A Story of Love & Travel

I attended a wedding this weekend, to protect the innocent in this story I will use initials for the key players.

"A" was marrying her fiancee "B"; B's identical twin brother "C" had returned from overseas to be B's Best Man. Like a proper Best Man, C had slaved for weeks to prepare his speech. However at the reception he got up and said: "I'm not going to give the speech I prepared, instead I'm going to tell you a story of Love and Travel which I have just heard this week". Here's the story:

More than 8 years ago when A and C had just got together they were forced by circumstance to spend a few weeks apart over Christmas. Being in love, A wrote B a love letter. B was sharing a student house with C and with another guy "P"; he didn't want them to read the beautiful letter that he had received from A so he hid it...in a slit in the cushion of the old sofa that they had in their student house.

Later B and C moved out of the house and sold the sofa to P; B forgot the letter hidden so carefully. Later P moved out of the house and, after carefully cleaning the sofa, he sold it to another person. The letter still didn't come to light, B had hidden it well.

The new owner of the sofa happened to feel something in one of the cushions one day and the letter at last came to light. Not quite knowing what to do with it, the new owner stuffed it in his knapsack. Shortly afterwards he travelled to Amsterdam and stayed there in a random house. Finding the letter in his knapsack, and still not knowing what to do with it he gave it to the owner of the house.

This woman thought it was a beautiful letter and so she put it up on the wall of her kitchen.

Much later another Australian visitor came into possession of the letter, after seeing it on the wall of the same Amsterdam house. This Australian returned to Australia and being equally moved by the letter he put it up on the wall of his house.

By chance P visited that house and saw the letter and its envelope - he recognised the addressee. Though never having seen the letter before he, after many years, again became the "owner" of the letter. Along with the letter came the missing story of its discovery in the sofa and its travels to Amsterdam and back - handed from each "owner" to the next as it travelled.

When C arrived in Sydney for the wedding he met up with P and P said "I've got a letter and a story for you".

The whole audience at the reception were awestruck by the story and when C reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter, in its original envelope, there was rapturous applause. He opened it and read the first paragraph. It was simple and it said something like: "I missed you so much this Christmas that I realise that it's you I want to spend the rest of my life with."

By this time the Bride and Groom were both in tears.

Trapped!!

It's simple right? You get on a train and pay your hundred bucks and you're conveyed to Cootamundra in Central Western NSW. Then when you want to come home you go to the railway station and buy your ticket back to Melbourne and you come home.

Well that's not quite how it worked. I got there OK, had a great couple of days seeing the new owner settled into his new aircraft and then I tried to come home and that's where it went pear shaped.

No train seats out of town for the next 3 days. Righto we'll drive to Canberra and get a flight out of there - barely any seats and all at around four hundred bucks. OK scrap that and drive to Sydney and get a flight from there. Same story, only worse.

This is getting desperate. I know, I'll go to Yass and get the bus from there. That's only $61. But oh no they go via Narrandera and take about 14 or 15 hours. Stuff that for a joke and anyway there aren't any seats are there?

This is getting surreal - I want to be home in time for the weekend but I can't see it happening. What about Wagga? I hit the web and find the last available seat out of Wagga. 2 hours from now and I book it online. But when the booking confirmation finally shows it hasn't given me the flight I had booked but one 4 hours later. Time's getting pretty short for the flight in 2 hours and I want that flight. I ring customer service and yes they acknowledge it might have been their fault but if I want to go on the flight I booked on it will cost me an extra $66 to "change" my booking. Do I blow a valve at this attitude or do I get that 1 last seat? Get the seat, grit your teeth and get the seat. But more on this airline down the track.

I've got the seat, an email arrives on my phone confirming I have the seat but I now don't have time to drive there. OK fire up a mate's Archer and let's go. A lovely day for a fly anyway. The country's looking pretty green and a trough has brought moist hazy air but very little instability so all in all a nice trip at 2,500'.

As we approached Wagga it's obvious there's a bit of traffic. A couple of light twins doing circuits, a military CT4 preparing to depart, an RPT Saab 340 taxiing, and two IFR Royal Flying Doctor aircraft - a King Air and a PC12.

We were approaching on the reciprocal of the active so we moved to the downwind active side of the circuit and in response to a call from the Saab we confirmed that we were displaced from runway centreline. Ahead of us a 310 was joining crosswind so we slotted in downwind behind it. The CT4 had meanwhile cleared out but the King Air called straight in 10 miles and the PC12 straight in 6 miles as we headed downwind. We kept close to the 310 but as we turned final the PC12 said "Ah I'm too close to you guys I'm going round". This was the outcome we'd been working to avoid. Yes we had the right of way but it's nice to oblige!

On the ground I checked in with a cheerful guy and sat to wait boarding. That's where the airline struck again. You know those companies that are small minded and expect you to be a problematic customer? Well that's what this airline is like. The check in guy had checked out my knapsack and said "no worries". When I got to the aircraft the flight attendant aggressively demanded that I relinquish it as "there's no show it'll fit". I wasn't the least concerned about the prospect but she decided that I was going to be concerned and became increasingly aggressive without pausing to think that I was actually holding my knapsack out for her to take - as she had requested.

The first officer looked stressed and refused to make eye contact with anyone. This was a company that thought it's customers were going to be troublesome and probably reaped what they sowed.

A short flight and then we had to suffer the same negative treatment at the hands of the airline's contract security screeners. Every single computer cable had to be unpacked from my road warrior kit. Never in 20 years of travel had this happened before but this closed faced mob hadn't the faith in their own skills to read the X-Ray image. Instead each passenger in turn found their hand baggage screened 2, 3 or in my case 4 times...meanwhile the queue grew.

Finally I was spat out by the airline like a bitter pip. I think both the airline and I were pleased to see the back of each other.

This is where the good part of the journey began. The driver of the Skybus was a one-man customer service champion. He worked to shorten the queue, he kept everyone informed on the progress, helped them understand why it was so busy, coached people about the challenges they might face on a return journey later in the weekend and how to avoid holdups. Well done bus driver.

So "escape" from Cootamundra was achieved, even though it is a great little town, I wanted to be home for the weekend.

Footnote: The TAIC has finally released the accident report that I have blogged about. I'll get some time to read it in full this weekend and then I'll let you have my review ;-)

Slow Travel

For once everything had gone to plan. Melbourne - Hong Kong a brief stopover and then Hong Kong - Rome overnight. This is my favourite flight - arriving at either 0650 or 0710 depending on the season. Uncharacteristically I'd managed a good night's sleep on the flight and arrived feeling rested. I'd also begun to perfect the skill of travelling slow and I arrived feeling not only fresh but relaxed.
The crisp January morning was something of a shock - stepping out of heat stricken Melbourne into single digit Rome was challenging. I drifted through the airport with barely a nod from immigration and disinterest from anyone else. A short wait and onto the Leonardo Express. It always reminds me of the North Coast Mail - the train that used to rumble down the North Coast of NSW collecting blokes with beer, sheilas with dogs and various others with bongs and dope. The Leonardo Express lacks the colour and the carriages are better but it still rattles and shakes and the engine sounds just like the Mail.

Roma Termini is a favourite of mine, despite its fascist style and the pay to pee loos; it has something about it. The early morning winter light, the steaming breathes of the passengers and the bustle. I bought a ticket on the all stops to Naples then grabbed a coffee and slice for breakfast. Life was looking up and soon enough we were on the track again. The trip to Priverno-Fossanova was only 50 minutes and then I was met with warm greetings by an old friend.
It was 2 years since we had seen each other so there was plenty to talk about. First stop was the factory to check on progress but soon enough the familiar question: Mangiamo? Why not? For some reason we never discuss where we're going for lunch. Giovanni decides and off we go. I know where we're going when we get there.
After 30 or so minutes we arrive at a little restaurant. It's beside a drainage canal and set amongst open fields. In the '30s this area was drained, on Mussolini's orders, and turned from swamp to productive farmlands. Wherever you travel on this little coastal strip the drainage canals are a reminder of this.
We parked the car and strolled in the bright winter sunshine for 100 metres to the grass airstrip. Two people were lying in the sun near a little airplane waiting for us. Giovanni introduced them: "This is Giovanna and Mauro." I shook hands and then realised that I had seen this aircraft before. In December 2 years ago I had seen this aircraft in the factory with "Giovanna e Mauro" scrawled on the firewall in marker pen. "He delivered it to us on 24 December" they said, nodding towards Giovanni.
We strolled arm in arm to the restaurant and ate a leisurely lunch. Giovanna and Mauro had travelled in Australia. We talked about the world, business, flying, life, Italy, food and the difficulty of being married to American women. Finally the lowering sun made it necessary to make a move.
We strolled back to the airstrip. This leg back to Roma was Giovanna's turn in the left seat. They strapped in, taxied out and ran up for departure.

Then out of nowhere a Hughes 500D arrived to disturb the peace, make several approaches, hold up departure and then leave.

Finally they departed climbing away in the broad sweeping turn into the soft light of the winter afternoon and we walked off to the car. This set the tone for the next 2 weeks, work, food, friends and flying. Only in Italy.