My swanky lifestyle* required me to travel to Dusseldorf last week. This is (kind of) a travel report. In pictures. And colour.
The journey started off rather civilized with a meal and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Boozing for lunch? You guessed right, I hadn’t left British territory by then. Ever since getting over the initial irritation thanks to the baggage disaster, I fell in love with Terminal 5. There’s always something new to try. This time: lunch at Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant Plane Food. Poached eggs on potato mash and cepes. Reasonably priced. And not once have I heard the f-word. Very civilized indeed.
Next stop: Germany. Enough fooling around already. No smoking. No suitcase trolleys. Oh, and no roller skates. But you can leave one eye in.
By the time you have read the whole thing, the train will have made use of its strongly acting brakes and you’ll find yourself smudged across one of the big glass windows. Not a good look. Whatever happened to a sweet and short ‘grab the handle’?
Vorsprung durch Technik: This, ladies and gentlemen, is a fully automated gap-filling bridge that connects the space between Dusseldorf airport’s Skytrain and the platform, safely and secure before the doors open. Nothing of that nonchalant ‘mind the gap’ (or break your neck, nanananananaaa) you get on the tube.
Creative freedom: If you think graffiti art is limited to London’s East End, think again. Germany, home of the artist manqué. Who’d have thought?
Digital Germany: I remember… uh… borrowing the metal route signs that were kept in an open frame next to the trains’ doors. Not anymore, I guess.
Club Tropicana: I mean… WTF? Palm trees? I mean, really? This is Dusseldorf, for crying out loud.
Club Tropicana II: Ok, ok, I get it. If you have palm trees on the other side of the street, you might as well call yourself ‘Coiffeur The Sun’. Fair enough.
World outside my window. Or: Everywhere she goes, she always takes the f****** weather with her.
Back to the USSR: Seriously, how depressing can a train station get?
Piece o’ cake: Everything seems to be XXL these days in Germany. Mega pretzels. Jumbo bread rolls. The object in front of my face is a piece of poppy seed cake. After I had eaten the first half of it. No wonder the Germans are keeping up with the Brits in being the fattest European nation.
Stating the obvious: The correct lane! (!!)
Boozing II: Heading home on board of a BA flight. Practically back in Britain.
*Reason for travel: Visiting grandma in her care home. Which leads to either blogging about nonsense like this or uncontrollably sobbing into the sleeve of my jumper. I chose the former.