ON THE (co)RO(n)AD
That title is a stretch and I know it :D
Wednesday 18th March
I'll be honest, this is the first time been in the commercial centre of Leipzig at 6 a.m. on a Wednesday, but I would guess it were no less busy than it usually is this morning. I make embarrassing eye contact with a man in high-vis while he necks a miniature bottle of liqueur.
As I have made a big show of, I have been trying to avoid flying since I underwent the Flygskam epiphany... but I also believe in pragmatism and avoiding blanket rules and don't really want to shell out €360 to take a 21-hour train journey home.
Luckily I still get to take one train from the Hbf to the airport. They're so much posher than English ones, with functioning and uncomplicated electronic screens showing all the upcoming stops, the original ETA of each one, and the actualised one. Which are always the same! No braying, crackly loudspeaker announcements; no shitty scrolling dotty orange lettering you have to hover over your seat for 3 minutes to read before being reassured that you're on the right train; and loads of room in each carriage so I don't have to buffet ((is buffet the noun linked to the verb???)) anyone with my obscenely large rucksack...
The airport is deserted, but one has to wonder whether Leipzig-Halle Flughafen is ever particularly buzzing x. Their one electronic board fits a list of every flight going out today on one page. Some of them have been cancelled; luckily not the one I'm getting to D'dorf.
I buy myself a coffee and ~treat myself~ to a Kuchen. The lady pointedly and aggressively washes her hands after I hand over the last euros I'll be using for potentially quite a long time. Fair play to her. The pastry is extremely disappointing, anyway. I have learnt that Kuchen always look much better than they taste. Plato said it first: reality is an imitation of the idea...
Anyway, there are two Americans with irritating accents on our flight to DΓΌsseldorf. They are both wearing face masks and for some reason (although it's obviously the conscientious, and frankly respectful, thing to do) I still take it personally and feel insulted - concerned that I look diseased.
There are literally 8 passengers on the plane. (I'm so, so sorry, climate). Not only that, but the vacancies mean we could theoretically socially distance ourselves *within the plane*, but all eight of us seem to be too self-conscious (the British) or too obedient (the Germs) to relocate from the seat number on our tickets; so we're being neither environmentally, nor socially, responsible in the end. Our flight takes off 15 minutes early and I put on my Count yr Blessings playlist. Hellooo Dooosselldorf.
We land half an hour ahead of schedule. Here, the airport is more strikingly empty. The plane has rows of six seats but in the end a mere 12 are filled.
After walking through an eerie Heathrow - pausing only to purchase an egg n cress sarnie - my heart rate rises as I approach the tube and it looks totally barren. When I ask a man in uniform whether it's open and he says "yeah man it's just dead right now" I feel momentarily happy because it's my first interaction without a language-barrier for a while, and grin back a bit over-enthusiastically. The Piccadilly line is quiet but not totally dead. I put my mask on... mainly because I can smell my own eggy sandwich :(
The Victoria line was as busy as I would expect it to be at midday on a Wednesday. The Northern line not so much - certain platforms were completely empty. People who live in Clapham South can defo all afford to WFH.
One of my now former flatmates summed up the looming long-term impact of this really complex and shitty situation in three beautifully delivered words... Sommer im Arsch.
P.S. To put my own whinging in perspective, tonight my lil bro's A Level's got cancelled (along with everyone else in Year 13's, worry not) so his summer is well and truly in the arse. Fucking hell. Sorry my yung pals that's really sucky :(
Wednesday 18th March
I'll be honest, this is the first time been in the commercial centre of Leipzig at 6 a.m. on a Wednesday, but I would guess it were no less busy than it usually is this morning. I make embarrassing eye contact with a man in high-vis while he necks a miniature bottle of liqueur.
As I have made a big show of, I have been trying to avoid flying since I underwent the Flygskam epiphany... but I also believe in pragmatism and avoiding blanket rules and don't really want to shell out €360 to take a 21-hour train journey home.
Luckily I still get to take one train from the Hbf to the airport. They're so much posher than English ones, with functioning and uncomplicated electronic screens showing all the upcoming stops, the original ETA of each one, and the actualised one. Which are always the same! No braying, crackly loudspeaker announcements; no shitty scrolling dotty orange lettering you have to hover over your seat for 3 minutes to read before being reassured that you're on the right train; and loads of room in each carriage so I don't have to buffet ((is buffet the noun linked to the verb???)) anyone with my obscenely large rucksack...
The airport is deserted, but one has to wonder whether Leipzig-Halle Flughafen is ever particularly buzzing x. Their one electronic board fits a list of every flight going out today on one page. Some of them have been cancelled; luckily not the one I'm getting to D'dorf.I buy myself a coffee and ~treat myself~ to a Kuchen. The lady pointedly and aggressively washes her hands after I hand over the last euros I'll be using for potentially quite a long time. Fair play to her. The pastry is extremely disappointing, anyway. I have learnt that Kuchen always look much better than they taste. Plato said it first: reality is an imitation of the idea...
Anyway, there are two Americans with irritating accents on our flight to DΓΌsseldorf. They are both wearing face masks and for some reason (although it's obviously the conscientious, and frankly respectful, thing to do) I still take it personally and feel insulted - concerned that I look diseased.
There are literally 8 passengers on the plane. (I'm so, so sorry, climate). Not only that, but the vacancies mean we could theoretically socially distance ourselves *within the plane*, but all eight of us seem to be too self-conscious (the British) or too obedient (the Germs) to relocate from the seat number on our tickets; so we're being neither environmentally, nor socially, responsible in the end. Our flight takes off 15 minutes early and I put on my Count yr Blessings playlist. Hellooo Dooosselldorf.
We land half an hour ahead of schedule. Here, the airport is more strikingly empty. The plane has rows of six seats but in the end a mere 12 are filled.
Upon arrival in Blighty we have to queue for a disconcertingly long time to get off the plane, during which time a text comes through from a friend reading "Dude get home quick!!!". I fear that we've inched closer to Wuhan measures while I had my head literally somewhere in the clouds and that we won't be able to enter the country. My fear was unfounded, however, and I breezed (or stormed, really - I'm quite pissed off to be back) through passport control. There was literally no queue.
After walking through an eerie Heathrow - pausing only to purchase an egg n cress sarnie - my heart rate rises as I approach the tube and it looks totally barren. When I ask a man in uniform whether it's open and he says "yeah man it's just dead right now" I feel momentarily happy because it's my first interaction without a language-barrier for a while, and grin back a bit over-enthusiastically. The Piccadilly line is quiet but not totally dead. I put my mask on... mainly because I can smell my own eggy sandwich :(
The Victoria line was as busy as I would expect it to be at midday on a Wednesday. The Northern line not so much - certain platforms were completely empty. People who live in Clapham South can defo all afford to WFH.
One of my now former flatmates summed up the looming long-term impact of this really complex and shitty situation in three beautifully delivered words... Sommer im Arsch.
P.S. To put my own whinging in perspective, tonight my lil bro's A Level's got cancelled (along with everyone else in Year 13's, worry not) so his summer is well and truly in the arse. Fucking hell. Sorry my yung pals that's really sucky :(
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