parasitegirl | Day Zero of travel

Hey, jetlag, what ya knowing?

I have puffy muffin feet from the airplanes. I arrived in Japan last night around 6:30, was in bed by 10 pm, and then was awake..at 1 am! That’s how I roll. No, that’s how I now lurch into work. That’s where I am now.

Good news: my feet are swollen but my intestines aren’t!

Two weeks to catch up on, eh?

Slightly before the trip:

I started selling off a few costumes, pants (dance trousers my UK folks, I don’t know how to best monetize my panties), and veils for the “Help Ozma take more private lesson.” it helped. I planned to visit Bella Costumes in Istanbul toward the end of the second week of travel after most of the private lessons had been taken/booked so that the majority of my cash would go to learning.

I also purchase tickets with Hiromi to see the Tokyo International Bellydance Competition Gala (Featuring Ranya Renee and more!) for August 18th, knowing that I would be cash-strapped when I got back.

My luggage dated back to pre-9-11/pre-airline-cutbacks time and was purchased to move ALL THE STUFF to Japan. At that time you could mule 70lbs (31kilos) in a single suitcase internationally, nowadays it’s usually around 48lbs/22kg. My large suitcase probably weighed at least 20 lbs 9kilos. Last time I brought it to Istanbul I was sweating the possibility of going over my limit and paying more.

I now have a lighter large suitcase in hot pink. I can’t tell you the joy of seeing it on a luggage carousel and knowing it is mine. No longer do I play the game of “Is that my non-descript dark blue bag?” That oversized Barbie accessory with the animal print luggage tags, that’s aaaaaalll mine.

Bonus: It makes people smile.

I also made an impulse purchase of a leather bag in a similar hot pink that was on sale (and taunting me). It served me very well. It was oversized enough to haul all the daily lesson things, with an extra shoulder strap when needed, and, with some snaps and such, sizes down well when I didn’t need to lug stuff around. I make a good homemade handbag, but sometimes leather and professional machines do it better.

Getting there:

The morning of travel was fine. I got my luggage down my steps of doom without falling under it. This hasn't always been the case on flight days.

My shrink supplied me with mucho-Ambien for the flight.

Sleeping was good, because Air France wasn’t providing me with a veggie-meal for my waking time . The whole weekend prior to departure-Monday the on-line Air France system for changing meals was down. I could contact the local office, but it was closed all weekend. I tried to call on the train (bad foreigner) but from the moment they opened I was on hold, and remained so for 35 minutes…by then I was at the airport and nothing could be done. They didn't seem able to change things for my return flight

And, yeah, the on-line reservation tweeking thingy, still fucked when I left Istanbul 2 weeks later.

I also met up with Kazumi at the airport for a quick hang-out session. She was headed to Korea for the weekend and due to FB status-updates, we figured out we'd be in Narita International at the same time.

The flight to Paris was fine. I slept through much of it. I also beaded appliqués for my tattoo costume.

Paris:

Have I ever mentioned my deep hatred for Charles De Gaulle international airport? I had a rough time there the one time I traveled to Paris.

I tried not to think about that when we landed and I had to change flights. This didn’t last. I quickly felt anxious on seeing the wing I was in. I’m pretty sure the old section has been under construction for over 8 years now. Due to construction, the sign situation is lacking at best and usually conflicting.

The pre-landing announcement was muddled, and thickly accented, on the topic of continuing passengers having to pick-up luggage or not. I eventually though that even if I needed to …I didn’t have enough time.

The nice airport worker who gave me directions to my gate…I’d blithely thought he was kidding about a 20 minute walk. HAHAHA! French humor.

My speed walking plus increased “I hate this place” anxiety was NOT helped by what happened next.

The gates I needed to be security checked through? There was a crowd of confused passengers there because it was roped off and THERE WERE SECURITY/MILITARY MEN WITH GUNS. Did these men give us information? No. We were told to wait.

We waited.

Then the men started blowing wistles and screaming in French and indicating that we had to BACK UP like RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!! MOVE! MOVE!

At which point an American man, unwilling to believe me that we were being asked to evacuate, pushed into the departing crowd and smacked me with his luggage hard enough that French people felt sympathy for me. I later found him outside and told him that impatience is no reason to hit people with luggage and that it hurt. He seemed nonplussed, shrugged and zipped away. It was then that my American kicked in and I flipped him off and called him a motherfucker.

With 20 minutes before boarding, I ran around frantically finding an alternative gate checkpoint, get conflicting information, and occasionally wondered if part of the airport was going to blow up.

I made it to my gate when it was boarding. The issue seemed to have been a luggage scare.

No one ever stamped my passport.

Germany:

My flight to Dusseldorf international was uneventful. I emitted an involuntary noise of glee when I saw my pink luggage.

Outside of baggage claim, Khalida was waitin. I babbled and used strange voices for the hour-or-so ride to her apartment. We were getting along great from the get-go, but I did often apologize for being stupider than usual. My brain was trashed from the journey. I was loopy. I was also hoping that my blithering insanity wasn't making her re-think housing me and organizing my workshop.

Insecurity, ne?

Her husband helped carry my luggage up to the apartment. I showered. She made me spaghetti. I asked a few questions about the time-schedule for the next few days and promptly forgot anything she told me. I tried to organize thoughts and things but that part of my brain hadn’t been as lucky as my luggage. Khalida showed me the eatables she’d stocked for me and the chocolate she’d scattered around the apartment if I couldn’t make it to the kitchen. I fell asleep on the inflatable bed in the living room.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.