Travel Diary, Episode 1 - Off to a Flying Start

So, I really hate flying. This is something I know, and have known for some time - yet unfortunately travelling to Europe kind of involves a couple of rather long flights. Seven hours from Australia to Singapore, and twelve hours from Singapore to Helsinki (then two hours to Berlin, but more on that later).

Both flights involve rather large planes, which I hate especially. I actually don't mind flying in the small planes (like Dash 8s), but the big ones just make me feel stiff, sore, headachey and nauseated.

I managed to survive the flight to Singapore without too much incident. It was a day-time thing and I was sitting somewhere where I could easily get up and stretch every half-hour or so. It all started to head down-hill after I hit Singapore.

I had a four-hour wait for my next flight, hanging around the airport trying to keep myself conscious. This was made somewhat difficult by the soothing music they were piping through the airport. Some kind of tinkling piano thing that seemed far too soporific for the occasion. I ended up pacing back and forth through the airport and climbing up and down the stairs several times while humming ABBA's On And On And On in my head in order to keep myself awake.

I'm reasonably certain the security personnel thought I was nuts.

Then the next flight came into action, and whatever was stopping me from getting travel sick on the first flight completely wore off. You know what the trouble is with throwing up two hours into a twelve hour flight? You still have to stay on the plane for the next ten hours.

Oh, and I actually threw up twice. The first time it was whatever I'd eaten during the day (most recently, and least digested: rice), the second time it was the water I had taken to settle my stomache and rinse out my mouth after the first time. That lead to about eight hours of not eating or drinking anything at all until I thought it was safe to try a small bit of water again.

Suffice to say I was feeling seriously dehydrated by the time I got to Helsinki...

About that. I had a six hour stop over in Helsinki because I was booked on a Finnair Flight that must route through Henlsinki come hell or high water, but when I was getting off the plane in Singapore (after my first flight), I noticed a shorter flight direct to Frankfurt was leaving in a couple of hours. Why, oh why couldn't my travel agent get me onto that one? Especially since I'd asked for the most direct flight with the least amount of time involved?

I did get to spend four hours trying to find bland food and water in Helsinki (and saw a few sights and a market while I was at it)... aber, Mensch! Es war sehr ermüdend.

And, of course, it was at this point that I realised I had booked myself on a series of bus tours. The one thing that makes me more nauseated than flying is travelling in the back of a bus. This could be a huge exercise in "my goodness, Sharon is an idiot".