Why is it I drunk so much last night, yet I'm still thirsty now, 24 hours on, its very confusing!
Father, who was to be my chauffeur to Heathrow woke me at 5:10am, I was in such a deep sleep he nearly gave me a heart attack crashing through the door but soon we were in the car and off to get on my first of 2 planes, suppose I should get used to it. Not really sure what was said during the journey to the airport though I remember it taking 57 minutes. In typical Dad fashion this really excited him!
As you can expect it wasn’t exactly busy in T4, but they were certainly picking on the people who looked worse for wear so I was made to go into a 'scanner'. It was another way of seeing if I was made of bomb except it passed X-Ray through me to find out. You have to stand in frightfully odd positions!?
The amount of passengers flying to Paris was counted on my one available hand, the other was clutching water, and thus made the trip rather painless. Touch down in CDG and there was a small wait for bags and then it was time to try and find a taxi……oh there’s one! It seems like if you like to travel easy, travel at stupid times in the morning.
Taxi from Charles de Galle to Orly in under one hour was the target and monsieur ‘Hamilton’ was certainly on it. An odd thing happened; the first song on the radio was ‘Africa’ by Toto, like a sign. I listened to the lyrics, they don’t make too much sense but somehow still have a meaning.
By the time I reached Orly there was simply a sea of grey jackets hanging around smoking and the like. There was some black ones too, medics I think and then Red for Media. Everyone is looked after by ASO the organisers, all the flights booked by a huge coordination team. I felt rough, and it was time for more water. Armelle, TV coordinator and mother goose greeted me ‘you look rough’. The next person ‘you have ill eyes’ and then, ‘blimey you look scary’. Oh, not a good way to start, my 3 hours sleep and countless sleepless nights worrying was obviously showing badly.
Food was next on the agent after doing my best ‘rookie traveller’ impression at security and emptying my bag all over the floor. It was also dawning on me just how un-English everything was which was compounded when I got on TAP Airlines and people started talking Portuguese at me. I was by this point a rabbit in headlights, my brain shut down with language overload and I went to sleep.
Touchdown in Lisbon was evil, the pilot was obviously told I was sleeping in class, like at school, and did his best to wake me up with an almighty bump. I fell asleep so quickly I never even knew who I was sitting next too. So to the 3rd and final country of the day, miserable Portugal; the last time I was here it was miserable for a very different reason but today it was the rain, I hadn’t really thought about rain.
I felt better about myself after the countless more editors and cameramen I was introduced to hadn’t commented on my ‘grinch’ face so I was on the up. Just like working for an F1 team it was straight to work with my French/Italian counterpart Alessandro who I met on the coach to the ‘Location Presse’. Our plan for how the next 3 weeks work looks great and in fact all the plans look amazingly organised and even though I know it will fall apart it put me at ease.
We stayed till 8 in the press centre researching and structuring the various scripts myself and Alessandro have to put together during the rally and then braved the weather to get to our stunning hotel. I love hotels, and this one is pretty good, certainly better than a tent! Supper and a meeting, in French, proceeded snuggling into bed, calm and clear headed and having a much need nights rest, I have 3 days of fact finding ahead…
Father, who was to be my chauffeur to Heathrow woke me at 5:10am, I was in such a deep sleep he nearly gave me a heart attack crashing through the door but soon we were in the car and off to get on my first of 2 planes, suppose I should get used to it. Not really sure what was said during the journey to the airport though I remember it taking 57 minutes. In typical Dad fashion this really excited him!
As you can expect it wasn’t exactly busy in T4, but they were certainly picking on the people who looked worse for wear so I was made to go into a 'scanner'. It was another way of seeing if I was made of bomb except it passed X-Ray through me to find out. You have to stand in frightfully odd positions!?
The amount of passengers flying to Paris was counted on my one available hand, the other was clutching water, and thus made the trip rather painless. Touch down in CDG and there was a small wait for bags and then it was time to try and find a taxi……oh there’s one! It seems like if you like to travel easy, travel at stupid times in the morning.
Taxi from Charles de Galle to Orly in under one hour was the target and monsieur ‘Hamilton’ was certainly on it. An odd thing happened; the first song on the radio was ‘Africa’ by Toto, like a sign. I listened to the lyrics, they don’t make too much sense but somehow still have a meaning.
By the time I reached Orly there was simply a sea of grey jackets hanging around smoking and the like. There was some black ones too, medics I think and then Red for Media. Everyone is looked after by ASO the organisers, all the flights booked by a huge coordination team. I felt rough, and it was time for more water. Armelle, TV coordinator and mother goose greeted me ‘you look rough’. The next person ‘you have ill eyes’ and then, ‘blimey you look scary’. Oh, not a good way to start, my 3 hours sleep and countless sleepless nights worrying was obviously showing badly.
Food was next on the agent after doing my best ‘rookie traveller’ impression at security and emptying my bag all over the floor. It was also dawning on me just how un-English everything was which was compounded when I got on TAP Airlines and people started talking Portuguese at me. I was by this point a rabbit in headlights, my brain shut down with language overload and I went to sleep.
Touchdown in Lisbon was evil, the pilot was obviously told I was sleeping in class, like at school, and did his best to wake me up with an almighty bump. I fell asleep so quickly I never even knew who I was sitting next too. So to the 3rd and final country of the day, miserable Portugal; the last time I was here it was miserable for a very different reason but today it was the rain, I hadn’t really thought about rain.
I felt better about myself after the countless more editors and cameramen I was introduced to hadn’t commented on my ‘grinch’ face so I was on the up. Just like working for an F1 team it was straight to work with my French/Italian counterpart Alessandro who I met on the coach to the ‘Location Presse’. Our plan for how the next 3 weeks work looks great and in fact all the plans look amazingly organised and even though I know it will fall apart it put me at ease.
We stayed till 8 in the press centre researching and structuring the various scripts myself and Alessandro have to put together during the rally and then braved the weather to get to our stunning hotel. I love hotels, and this one is pretty good, certainly better than a tent! Supper and a meeting, in French, proceeded snuggling into bed, calm and clear headed and having a much need nights rest, I have 3 days of fact finding ahead…
1 comment:
first comment must be from your mother who didnt know you had a blog keep taking the water (and the pills if they arrive!!!) LOL
Post a Comment