Tel Aviv

You know when you go to the airport in Israel and they search through your bags, running all of your possessions, individually, through the x-ray machine? twice? And then when they're done with that they take you to that little room where they ask you to walk back and forth through the metal detector, taking off items of clothing until it stops beeping?
Did you know that there's a secret button somewhere in that room? And if you press it four undercover Israeli security guards with radios and guns come storming into your little metal detector room and no one says anything for a second and you think you're about to get hauled off to airport prison because you forgot to take the pack of gum out of your pocket and that's what kept beeping even though you had already taken off your shoes and belt and were wondering what else you could take off given that that curtain over the doorway was ridiculously small and kept flapping open anyway? Well, don't worry. They won't haul you away. And when you ask the guard who was supervising your trips through the metal detector, he'll just tell you that no, you're not in trouble, but that button sure is sensitive...

Balmy Israel, oh how I miss thee.

When I finally arrived in Tel Aviv, it was a balmy 12 degrees. At 7:30 in the morning. I walked out the terminal, took off my jacket and haven't put it back on since. It's been sunny and warm and I've passed the time strolling about in the sun and sipping coffee on outdoor patios.
Sadly, it had to come to end and I'm back at the airport, killing time before a flight to Prague. I'll be there for week, attending a conference as an 'internet specialist' where I'm going to be running a workshop on the blog-o-sphere. Just have a glance back to the dates of my last 10 posts and you'll see how much of a joke this is.
After the conference, I have a month of unscripted Euro-adventure. Other than a need to hit London at some point in those 30 days, I'm pretty open for anything. So, if anyone out there has a Euro-destination that is not to be missed, let me know. Also, if anyone is in possession of a Euro-couch I can crash upon, please do leave your particulars in the comment section below.


breakfast with miss Jelly Pong in balmy Israel.

Last plane out of Heathrow

So when last I blogged, I was relaxing in the departure lounge at Heathrow, waiting for a flight to Tel Aviv, sipping coffee and basking in the comforting glow of the interweb.
They finally stared loading the plane about half an hour after our scheduled departure and by that time I was glad to wedge myself into a seat and try to get some sleep in preparation for my 6am arrival in Israel. So I sit down, immediately fall asleep and nap for what feels like (and actually was) about 20 minutes or so. Upon waking, I can't help but notice that we're still on the ground. No matter, I figure we'll be on our way shortly and drift off back to sleep.
What I didn't know at that point was that a heinous freezing fog had descended on the airport that night and was coating everything in ice. As airplane wings and ice don't mix so well, flights were being cancelled left and right. And now, our plane was sitting on the tarmac, waiting for clearance to go.
So, having no idea that I'm in danger of spending a night camped out in Terminal 4, I slumber some more, only to be woken by the following announcement:
"Ladies and gnetlemen, this is your captain speaking, as you may have noticed, we're still sitting on the ground. You may also have noticed that it is quite foggy outside. And those of you sitting above the wings most certainly will notice, if you look out the window, that the fog is icing up the wings."
At this point I, from my vantage point above the right wing, look out the window and noticed that, yes, the fog is icing up the wing. fancy that.
"So now, ladies and gentlemen, I have some good news and I have some bad news. The good news is that we have, finally, been given clearance to take off, the bad news is that in order for us to do so, our wings have to be de-iced, and unfortunately, the de-icing crew has got their hands full tonight. We are currently number 7 in the de-icing queue and it will be about an hour before they can get to us. So we will be going, but not just yet."
There were, as you can imagine, a few groans and sighs and general sounds of discontent about the cabin, but most people just looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to talking/napping/listening to their ipods. I closed my eyes and went back to sleep, only to be woken an hour later by the de-icing crew spraying my window with de-icer. This is also when the second announcement came:
"Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain again. I'm sure that those of you sitting over the wings have seen the de-icing crew and expect that we will be leaving shortly. Unfortunately, we can't leave just yet because when all of the flights were cancelled, all of the ground crews went home, so now we need to wait for the only remaining ground crew to come and push us back from the gate. It shouldn't be too long, so just hold on and I'll let you know when they arrive."
More groans, but also a few chuckles, as hey, we'd been sitting here for over 90 minutes, how much longer could it be? And aren't delayed flights and missed connections what holiday travel is all about?
A few minutes later the captain was back:
"Ladies and gentlemen, as I'm sure you've noticed, we are now leaving the gate. We'll be taking off shortly and we'll do our best to take advantage of our tailwind and see if we can make up some of the lost time."
This time, some scattered claps for the good news, and when we left the ground a few minutes later people actually cheered.
I guess that's the secret for airline crews, just make people think that the plane might not take off at all. Then, not only will they not mind that you're leaving two hours late, they'll actually cheer when the plane gets off the ground.

Terminal 4 - Heathrow

No airport departure lounge blog would be complete without the requisite airport-security-is-a-pain-in-the-ass post. This one, however, comes with a twist:
You see, I've been lucky enough to travel a fair bit. And normally when I travel, it's with bags of cameras and computers and other bits of techno-gadgetry. So I'm used to having my bags hand-searched. And my pockets emptied. And metal detecting wands waved around my private areas. One time they just refused to let me get on the plane with my gear (I ended up getting them to buy me a ticket on someone else's plane, figure that one out.) It's all just part of the travel experience (unless your Congolese fixer has just bribed the security people (the ones with the big machine guns), then you can just walk right onto the plane. But that was just that one time).

But now, in the age of shoe bombers and shampoo bombs, suddenly no one cares that you're walking around with bags of gadgety goodness (well that and the fact that now everyone is walking around with just as much cellphone-laptop-digital camera-gadgety-ness).
So now, instead of being pulled out of line for a little bit of intimate wanding, it goes like this: I'm leaving Israel and transiting through Athens. In Athens, I have to go through a security check with a bag full of cameras and a bag full of computers and hard drives and countless other devices with flashing lights and beeping beepers and what-have-you. Of course, I go straight through and no one even gives me a second glance. As I'm standing there, re-packing my laptop, the guy after me comes through with no carry-on other than a zip-lock bag with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and what looks like a small bottle of shampoo. The woman behind the x-ray machine looks up at him and says, "sir, could you step over there please? We need to check your bag." I wonder if he enjoyed the wanding?

However, here in London they've decided to change the carry-on rules to 'speed things up'. This means that you're allowed one carry on bag, no ifs, ands or buts (usual rules are that you're allowed one carry on plus a purse, laptop or camera bag, which really means you bring two bags). They tried to get me to check one of my bags in Vancouver, but in the end admitted that I could fly from Vancouver to London with two, but I could only fly OUT of London with one.
So, when I arrive in London, and see that yes, they are not messing around with this one-bag only thing, so I step around the corner and repack all of my cameras into my laptop bag. Everything that won't fit, I jam into the pockets of my jacket. Then I sling my camera over my shoulder and proceed through security. At this point, I can't even really close my bag, so swollen is it with photo paraphernalia, but that doesn't concern the one-bag-only rule enforcer, next time I think I'll just bring a garbage bag and when they take issue with my computer bag + camera bag, I can just drop them both into the garbage bag and be done with it.
And of course, when I get to the actual security checkpoint there is no line at all. And i don't mean that in the 'yeah, there was no line at all, only 4-5 people in front of me' way, but in the, 'there was no line at all' kind of way. And then once I got through security, I just repacked my bags again. Thank you oh-so-much Heathrow security for speeding things up for me.


Terminal 4 - Heathrow

Coming to you from an actual departure lounge.

So when I started this blog back in the day, I was in the midst of a hard-rock, border-hop, jet-set lifestyle. My first post was composed at a friend's house in Kuala Lumpur and, at the time, I had just come off of a 9 month project that included jaunts to every continent (no nit-pickers, I did not go to antarctica. But seriously, who goes to antarctica?) and a fair bit of time in airports and departure lounges. So, naturally, the blog was called 'departure lounge' after the location from which I imagined I would be composing my witty and engaging reports of travel and adventure. Of course, less than a month later I ended up in Israel, where I spent the next three years. Three (almost) departure-lounge-less years.
But now I'm back on the road.
I left Israel a month ago, went back to Canada to catch up on my television watching, and I'm now on my way to Europe. Scratch that, I am in Europe. At Heathrow. In a real live departure lounge.

And I'll be on the road for the next few weeks, swinging through Israel, up to the Czech Republic and then I have 4 weeks to kill in Europe before I head back to Israel for a wedding and finally back to Canada where, if all goes well, I'll take a quick break, repack my bags, and set off again. I'll keep you all posted.