Strange. It is early afternoon, and we are totally at leisure. We decide to make a dinner reservation at one of our favorite joints, Maximilien at the Pike Place Market. That means we must go west and cross Lake Washington. We peel off the 405 toward the 520 floating bridge just after we notice that the bridge is closed. They must be fixing something. This means that all the traffic will be focused on the I-90 bridge passing through Mercer Island. We encounter bumper to bumper traffic two miles from the on-ramp we need to take. Things are moving, but we think Mt Everest is eroding at a faster pace. Our reservation is at 5 pm. Our hopes sink as we begin to doubt that we’ll be on time even though we have over an hour to travel 8 miles. The issue, as we find out later, is a police chase that ended on I-90 on Mercer Island. A stolen Mercedes, two desperados with a bomb, lots of cops all came to a halt in the middle of the road. The bomb is a fake, the perps are nabbed, the car is wrecked. The freeway is closed while they sort it out. This happens well before we became part of the parking lot. We have no idea because we aren’t listening to the radio traffic reports. Instead, we are grooving to a jazz playlist on a streaming service.
Luckily, the traffic begins to move at a thrilling 10 mph and our hope is renewed. Griselda, with her super-confident vocal skills, directs us to the Pike Place Market where we find a parking spot 30 minutes ahead of our rez. It took us 2 hours and 15 minutes to come from Snohomish, 36 miles. Average speed: 16 mph. At the restaurant we are informed that our reservation was not confirmed by the computerized system. It did have my personal data and credit card, so the maitre’d or dining room boss, believed us. Since we check in early he finds a nice table for us anyhow. We have a nice French style meal with a prime view of Eliot Bay, with ferries, cruise ships, and the ferris wheel topped off by a lovely sunset over the Olympics. We give up our table 10 minutes before they promise to kick us out.
Our room for the night is the Hampton, near the airport. We will hang out there until mid-morning Sunday. That means we hit the hotel breakfast thingy they have in places like this. I’m always repulsed a little by the rubbery eggs and the greasy, tasteless sausage or whatever that is. The waffle batter and syrup stand next to the hot waffle iron. If there are kids in the house, this is where they can be found. The coffee is just dense enough to obscure the bottom of the cup and tastes more like rainwater dredged out of a low spot on the sidewalk. I exaggerate but not much. I often opt for the plastic cups of sugary yogurt, bananas, and apples. For protein, it’s back to the rubbery eggs.
We stash the car at a rental garage, shuttle to the terminal, and hang out until our long haul flight begins at 1 pm or so. Whenever I feel tedium invading my thoughts, I try to imagine what a voyage to Europe from Seattle was like in, say, 1880: a brutal, sea-sick, wind powered, terror infused ocean cruise for many weeks including a trip around the Horn of South America and the probability of being becalmed in steaming equatorial waters both on the southern and northern legs during which times the ship is surrounded by its own fetid discharges. Suddenly I feel much better about being flung through the atmosphere at 600 mph in an aluminum pipe and experiencing the minor inconvenience of sleep pattern interruption (jet lag).
I think this is my first experience with British Air. On most of our European trips we’ve used Iceland Air to take advantage of their no-charge stopover in Reykjavik. This time the choice is a more direct shot to Berlin with a plane change in Heathrow. We splurged for the business class, featuring the personal compartments with lie-flat seats on a Boeing 777 Enormo-Jet. The verdict is in: British Air is the gold standard for this kind of transport. The plane was spotless, all electronic features were in perfect working order, the cabin crew was tikkity-boo in all directions. Even the food was above average for airline fare (sorry, but airline cuisine will never earn a Michelin Star, I don’t care how it’s done).
Even though I have the option of curling up with an eye-mask, pillow, and blankie, I decline. I figure being awake for the entire 9 hours is my best choice. This isn’t so very hard to do because I don’t sleep well on aircraft. But to make certain I don't nod off, I poke the entertainment system until I find the 3 most violent movies on their playlist.
“Madam Web”: A story of sacrifice, humanitarian service, justice, and revenge. The good guy (in this case, good lady) stomps the snot out of the bad guy. The whole thing suffers from several scenes of weak script writing but it does have its ‘moments’. I label it 2nd rate action flick with a ‘B’-ish movie vibe.
Next, “The Beekeeper” starring Jason Statham, who is also the executive producer. The venerable Jeremy Irons is a bad guy ally who somehow escapes with merely a broken finger. This one is quite successful at keeping me awake. A few brief expository scenes at the opening to establish character and story-line, then a quick plunge into vigilante style, rage fueled, completely justified mayhem. The bad guys continually suffer for their sins throughout most of the film’s two hours as Statham’s character lays waste to every goon standing in his way. Jason-872, Bad Guys-0.
The last film is “Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare”, starring Who-Are-Those-Guys? This is based on Winston Churchill’s private notes which were declassified in 2016. The story is of a black-ops program run against the Nazi U-boat operation in the Atlantic. A group of misfits and killers ‘dirty-dozen’ their way to victory leaving a trail of jack-booted corpses in their wake. One of Churchill’s aides is Ian Fleming, yes THAT Ian Fleming. Henry Cavill is Gus March-Phillips, a disgraced British officer, widely considered to be the inspiration for Fleming’s super-spy character James Bond.
With an hour to go before landing I started “The Man From Uncle”, also starring Henry Cavill. Couldn’t finish this one because they kicked us off the plane and into the throbbing maw of Heathrow Terminal 5. Directly from thumping the pee-waddin’ out of evil-doers, my focus is swiftly bent toward getting our luggage pushed on toward the passport check. Once through this I presumed we’d be hunting our connecting flight to Berlin. Shouldn't be a problem with 110+ minutes to manage it, right? Guess again. We are directed to another security check, rather the queue for another security check. In Heathrow, apparently, there’s no route to connecting flights behind the security line. There are 300 people inching along through 4 scan lines. We miss our 8:55 am flight. We hop the next one at 11 am. We’re lucky we don’t have to wait until 5 pm. It’s a cramped economy seat for a 1.5 hour flight. It is a short flight but still long enough that many parts of my body are numbed from the experience and there are tooth marks in my fake knees.
The fun continues at the Berlin Airport when we join the queue for German passport control. We are at the tail end of a line of 150 being served by one agent. 45 minutes later 3 more agents show up and things begin to happen in a less demoralizing way. We cross, as free peoples, into Germany’s largest city after being in the queue for 1+ hour. However, we’re still at the airport. We need to get to the Berlin Hauptbanhof (main train station) and find the rail service to Leipzig. A taxi will do. Our driver is a naturalized German citizen originally from Egypt. He is loquacious. He entertains us with his awkward but effective English all the way to the station. We like chatty drivers when they are charming, and he was.
At the station, our train tickets come from a vending machine which would have been quite a challenge for us to navigate without the help of an agent to guide us through the menus. We’re riding 2nd class, which we haven’t done for a while. For the past several years all our train rides have been in 1st because we’re old and we’re splurging, right? This time we thought we’d save a dime since the ride is only 75 minutes. On board we are swiftly reminded that the seats are smaller, the leg room is short, the chairs are uncomfortable, and the cars are crowded. And there are children everywhere, it seems. By this time we’re feeling more that a bit wrecked, having been on the road in travel mode for 22 hours. CK has had a few winks of sleep, but I haven’t. I would have passed out on the train but I am too uncomfortable. It wouldn’t have been pretty, either. The snoring might have set off a terrorist alert.
At last, we pull into Leipzig station. We’re out in a wink, on the street doing the luggage drag across 4 blocks of cobbled road to Hotel Fregehaus, a boutique-ish place made out of an early 20th century building near the central platz. I like it much better than our original plan of staying in a corporate hotel. We dump our stuff, splash our faces, and head out to meet Joshua, Katherina, and their Squidlings at our official Italian hangout in Leipzig,
The Sardinia, just across from CK’s favorite church building Nikolaikirche. The staff there pretends to recognize us whenever we appear, which is usually at 12 month intervals. CK is convinced that they actually DO recognize us. The Squids conquer two pizzas while we adults attack some pasta dishes. There is wine but we only want sips. Food is kind of unimportant since we are busy hugging the fam and catching up. Helene has had an enormous growth sprint over the past 6 months. She seems 4 inches taller than when we last saw her. All her clothes are new as a result. Wille is still waiting for big changes. He’s 8. The Squids present us with flowers. We’re over the moon. We make it a short evening since we’re freshly wilted off the train, so to speak. The fam walks us back to our sleep.
We’re exploring new territory with this hotel. We booked it on the strength of its presentation online. Our room is spartan but clean and spacious. It has a certain ancient charm about it. The king bed has duvees. Our windows open to the courtyard, therefore we’re very quiet here. The bathroom is spacious, also, with a lovely shower and plentiful hot water. There is so much ceiling clearance that the mirror doesn’t fog when the shower runs. The steam towel rack works like a champ. This room is a winner. We have little time for evaluation because we are destroyed from lack of sleep and a full day of transportation adventure. We collapse directly, hoping for a solid night of unconsciousness.
Tuesday, October 15
Breakfast at the Hotel is a small buffet of cold items. There is no cooked to order breakfast which suits us well. We don’t need that. Coffee comes from the kitchen in a metal carafe. Tea is self serve on a separate table. The breakfast room is small, quiet, and civilized to a degree. Very nice. There is some mystery cheese in the mix requiring more investigation. Two kinds, one is red, the other is green. Now my idea is to text Katherina with a photo of it. We have done this before with mysterious food items we don’t recognize. It is usually a source of infinite mirth for her.
She responds instantly with “Don’t eat it!” followed by puke emojis. Too late. I already did. I ate the red kind. Maybe I’m out of the Matrix now and into the real world, idunno. Most probably my only experience here is an odd sense of disappointment. This cheese is dry like a piece of water color paper and tastes like modeling putty might if one should ever attempt to eat it. Since Katherina offered only advice instead of identification, I went to the AI section of the Web. The answer is that it is Rotklee (red stuff) and Grünklee (green stuff), sort of like the Tweedledee and Tweedledum of the cheese world. The odd ingredients are red clover and green clover. This knowledge causes me to think less evil of it but that doesn’t account for the fact that it tastes like art class construction material. I didn’t witness anyone else eating it although there were plenty of citizens in the room. Conclusion: This is inedible garnish like flowers in a vase, except that it happens to be cheese. I count my worldly experience expanded, albeit minimally.
Our experience with the hotel’s morning buffet is intentionally brief. We are to hop the tram from the Hauptbanhof to K&J’s house for brunch. That’s where we get the royal treatment, a lunchy breakfast with plenty of everything and it’s all awesome. Part of the fun is watching Wille and Helene devour mass quantities, a normal refueling procedure for an 8 and 10 year old in preparation for a day full of growth spurts and chaotic calorie burn. After brunch, all 6 of us take a 2 mile walk through the local nature preserve. The weather is lovely: sunny, dry, windless. J&K’s fiendish plan is to guide us past the local ice cream shop on the way back to the flat. This is a popular place even in October. The locals are queueing up outside the door to get in.
When my turn comes I order a dark chocolate ice infused with chili peppers. It has a decent kick in it, I think. Wille stuffs a large spoonful of it into his face shaking his head with a critical frown, meaning that this stuff is not even remotely close to being spicy enough for him. His father disabuses me of the idea that this 8 year old is anything like other kids his age who wouldn’t touch a dish spicier than mac & cheese. Our guy Wille regards the Scoville Scale as a challenge that will someday surrender to the strength of his manhood.
Back at J&K’s flat the Squids go into performance mode. They have prepared, in honor of our visit, a private music and poetry recital, which is highlighted by some original material. Wille dons his Master of Ceremonies attire complete with accessories: a walking cane and monocle. He commands the audience’s attention with his announcement of each piece his sister will perform on the piano. Helene plays a dozen pieces for us. They both worked very hard rehearsing for this and it is quite well done. When piano recital is finished, Wille reads a story he composed in English. Something about a dream he had. Hummingbirds were involved.
Then he goes to the piano to perform a piece he composed himself, something spooky with several tacit pauses. Both of them conspired to write a nice thought for us in English which they wrote on a sheet of paper. They both read from it in unison. The Squids are being very sweet and complimentary in our direction. They even called us Grandparents! Yikes! I think I'm gonna weep. Lastly, a command performance was requested of Wille to bring out his violin and play what he has learned so far. All of this for our benefit! This makes us a little bashful. We hope they know how much we appreciate it.
J&K’s fiendish plan for the evening meal is a German Fusion style restaurant Gasthaus Helmut. The owner, chef, cooks, and wait staff are refugees from the Westin hotel’s restaurant who found themselves unemployed when management and the head chef couldn’t agree on how to proceed. The restaurant closed and Helmut was born. These are Michelin Star level foodies who are experts when it comes to making lemonade out of lemons. We didn’t order lemons. What we got was top shelf service and an unforgettable meal.
Everyone ordered something different and each dish had its own amazing profile of flavors. “You gotta try this”, repeats around the table until we were all sharing bites from our meals. Not the most hygienic way to eat but, in this case, necessary. There are many restaurants in Leipzig but the best ones aren’t easy to find if you don’t know where to look. Joshua and Katherina really sniffed out a winner here. Gasthaus Helmut isn’t cheap but we think it is totally worth it. It may be even more expensive after the Michelin evaluators pay a visit and bestow a star or two upon it. If you are planning to be in Leipzig, we highly recommend.
A tram back to the town center puts us within walking distance of our hotel. A very fine day is finished with a sound, quiet sleep.
Wednesday, October 16
Another breakfast in our hotel’s salon. Coffee and small bites are all we need. Last night’s meal seems to have a lasting effect on our hunger response. We’re watching our text messages for the location of J&K and The Squids. They are coming to pick us up in their rented a van for a short road trip to Bad Düben. Our goal is the Heide Spa. Before we left Lopez Island we were advised to pack a bathing suit and this is why. Heide Spa is a fairly large communal bathing facility with a number of water features. The 4 star hotel here books guests who spend their entire time cavorting in the water and baking in the saunas. The Squids love it. With their fins and goggles they’re all splash and giggle weaving around the big pool like water snakes. CK wiggles with a pool noodle firmly attached ensuring she doesn’t get her head wet. I see bathers ranging from 20's to 50’s but they are outnumbered by children and the elderly. This is probably because this is Wednesday. Working folks are busy while kids are on a school holiday. My guess is that on weekends this place is packed. We were here once before, last April, and the scene was very similar. This time I go exploring the area marked as 'Sauna'. Through a door, I pass through a turnstile into another area kept separate from the main pool. The reason for this, I find, is because this is the co-ed nude zone. I was unaware of this. I presumed I would merely find a path to the sauna. Instead, there’s a bar, a collection of chaise lounges, an outdoor patio with another soaking pool, as well as showers, saunas, steam rooms, and solariums. All of it is populated by ancient, drooping, pot bellied, bare-assed physiques serving only to remind me how desperately clothing is needed by 99% of humanity just for esthetic reasons. Our hairless bodies just look like a kind of evolutionary mistake. I’m reminded of the six breeds of hairless cat. I want them all to wear sweaters. Nevertheless, if I’m going to use a sauna, I need to lose my trunks and go buff too. It’s the social contract here. But every sauna is over full for my taste. One of them is absolutely shoulder to shoulder, butt cheek to butt cheek with naked Germans. This looks, to me, like a Covid incubation experiment. I’ll pass.
Back at the main pool, the Squids are using their snorkel gear to look for CK’s lost earring. It is now their official mission and they are determined to find it. But, alas, the earring remains missing despite their efforts. It will turn up in the pool vacuum equipment tomorrow morning, says the fraulein at the desk. I’m not sure how CK plans to retrieve it, though.
After our soak at the spa, it’s a 40 minute ride back to Leipzig where we get a bit of a rest leading up to our evening plan, another restaurant experience cooked up by J&K. We hop the number 11 tram and meet them in the Gohlis neighborhood again. A short stroll through residential apartment buildings brings us to Salumeria Italiana. This is mostly and Italian delicatessen which happens to serve a little food. The menu is somewhat limited but there’s plenty to enjoy. We all shared an antipasti platter full of fresh goodies and a glass of Prosecco to wash it down. Squids had their own drinks, of course. It wasn’t pizza night, so that wasn’t available. Katherina and I had risotto with local mushrooms, Joshua had a pasta dish, CK and the Squids had a chicken & rice dish. All very scrumptious and satisfying. The conversation was lively as usual with lots of laughs and nonsense round the table. After dinner we walk to the tram stop as a full moon floats over Leipzig requiring a few feral howls, but not too loud. The neighbors are piled several layers deep around here.
More hugs at the tram stop and off we go in opposite directions. Our instructions are to meet J&K and the Squids down the block from our hotel at 9-ish in the a.m. with an appetite.
Our lovely hotel room should offer another night of quiet sleep. It was another great day with the Fam.
Thursday, October 17
No coffee for me this morning. Not yet, anyhow. There is no kettle with coffee packets in the room. Coffee is in the hotel breakfast salon but that’s not part of today’s plan. We’re meeting the Fam at 9 for a breakfast adventure in the Karli neighborhood. Wait. I’m up and ready to go a full hour before we meet J&K and the Squids. There’s time to hunt down coffee in one of the shops nearby. On the other side of the Milchbar Pinguinn is the Zuckerhut. I’m there just as it opens but stop myself before I reach the door. Riquet is just a few yards away. Yes! It has just opened. There is only one other customer. I’m number 2. A young lady featuring meticulous cosmetic enhancement uses her English to help the transaction. Riquet is one of Leipzig’s best preserved art nouveau cafés. It is lovely. I think it could rival any joint in Prague or Vienna for charm. The coffee is excellent, too, with 40’s swing ballads floating through the room. I only have about 45 minutes to soak up my coffee, then it’s back to the hotel to scoop up CK, then stroll off to the Marriott where we meet the Fam.
As we turn the corner, we see that they’ve just arrived. Katherina says that Joshua must disappear for a few minutes to attend to an HVAC repair. He works there as Chief Engineer. He’s on vacay this week but also on call when things go sideways like they have now. Joshua solves the problem in 5 minutes and we’re all back in the rent-a-van headed for the Karli district where we plan to invade a popular café for special breakfast. Maitré is the place and the style is French-ish. It’s always ‘ish’ in Germany when foreign cuisines are concerned. The Germans will always adjust things a little toward their tastes. I forget what I ordered, wait, it was a very onion flavored quiche. What I’m not forgetting is the shocking speed of the pancake disappearing from Wille’s plate. That boy was hungry.
After everyone is happily refueled, Katherina guides us to a funky toy and game shop. This is enough eye candy to keep me amused for the best part of an hour. The Squids are equally fascinated. I guess I have that in common with them! Joshua leaves with another board game under his arm! Board games are one of his few weaknesses.
Next, we inspect a costume jewelry and supply shop. This place has a stunning collection of hundreds of thousands of trinkets and bric-a-brac, much of it as individual parts with which one could create unique pieces of costume jewelry. Earrings are a focus. CK wants to jump in and make something but doesn’t know where to start. I find some fun items but it’s no use. Earrings just aren’t part of my personal groove. This would be a great place to plunder accessories for one’s Halloween outfit.
While in the jewelry shop, the wine store next door opens. This gives us the opportunity to nab some of the curious ‘young’ wine that the locals soak up this time of year. Immature stuff, not really wine but more like sweet grape juice which is strange because it is 11% alcohol. It’s a little cloudy like unfiltered apple juice with a similar taste. The alcohol is unnoticeable to my ancient palette. Very dangerous.
CK & Katherina go for a massage that K had previously arranged. Tim retreats back to the hotel and sacks out. Joshua & Squids cavort in the park until K comes out of the massage. CK returns to the hotel and wakes up Tim in time to run to catch the tram at the Hauptbanhopf. We’re taking one of the very useful and modern trolleys (trams) to J&K’s place for a home cooked meal.
At about 5 pm on Thursday, the rush hour is in full swing. The tram platform is pulsing with humanity. On the next platform, a madman erupts in high decibel tantrum as he verbally abuses a woman who also appears mentally and emotionally unfortunate. This adds tension to everyone’s prime desire, which is to get the hell out of here. Trams move in and out, but the crowd doesn’t dissipate. Our tram arrives and it is already packed. Very few people get off. CK moves ahead of me and manages to squeeze in but I have to run down the platform to look inside another door. No luck, it’s just too tight. The doors close and I’m committed to waiting for the next tram. I feel sorry for CK, packed in like a fish, sharing DNA with 50 of her neighbors. I’m not too worried for myself since another tram will arrive in 15 minutes. Problem: I don’t have a ticket. CK is off down the tracks with them. I’ll have to try to buy one from the vending machine on the tram. The problem there is that the machines seldom work at all. If a ticket checker finds you with no ticket you can be banned from the system, a serious outcome much to be avoided. The next tram arrives with plenty of room this time. I don’t see a ticket checker. I try my luck with the vending machine. I see the English language option on the screen and figure I’ve got this. Following all the prompts to the point of paying gives me more confidence. I put my card in the slot expecting a ticket to pop out but I am to be disappointed. My VISA card is rejected. I have no ticket, so this is going to be a pirate ride. Still no ticket checker in sight so I’m feeling lucky. Four stops later an official looking fellow, with an electronic scanner, boards the tram. That’s him. He’s at the extreme end of the tram, two sections away. My plan is to jump off if the tram reaches the next stop before he gets to me. If he catches me, I’ll need to use my magic phrase (Entshculdigung, ich spreche kein Deutsch) and bore him with the whole story of my plight. No worries! The tram halts and I make my escape but I’m nowhere close to J&K’s neighborhood.
Hurray for cell phones. A quick text to The Fam and Joshua is in the car on his way to rescue me. They all get a good chuckle from my little tale of transport drama and congratulate me on becoming an official Leipziger for the experience. Katherina and Joshua have prepared a lovely meal of salad and Zwiebel Kuchen. The table is decorated with Pomegranates and Artichoke blossoms. After dinner, Wille attacks a puzzle while the old folks chat over the dessert plates. It is a lovely way to spend the last evening of our short visit to Germany. J&K&H&W are very sweet to us. We promise to visit again during Easter week next April.
Friday, October 18
Today is travel day. The plan is:
Walk to Leipzig train station
Train to Berlin train station
Taxi to Berlin Brandenburg Flughafen
Aer Lingus flight to Dublin
Aer Lingus flight to Seattle
Shuttle from SeaTac airport to parking garage, retrieve car
Drive to Burlington during rush hour
Hole up overnight at the Hampton hotel (at this point we should be 21+hours in transit)
Saturday morning drive to Anacortes Ferry Terminal
Ride Ferry to Lopez Island
Drive home
Most of this is tedium punctuated by periods of confusion, doubt, and tension. Also, annoyance which is mostly generated by demands for passports and inspections of our persons conducted by grim, mirthless people in ill-fitting uniforms. It is annoying no matter how many times we’ve gone through it.
There isn't a lot to report unless something is curiously amiss, such as the 1st class train car out of Leipzig which was heated like a sauna. It was easily 85F in there. Overheated interiors are not unusual in Germany, I've noticed over the years, but this was extreme. By the time we arrived in Berlin after 1.25 hours I needed another shower. Not gonna get it, though.
With no difficulty we hire a taxi to get us to the Berlin airport in good order but there the luck goes wanting. After inquiries at a customer service desk we join the queue for Aer Lingus check-in for the flight to Dublin. There are 200 people ahead of us and no windows are open. We wait in this line for 90 minutes just to check in. Next is Security which requires another 40 minutes due to the crush of travelers. This same airport delayed us on our way to Leipzig on Monday. There's a pattern here, one we don't need further data to confirm. Berlin Brandenburg is to be avoided. Henceforth we shall route through Frankfurt or Munich, giving this hub a wide berth.
In Dublin airport we are processed in all the usual ways but with perfect efficiency by comparison. A two hour layover is soothed by a passenger lounge which we take full advantage of.
Our flight boards on time and we settle in to our comfy long-haul lie-flat seats for a 9 hour upper atmospheric fling at 600 mph. I should mention that the airline food on Aer Lingus is edible, meaning that I didn't feel poisoned. That said, I would not choose to eat any of it voluntarily. Mere curiosity compelled me. Even the bags of crisps were oddly unsatisfactory. Our flight into Germany, last Monday, was British Air and that’s what I compare it to. Again, British Air is the gold standard. I don’t give British Air full marks, though. We are taking Aer Lingus today because British Air cancelled our return flight. Grrrr. We now have the opportunity to say that today, Friday, October 18, 2024 is our first time on Irish soil. But it scarcely counts since it is merely the airport.
All goes well. We both watch movies. CK has Harry Potter flicks. I’m looking at more action flicks to keep me awake. Sadly, they aren’t very interesting, story-wise. But I always wonder how they film some of those scenes. They make the impossible seem reasonable somehow.
There’s not much more to tell mostly because the rest of it is routine schlepping through SeaTac, collecting our car from the parking garage, slithering down I-5 through Seattle rush hour. A baseball playoff game is on the radio which focuses some of our interest. We’re both beat even though we’ve done nothing but sit on our butts for hours. We’ll spend the night in a room in Burlington before catching the ferry home in the morning.
This has been a pretty quick trip to Germany, all to visit our friends, our adopted Fam: Joshua and Katherina, The Squids – Wille and Helene. It was awesome to see them all growing and thriving. We’ll be back.
I loved hitching a ride with you on this fun and friends and food-filled adventure! Thanks for sharing!