Paris

I don’t speak French. Everything is French. Every sign, every map, every person, everything.

So we just landed, exhausted after the 8 hour flight (and it’s a Paris, it’s always a flight where the crew are running around like headless chickens trying to keep up with the orders). We hop onto the bus and finally check into the hotel. The bowl of candies didn’t stand a chance against the energy-craving crew, whoops, sorry concierge guy…

Finally I get upstairs to my room and get dressed in a flash and at the same time on Skype saying goodnight, cause we are heading out soon and I can smell the crepes already! We get downstairs and now the choice is either we take the shuttle to the train station and then the train to the city, or we take a taxi that the hotel will so kindly organise for us, or we Uber it because I heart Uber… Aww no Uber, we’re taking a taxi seeing as it is already there and cheaper than we expected seeing as there are 4 of us, so we split the charge. From the hotel it took us about 40 minutes to get into the city and we ask the driver to drop us off at the Champs-Élysées…

The Arc de Triomphe de l’Étoile is standing there all pretty and magnificent, and I remind myself that I still want to go climb up it, but we are ravenous (because no thank you to crew meals, we are eating in PARIS!). Seriously who wants to eat on board an aircraft when they are heading to France. You know, culinary capital, incredible perfect Paris with its perfect croissants and its perfect breads and everything is just perfect. We have to find somewhere that has french fries and crepes for the Cabin Senior, pasta (I know) for the FA, salad for the FC and I want beef bourguignon with real proper red wine and I might just end it all with Creme Brûlée, cause again, France.

Now, we are rookies at eating in France, but we aren’t rookies at knowing not to eat in the main street. Avoiding the crowds, the tourist traps and of course the fake food. We are looking for the heart of French cuisine, the recipes handed down from hundreds of generations back. We walked up and down the side streets, trying not to get ourselves lost in the process, when it started to rain. Taking cover in a small little restaurant, we decide to settle down.  It was perfect.
The waitress was dressed like a mime, minus the white painted face. She was actually wearing a buret, I’m guessing its her own choice cause nobody else was wearing that. We had freshly baked hot bread on the table in a flash, and we each ordered a glass of whatever looks good to us, I had a Bordeaux, because France. Haha, now anything more than one glass and we’d all fall asleep, this was a glass enough to keep us awake until we get to see the lights on the Eiffel Tower. #goals
We all got what we wanted, and we were having a great time, obviously talking about work and relationships and face cream at some stage. We covered the basics of dinner conversation.

After I savoured every spoonful of that creme brûlée, we decided to go have a walk around and see the sights. Oh how we walked. It took us hours! From the Arc De Triomphe, we took the subway to Notre Dame.

In front of the cathedral there are hundreds of pigeons and always someone feeding them. You get to put the seed on your head and the pigeons will come peck away at your skull.. So we get there, and the FA disappears. Ugh losing people isn’t good.

She is waaaaaaay on the other side of the road, super afraid of the birds. We tried to escort her from there by scaring the birds and running her through.
Picture this: Myself and the CS running wild flapping our arms like we are crazy, with the FC covering the FA like the secret service and the FA with her arms over her head screaming “I don’t like birds!”. Never a dull moment in the life of cabin crew. #crewlife #glamorous
So, we did a quick sweep of the cathedral while the poor girl recovers from our bad FBI impression, and then we we went back to our walk.

We walked over the Love Lock Bridge, which is so heavy from all the locks, that its starting to break and fall apart. I bought a lock there as part of a collection of birthday gifts and decided to test the key on a similar lock. It worked! I actually opened a lock. I still feel bad, maybe I broke up a really good relationship? Meh.
Off to the Louvre! We didn’t go in to see the Mona Lisa, because there wasn’t enough time. The museum is HUGE and you need at least three days to get through it properly.
We then walked all the way down the river to the Eiffel Tower. 4 hours. I kid you not, we walked for 4 hours. But we were so happy, just strolling around, stopping and taking pictures of every little thing we could, all the boats and the river and the people sunbathing on the pavement.…
When we got to the Eiffel Tower, it was still light out, so we didn’t meet our Tower goal yet. We decided to split up, saying that we will meet each other under the Eiffel Tower at 8:15PM. I had little faith in the fact that we would meet up again, seeing as there are hundreds of people there and we have no method of contacting eachother, but off we went in different directions anyway.
Me and the FC went to the Catacombes, we had to Uber there, because neither of us knew the subway well enough and asking people gets frustrating. Technology wins. Again , the drive there was quite far, maybe about 30 minutes because we were stuck in traffic for a long time. We get there and join the line outside. I anticipated the wait to be at least another 30 minutes, but we were lucky. I don’t know if it was because of the weather or if we really just lucked out, but we managed to get our tickets (discounted because we are 25 years and younger 🙂 score!) and start down the stairs in only 10 minutes!

The tour is very interesting, while you make your way down the long dark underground corridors, the audio guide explains everything about the history of the Catacombes, while in the background they play soft whispers and water trickles. Was it creepy? Oh yes. And I don’t exactly do well with the dark. Lets just say, I tend to run from things that aren’t there. In this case, things were actually there. Millions of human bones and thousands of skulls line the Catacombes. They were moved to the underground after the mass graves got too crowded and started leaking. Yes, LEAKING.  Walking through the catacombs are, as I said, really creepy and very scary, so the FC jumping out from behind a pillar made me nearly wet myself. I really don’t like the dark. I would go back a second time to listen to the audio tour again, I am sure I missed some information.

After we climbed hundreds of stairs back up to the street, we went to look for the subway and decided to take the plunge and try not to get lost down there. It was pretty straight forward after we walked over the wrong side, got on the wrong train and went the wrong way for one stop, but we figured it out and we both wish that they’d just make some signs and maps in English. We got out at the Eiffel Tower, walked around for a little while and I wanted a Nutella Crepe. So we went and found a little crepe place, munched our crepes and made our way down towards the Tower. Just under the tower, my FC stopped at a corner game and I ran to the toilet. Most confusing toilet. It is self cleaning, I figured out after watching other people use it, because French. After finally being allowed to use the toilet, I get out and she runs to me all wide-eyed saying she just lost 50Euro and she doesn’t know how. Hahaha. She couldn’t keep her eye on the ball under the cup and she lost 50Euro. Note to self: stay away from random corner games. We stood there and watched for a while, before some random guy came running and packed up the game in half a second burying it under leaves. Avoiding the po-po like a boss.

We figured that that was probably our que to leave, so we left deciding it is a smart idea to start being visible under the Eiffel Tower. At 8:15 we were watching about 5 brides and grooms take wedding pictures (How romantic, right? Having to fight your way through the hundreds of tourists and standing on top of a concrete block with children toys, trinkets and selfie sticks being sold all around you.. Yeah..). By some miracle, we randomly found the other two! Couldn’t believe it! But hey, we were together and we were having fun at that stage. Climbing onto things and trying to take pictures with the whole Tower in it is really difficult.

At 9PM, like clockwork, the Towers lights illuminated and sparkled and looked as pretty as always.
We headed home after that, dipping in and out of consciousness the whole car ride back. When we got dropped off, we all stumbled into the hotel and looked around us all confused. It dawned on us that that was not the right hotel! Strangely there are two of the same hotel in the same area, so we had to call the Uber back and drive to the right hotel. Finally back safe, we all sneaked into out rooms.

Paris in a day. We did it. And it was great. Yes we got lost, and yes we got rained on. No trip is complete without being lost and finding something great to laugh about.  Bonne nuit Xx

 

 

 

 

 

Everywhere Is Different

Once upon a time (like a year ago) in a land far far away (that place with the camels), lived me, all alone in a hotel room… Hey, I can’t complain, I had clean sheets, a mini kitchen in my suite, a rooftop pool, free wifi and not to mention a brand new job and a sparkling new future. The thing is, I was escorted to and from the hotel anywhere and everywhere and taxis here are the way to go. I had no idea where I was, or how I was going to manage finding my way around the WORLD. Terrified doesn’t begin to describe it.

I used to be so afraid of the new places, getting lost and not knowing where to go, buying yogurt instead of milk because I don’t speak the language (yep, it happened). I have gotten used to the terrifying shopping trips now, usually with the help of my phone and a handy little translate app. I recently got lost on a single straight road, I am not kidding. But I managed my way out, drenched, laughing and loving my life. And then I bought toast.

I love travelling, and a really big part of travelling is getting lost. Sure it’s frustrating, but getting lost all by myself is what has made me find the most incredible places, meet the nicest people and find the small restaurants with the best food.

Once the hat goes on the smile follows and it stays there until the gloves come off and the hotel door shuts. The few new ones try to squeeze everything they can into the 24 hour layover, but most of the crew just hang out in the hotel.

After the 18 hour work day, everyone gets on the bus, exhausted but somehow still smiling. Most of the time, there will be dinner plans being made, either staying in, or going out in a group. Some of the crew want to see something specific, either a touristy thing or an opera or they’re going to meet friends. Others have their hearts set on going to the beach or to the mall (crew can SHOP, seriously if you ever bump into cabin crew in the mall, stick with them, they’ll teach you their ways, it is an art).

Depending on my own venture, I will either make plans with everyone, or opt for getting lost all by myself. Something I have learnt from having to memorise the maps, attractions, subways, alleys, restaurants and where the hotel is.. wait for it… not to memorise anything!! I just go with it. Eventually it all makes sense.. I didn’t need to break my head and be all worried. Yay for travelling stress-free!

So here goes, slowly but surely, this is how I went with it and what I have found along the way all over the world…

Travelling as a Passenger

There are a lot of really good things about having a job in Aviation, one of which is that we get discounted flights.  But do not be fooled by the whimsy of not needing to pay thousands of whichever currency you’re using, because airport chairs or floors can get incredibly uncomfortable if you have somewhere to be, urgently.  In my case, I need to get home, because my holiday is officially over and I need to get back to work.  I am 13 hours away from home now.  With only one flight that leaves in the next couple of hours and me sitting on a very uncomfortable surface with a lot of other people around me looking like they would kill me if I get a seat and they don’t, you should be able to understand that with great discount comes great anxiety attacks.

Not only do I have to be at the airport at least 2 hours before the flight departs, I also will not know whether I will board that flight until the boarding gates open.  So here I am , 2 hours before the flight, standing in line at the service desk.  The lady behind the desk is friendly, she understands, but still I have to take a seat and wait until they call me.  An hour goes by and I’ve had my fair share of coffee and I’ve watched an episode of Breaking Bad and I’m still waiting for the typical “Ladies and Gentlemen” announcement to happen.

I only have half an hour left until my fate is thrown at me, so I decide to pack everything just in case I need to hop up in a hurry. There is a man speaking to one of the Ground Staff, they have been offloaded because they’re child has an ear infection.  I feel sorry for them, but it makes my chances of getting onto the flight a lot better.  Staff traveling is a dog eat dog world, survival of the fittest and may the odds be ever in your favour all thrown together in a washing machine of tears and anger and laughter and relief.  UHG how is the time going by so slowly?!

“Ladies and Gentlemen, those of you travelling on staff travel please approach the check-in desk.”  Finally!  Just give it to me straight, yes or no?

YES!

The couple next to me got two seats as well, but the guy on my other side isn’t as lucky.  He was supposed to have a transit visa, because his onwards flight might have him stuck on the airport for longer than what is legal.  So the poor guy had a seat, but couldn’t be allowed on.  That makes no sense to me, why would you need a visa if you’re going to stay airside?  Anyway, I now have to run to the gate because the flight is already boarding and I am still standing at the desk.  “Bye-bye check-in luggage, have a fun ride downstairs, don’t get lost now!”

So I am speed walking with my Adidas sport bag as a carry-on because my friend borrowed my usual wheeled carry-on and all I can hear is the final call for my flight.  How?!  We JUST got our boarding passes.  And now I’m stuck in line behind about a thousand people to get through security.  Tick-tock security people!!!

Okay so 20 people later I am ripping my MacBook out of my handbag and tearing my jacket off and practically throwing my bags into the rubbery flappy mouth of the x-ray scanner and I run through the thing that beeps for every tiny bit of metal that exists.  On the other side I am egging the machine on like I am betting on a horse race, begging it to give my bags to me sooner so that I can shove everything I took out of the bags, back into the bags.  After half falling into my shoes that I had to remove because it was bound to beep, I am doing this weird speed wobble every 10 steps, you know walk walk walk faster wobble walk walk…  Passport Control!  Trying to manage getting my passport out of my handbag with one hand while walking and holding my carry-on over my other shoulder is insane!  How do people travel with children?!  Okay I have to smile at the official looking guy behind the desk.  He scans my passport and then stamps it and he double checks that it is in fact me in the picture before handing it back to me and saying I’ll have to run.  And he is grinning.  As if it is funny that I am sweaty and out of breath and it makes no sense because I have been at the airport for 2 hours.  And so I continue my speed wobble after thanking him for stamping my passport.  I can at least see the gate.

Bleep, my ticket is scanned and I start walking down the air bridge to the aircraft, which feels like another 10km away.  Finally greeted with a smile on board by one of the cabin crew, I waddle my way to my seat and I am being given the stink-eye by my fellow passengers for arriving so late.  Little do they know.

I think it was about 3 minutes after I boarded when they closed the last door, I plopped myself down onto my much softer airplane seat and settled in for the 13 hours that awaited me.  Shortly after, I watched the safety video and felt the plane jerk as we started to push back, the crew was told to arm their doors for departure.  The taxi was short and soon we were finally in the air.  Just after the seatbelt sign went off, about half the plane got up to do something or the other, nobody knows how everyone would desperately need something that very second, but the ruckus died down and finally the crew got around to start service.  They did not take my order yet, which makes sense, and they won’t until every other guest has had their choice.  So I am having a cup of tea and waiting patiently for them to get around to little old me, staff, travelling as a passenger.  At least my seat has a massage function!

Oh The Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss

Meeting New People

My horizons have broadened quite a bit in the last six months, I’ve been to a whole bunch of new countries, seen the greener grass that everyone always talks about and I’ve spent time with a whole bunch of different people.  Whether they are on the aircraft with me or on ground in the hotel or in another country altogether, people are different.

I’m walking through the aircraft introducing myself to my guests, one after the other… A honeymoon couple, a doctor, a business woman, a staff travel user, another couple and a VVIP.  Everyone gets the same greeting, tweaked to fit them personally.  I ask how they are, where they’ve been or where they’re travelling to, I briefly discuss the menu and I joke a bit to break the ice.

The couple are travelling to Paris for their honeymoon.  It’s freezing there now, but I guess the city is still beautiful to a couple in love.  They order yogurt and fruits, champagne and a bowl of cereal for after takeoff.

The Doctor is on his way to a massive conference about cancer.  He keeps it simple, just a cup of tea.

The business woman settles herself into her suite and looks at the menu, says she is vegetarian, doesn’t eat spicy food.  I will tailor make a menu for her.  She is on her way to Dubai for a meeting, and will be working and sleeping.  Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat.

The staff travel user keeps quiet, places his luggage under his seat and only asks for some orange juice.  He says to tend to the other guests before him.  I like this guy, he knows my world.  I walk away wondering who he could be.  Management? Nah he is too young.  Maybe a sibling or a friend.  Anyway.

The other couple orders before I can introduce myself, the husband says nothing.  She asks for tenderloin, potatoes, vegetables, wine, no dessert.  She thanks me, hands me her Louis Vuitton carry-on and smiles.

The VVIP laughs, he doesn’t want anything now, he also doesn’t speak much english. He just wants and a cheese sandwich.  Later, he says.  Now, he wants to watch a movie.  He points at Frozen.  I smile as I walk away.

After takeoff I prepare everyones aperitif orders, I start setting up for service and I make sure to give everyone everything they asked for.  It’s not too busy, the guests are content, the cabin is quiet, everyone is either eating or relaxing.  Just as I finish serving everyone and the crew clears all the tables, the honeymooners walk into the galley asking for me, so I take my gloves off and I follow her into the cabin.  She asks for lunch.  Lamb shank, potatoes, sauce.  Beef cheeks, parsnips, vegetables.  Wine.  I’m sure they JUST had breakfast.  So lunchtime is 10 minutes after breakfast.  Ovens on!

The Doctor would like to sleep, so we do his turndown, as well as the VVIP’s, the staff travel guy and the business woman.  Her door gets stuck when we try to close it, she doesn’t like that.  Lights off in the cabin, only the couples’ IFE screens are on.  After serving the honeymooners their extended breakfast / lunch, they watch a movie and they also then retire.  The other couple however, are restless.  They ate a bit later than the other guests, made them a special starter and after the palate cleanser I served the lady her main course.  When I returned with her husband’s fillet steak, she had placed her plate in front of him.  She was crying and staring at her phone, trembling, clenching her jaw.  Her husband has no words, he asks to take her food away.  He eats.

There is a medical emergency in Business Class, we get busy, the flight crew keeps calling to know whats going on and my cabin is still quiet and my guest is still crying and her husband is still eating.  I walk past their suite and she is throwing her salt and pepper shaker at him, knives, forks, plates everything.  Okay.  Her husband hands me his plate.  I ask if there is anything I can do, she just shakes her head and continues crying.  I go back to clean up the mess, wipe up the spilt wine and find the missing salt shaker behind the seat.  She is putting up the divider between their suites and he is pleading with her not to be like this.  We offer to turn down her suite, she only wants a pillow.  He stands quietly while we do his turndown and listen to his wife cry.

After a couple of hours of sleep and much needed quiet, the cabin slowly starts waking up, the VVIP wants his cheese sandwich now.  The Portuguese crew member is talking to him, they laugh and I know everything is fine.

After asking for a doctor on board, my guest offers his assistance and after seeing his license and passport we realise it is his twenty-fifth birthday.  So needless to say, I start preparing a birthday cake.  After he has his lunch, I give him his tiramisu birthday surprise.  I’ve never seen anyone this happy about a tiramisu.  Apparently it’s his favourite, he is amazed at the fact that I knew that.  Convinced I had called the ground from the cockpit to find out what his favourite things are, he happily sits and eats his birthday cake, drinks his espresso and smiles at me every time I pass his suite.

While preparing a cup of vanilla rose tea for the business woman who just woke up, the Portuguese crew member walks into the galley with the VVIP and he drops down on one knee.  She says he wants to marry me.  YEAH I think I can understand that part.  He says a bunch of stuff and she translates.  Says he has never met anyone more beautiful (oh I am flattered) and he wants to buy me a jet.  Hang on, WHAT?!  The guy wants to buy me a plane?  Goodness.  Uhm, how do I keep him happy but deny his expensive proposal?  So I tell him he is more than welcome to buy me the jet, but I would never be home, so I would have to think about it.  10 minutes until top of descent.

The business woman is drinking her tea and complaining about her back pain, says she wants to land right now and she wants to get off the plane straight away.  Unfortunately we are still 30000 ft in the air, so no doors will be opened anytime soon, but I offer her some painkillers and show her the massage function in the chair.

The staff travel guy awakes from his 10 hour nap and he asks for something to nibble on, anything, doesn’t want too much trouble.  So I give him breakfast.  Fried eggs, sausage, turkey bacon, mushrooms, toast, pastries, juice and coffee.  He is clearly appreciative, we start talking and I find out he is a flight attendant for Emirates.  His dad is a captain with Etihad.  I knew he was one of us.  Cabin Crew UNITE!

After making sure that the wife didn’t physically harm her husband in his sleep, showing the guests to the dressing room individually, securing the cabin, handing out last minute coffees and juices and asking my guests if they had a good trip, we strap ourselves in for landing.  I have a big day ahead of me, I’m meeting a new person.  I’ve perfected my makeup, I’ve made sure my house is perfect, I’ve planned the week ahead in perfect detail.  I’m smiling at what lies ahead, laughing, dancing.

We’ve landed and the doctor has given me his email address, the VVIP has been picked up by his pre-ordered Mercedes, the flight attendant has thanked me and told me how amazing we look in our new uniforms, the honeymooners ran out to be the first ones in the lounge, the business woman shouted at her phone and the couple stormed off.  I go to get dressed, turn on my phone and wait for 16 hours of missed messages to catch up with me while I do my security searches.

The messages caught up with me.  I stand and listen to the de-brief.  I walk away, go through security, collect my trunki.  I walk to the bus, the crew wondering why I’ve gone from dancing and laughing to quiet.  I tell them I’m just tired.  I lied.  The bus takes forever to get home but when it does I walk up the stairs into my apartment and I turn my music up as loud as I can.  Broken.  Jet lagged after a long day at work.

Every person is in their own world, wrestling with their own problems, laughing at their own jokes and expecting nothing less than first class.  People just have different perspectives.  Some people will eat EVERYTHING that they can possibly manage, others will not want to trouble us with anything but a bottle of water every now and then.  Some people complain about the little things and other people appreciate them.  Some people cry and make a scene and others stay quiet and keep out of the public eye.  In the end everyone gets off of the plane and goes about their lives as usual, but sometimes they need to be nudged into the right direction.

Even though all of this didn’t happen on one flight, this is in a nutshell what my days are like.  Compliments, complaints, happy and sad.  But I recover from the jet lag and I laugh at the messages from the people I care about and I know that tomorrow’s flight will be perfectly crazy, and that I’ll meet a new guest going somewhere else wanting something different.  My life is almost perfect right now.

Xx

Surviving Frequent Travelling

Last month I think I might have finally understood partly how new mothers feel.  You are able to sleep anywhere, eat anywhere and everything, for some reason you shower 3 times more than usual cause you’ve forgotten what day it was and most importantly you’ll do anything to block out noise.

Jet lag, times motherhood, equals frequent ultra long haul cabin crew.  Within a month I traveled East to West to East to West so many times that I couldn’t sleep unless the sun was up.  Even though some people were happy that I could stay up and chat all day,  I almost lost it.  Nah, I did lose it, I just can’t remember that I did.  So after I went to Sydney and my state of mind miraculously readjusted, I tried figuring out how to keep it that way.  I would be so tired that I’d sleep for 18 hours straight and that’s not only incredibly confusing and scary, its also unhealthy and I kept losing my days.

From napping to packing to getting on the plane, here’s how I stay sane…

I don’t take naps, I think its silly and I am the grumpiest person ever when I wake up from a nap, so I adjust my sleep.  I make sure that I get at least 5 – 8 hours sleep before my flight, cause you see, I need to be awake and happy at the same time.  So a lot of times I’ll be up through the night before a flight, like when I was studying for big exams in college…  Minus the strobe lights and “thirst quenching beverages”.

I’d have showered and packed before the sheep line up, otherwise every sheep would question my flight preparation.  Depending on the weather forecast, which should not be trusted, I try to have a little bit of everything in my trusty “Trunki”.  So I check the weather just to disregard it anyways, then  I pack my hooded leather jacket, a summer dress that looks good with tights, a pair of jeans and a shirt or two that works with everything. If its snowing I pack boots, if not, the boots stay.  So ballet flats and sandals work. I don’t know where my trip will lead me, so I pack a pretty little black dress and a pair of heels just in case.  Obviously I have the usual toothbrush, underwear, sleepwear, etc.  Then I have learnt to pack a small carton thingy of milk, because the hotels give minuscule amounts and I like a lot of milk in my tea / coffee (also packed in teeny amounts).  Oh and swimwear!  Cause there’s bound to be a pool or a beach or a jacuzzi or something.

My carry on has the usual on-board black crew pajamas for the crazy far flights, together with facial water spray, lip balm, hairspray, millions of extra bobby pins, toothbrush and toothpaste and my make-up (all liquids and gels separated into clear plastic bags for customs).  I also carry my tablet, camera, a folder with paperwork, my legal documents and licenses, wallet with the correct currency if I was bothered enough to go exchange before hand, my cabin shoes, trench-coat and finally my on-board uniform.

Thank goodness for air conditioning and blackout curtains.

After my 7th alarm has given up on me, I force myself out of my comfy pillow-nest and quickly make my bed before I change my mind.  Kettle on.  YouTube playlist on.  As I walk back into my room with a hot cup in my hand, I smile at the sound of the lyrics… da da da “I flick the switch on the generator…..” and I do a little happy dance.  After dance-fighting myself into my compression tights for flying, it takes me about 10 minutes to do my makeup, then about 5 minutes to make the signature low-bun then about 5 minutes to decide whether I should have breakfast.  After either having breakfast or not, I throw my charger and my make-up into my carry-on, I lock my Trunki bag.  I finish getting dressed and I chuck my phone and my flight journal into my handbag, and earphones for blocking out the noise on the bus and making a video call in public.  Out the front door.  Whatever I’ve forgotten I’ll survive without for a couple of nights, or I’ll walk into the nearest mall.  I know I have the basics, I’ll survive.

If I am travelling as a guest (happens more often than you’d think) surviving on the plane is just about securing yourself a window seat and scaring the people next to you into moving away, if you’re in economy.  Normally I am in business class, cause it’s nice and I get to sleep more, and I don’t have to scare anyone.  I just throw on the noise-cancelling headset and watch every movie that the in-flight entertainment has to offer, or connect to the wi-fi and go about my business as per usual with the crew happily bringing me whatever I want.

If I am working and everyone in first class has eaten and is asleep, I survive by walking around and annoying the other crew in the other galleys.  Or if the crew isn’t as fun as I’d hoped, I just sit in the cockpit and wait for something interesting to never happen.

I never shower right after a long flight, it’s something about your skin and it being bad after the dehydration on the plane or whatever, so I just moisturise.  And depending what time it is, I either go to sleep or I go out into the city and explore.  After a couple of hours exploring, having dinner with the crew at a cute little hidden place that the locals recommended,and the sun is setting, I’d be back at the hotel taking a shower and getting ready for a good nights sleep.

Getting back onto the plane for the ride home is the part that sucks for everyone going back home after a fun holiday, but if I have gotten enough sleep, I’ve eaten a good meal and seen the sun shine for a while, I can handle it just barely to smile at the fact that I got to experience a new country.  Even though travelling is tough on my mind and my body, I am happily exhausted by the time I get back home.  I throw on my most comfortable shirt and I try to relax.  I try not to be bored, I Skype, a lot (ask my flatmates).  I go outside, I go shopping, I go to the beach, I go have lunch, anything. Cause the next time I lock myself in an airplane for 16 hours (either as crew or as a guest), I need to make sure I smile at the people who keep me company.

Supernumerary 2

We’ve made it through the first one.  I have Ian at my side, we’ve been training together.  The chef looks friendly enough, I guess.  We’re going to London and no matter how scary everyone makes this flight out to be, we’re excited!  So we silently finish our briefing and we march over to the Boeing 777 that’s taking us to the UK.

On board we start our security searches, Ian will be in the cabin and I’ll be in the galley, on the return sector we will swap.  So I’ve changed into my chef’s uniform and I’ve started breaking seals and checking the carts.  Our guests board about 10 minutes later and we start serving welcome drinks.  Hayyakum.

“Cabin crew seats for departure” and we’re off.  All smiles. Can’t believe I’m going to be by myself next time.

7 hours later I’m sealing all the carts that stay on board, my mind is rushing knowing that this is the last time I have someone to show me how and what.  Chef reassures me that it’ll all make sense and that we will get used to it.  We rush to the economy galley and we sit down as quick as we can, buckle up and ready for landing.

Ian and I are determined to see some of London.  Th crew think we are nuts, but we’re suppi’s, we don’t know much.  So once were finally checked in, I start the walk to my hotel room.  This place is creepy.  Long dimly lit hallways and quiet rooms, looks like it could have been a hospital ages ago, but instead of white tiles, light brown carpet fills the hallways and the rooms.  I rush myself out of my uniform and into London weather-proof clothes.  Gotta get out of this place.

Ian meets me downstairs in shorts, this isn’t exactly bikini weather, so he goes back upstairs.  Finally after figuring out how to get into the city, we find ourselves on a big red bus back to the airport.  We have to catch a train to Piccadilly Circus.  At the airport train station, we find the nearest thing that looks like it could spit out a train ticket, but we’re soon met by an “Assistant” to help us get a handy little card called an Oyster Card (weird) for public transport in London.  And about 5 minutes later were on a train.

And about 45 minutes later we’re still on a train.

Finally we get off and we walk straight onto what looks like the Times Square of London.  And it’s raining, of course!  Damn I’m starving, Ian is determined to have Fish & Chips.  So we start to walk around.  And its still raining.  I find myself in a bookstore asking a girl where to go have dinner, she points us in the right direction and after two hours of running around the streets of London, we finally decide to eat at a small little random place we found.  Two plates of battered fish and soggy chips later, we are once again getting rained on.

The nearest taxi picks us up and were taken to the Big Ben, smack right next to it.  Problem is, it’s dark out, there are no other taxis around us now and, you guessed it, it’s raining.  So we’ve made peace with the fact that our socks inside our shoes are soaked in the little puddles of water we’re carrying with us, the map we had is now paper mache and we have no idea where we are or how to get back to the train station.  The lady standing next to us at the bus stop is giggling at us as Ian and I are laughing so hard our stomachs hurt.  So he starts counting down.. 3, 2, 1 and we’re sprinting down the street in the general direction of somewhere else.

We are now taking pictures and we’re drenched and loving London.  Ah finally, a taxi.  The taxi driver laughs at our state and drops us at the train station.   I have to fight to stay awake, bed will be good.  45 minutes later and we’re back on the big red bus to the hotel.

Luckily I am way too tired to care about the ghosts who haunt this creepy place, I turn my AC down as far as it will go and I cuddle up for a good nights sleep.  Sweet bliss.

Supernumerary

I remember it like it was yesterday.  I ran to my laptop, threw open the screen and typed my password in as fast as I could manage.  And there it was, my first ever roster..  

Geneva, Switzerland was to be my first ever destination.  My first supernumerary flight or suppi, to make it easier.  Preparing for the flight was insane, trying to remember everything they taught us.  I had to pack, I had to do a quick online search for what to pack, I had to get my uniform dry cleaned, my buttons had to be put into my jacket, my trolley bag had to be stocked with first class order forms and my Cabin Crew Quick Reference guide so that I don’t forget any part of safety searches.  And on top of that I had to make sure that I knew everything there is to be know about the airport in Geneva, what aircraft we were on, what the service was, who the crew was, and most importantly, whether I packed extra underwear.  I was sh….. nervous.  I was definitely nervous.

Luckily I had about 2 weeks to do all that.  So I sat in service training waiting for my mom to respond to my text trying to figure out whether she will be at my graduation or not.  I was flying her to Abu Dhabi to visit for 10 days.  I couldn’t wait.  BUT I had to pass service first, so back to how to serve Champagne at 40000ft it was for the moment.

My trainers were amazing, I mean they still are.  I could ask them anything, and on top of that, they were still flying as Chefs as well, so honestly they were just available for any question.  Mostly at this stage they were interested in what our first flights were.  I had some random chef as my first suppi chef and was reassured that he is really nice and that I shouldn’t worry..

So I graduated and I smiled and waved and shook the hands of all my trainers and my new managers and the heads of the departments, and I walked out of the room knowing that within a couple of days my first flight is upon me.  And just as I thought that, my trainer comes to me all smiley “see you tomorrow morning, crew changes”.

WHAT?  Ha!  My service trainer was now my suppi chef.  So happy.  All the crazy worries just disappeared and I could relax for the first time in weeks.  Now whether or not he intentionally put himself on my flight or not is still a mystery, but I was happy none the less.

A sleepless night and a lot of prep and pep talk from my mom later and I’m standing outside in my uniform waiting for pickup.  The bus is late, apparently it’s normal.  I get to the airport and I follow the crew, cause what on earth else should I do?  I go through security screening and check myself in and report for duty.  I get my baggage tags, tag my bag and I leave my massive “Trunki” suitcase to be loaded onto the A330-300 that will take us all to Geneva.  Moments later I am in the mail room picking up the newest revision of our safety manuals and realize that there is a lot that goes into running an airline.  Next minute I’m standing in the hallway with my trainer/suppi chef waiting to go into briefing.

My Cabin Manager starts:  “Good morning everyone, everybody has all their legal documents? All fit to operate this flight EY051 to Geneva?”

Yes….?

“Right, please introduce yourselves.”

Mark says his bit:  “Morning, name is Mark, I’m from Scotland, Imke over here will be your In-Flight Chef for the flight, I will be your onboard coach.”

Wait… WHAT?! “Hi, my name is Imke, I’m from South Africa and I speak Afrikaans, Mark is insane, I will be your suppi chef on this flight.”

I laughed from start to finish, this was going to be a good day.  Again we went through security, and got onto a bus that takes us to the aircraft. As soon as we got on, we got dressed in our Chefs whites and Mark started his security search and set up the cabin with the cabin crew in First Class.  Good grief they were quick.  The flight was eye-opening.  The amount of stuff I learnt in the 7 hours I spent in a galley on a plane made all my training make sense.  I had to take orders, pour drinks, cook food, plate desserts, make notes (I didn’t make notes) and I had to make sure my makeup was up to standard, operate doors, secure the cabin, clear coffee and tea and smile.  Thank goodness for suppi flights with great chefs!

We rush off the plane at the end on the flight and it hit me.  I was in cabin crew uniform, walking through an airport somewhere in Switzerland smiling like I’ve never known how to smile, pulling my trolley bag and laughing with the rest of the crew.  I was so happy.  Tired, but happy.  This was the day my world changed, my horizons broadened and my soul settled down.  I am a chef, but I’m cabin crew at heart.

 

 

 

TRAINING

Obviously I can’t go into detail, but training was tiring, it was brutal.

Mentally and physically I was tested to breaking point.

This is why…

Transport picked us up at 5:40.  Then we drive to the Etihad Training Academy for 40 minutes.  When we get there, we have time for coffee, checking our classroom for the day and we go sit down.  We were given rules to live by, how to dress, how to walk, how to act.  Smile ALWAYS.  We go from classroom to classroom week by week and we fall asleep on the bus ride home.  Then we get home and we eat.  And then we study, we do our homework and prep for the next day.  Then we sleep and it all starts over again.

We were taught that daily we needed to look immaculate.  Dressed in black and white, everyone at the academy knew that we were the new kids.  Everyone is always smiling, happy and laughing.  The trainers are awesome.

Our Induction Trainers in the first week taught us about the company, about who to contact when, how to access our new email accounts and see our rosters.  We went for a thorough medical examination, vaccinations (ouch) and x-rays.  We had our picture taken for our company ID’s and we were fitted for our new uniforms.

In the second week we met our Safety Trainers.  They were excellent.  Spending two weeks in their loving care and having them cram a million pages of information into our brains was insane.  We had simulation sessions, to simulate emergency situations.  We fought real fires and shouted our lungs out.  We learned how to be assertive in stressful situations and we were moulded into not only immaculately looking, but also calm and well trained cabin crew.  

Followed by making sure our aircraft is kept safe, we were given First Aid Training.  We were taught how to handle severe medical situations, including childbirth and anaphylaxis.  We are able to handle just about any medical emergency while still keeping our aircraft safe and looking perfect while doing so.

After that we were given over to the Service Trainers, they stopped at nothing to make sure we knew everything about every ingredient and every wine and every piece of linen on the aircraft.  They polished us.  We were explained how to use all the equipment on board, from oven to skillet to toaster and even the coffee maker.  And then there was the ‘How to speak’ lesson, explaining to us how to address VVIP’s and end even children.  Working in First Class takes dedication.

Honestly after seven weeks of little sleep, lots of study, and information overload to the point of mushy-brain syndrome, I am confidently walking into briefings and onto aircraft with my head held high, feeling safe and capable.  The training was intense, but thorough and an incredible amount of fun and laughter.

GETTING THERE

After all the insanity of packing and running around to find the right shoes and stockings and hairnets (believe me you need loads) I finally am driving to the airport.  Saying my goodbyes have been sad, but so much fun.  I made the most of the time I had with my friend and family.  Now I’m driving, SO many things in the car, and I’ve never been more excited, but I’m scared.  My gran is with me and my mom, and she’s telling me to remember all the tidbits of information on how to stay healthy.  My mom is quiet, I think it just hit her that I’m moving to another country.  In the last couple of weeks, I was home. 

We get to the airport and I mission my massive luggage out of the car and onto a trolley.  We weave through hundreds of people on the same mission as me.  People are crying and laughing and having lunch and dinner and calling each other and running and sitting and unpacking and repacking.  Its chaos.

I’m standing in line, wearing a black dress with my hair dead straight and my jacket draped over my arm.  At the check-in counter the lady is so friendly, she addresses me by my last name (I am now Miss Meintjes) and asks if I’m ready for the ride of my life.  Now I’m hoping she’s talking about the new job and not the plane I’m boarding in a couple of hours.  I smile, but I’m sure I’ll cry soon.  I ran through the airport looking for the other guy joining with me, Gareth, also a chef.  Finally, I cant find him and I HAVE to go through security or I’ll miss my flight.

I look over to my mom, my gran and my two friends.  And I instantly burst into tears.  Goodbyes suck, but I have to go.  So I swallow my tears, I hug them as tight as I can and I walk ever confidently head held high with my heart stuck in my throat, through to security.  Then I get called back.  “Miss Meintjes?”  Yeah that’s me? “You have a new ticket, we’ve upgraded you to Business Class” 🙂 Thank you very much! “Enjoy”

Boarded, and seated next to Gareth (haha found him!) we’re off to Abu Dhabi.  The Food And Beverage Manager comes over, offers me a glass of Champagne, I happily accept and Gareth and I cheers to our new future.

We’ve taken off and I’m being offered a menu.  Service is perfect.  The F&B Manager is amazing, he makes us feel as if we’ve been part of the company for years!  Settling into my new life, one massage option at a time and 600 hours of entertainment on EBox, lets do this.

After landing, the madness starts.  We walk into the unknown oven.  Good grief its hot and humid.  Down the steps to the bus, past loads of Etihad planes standing in a row.  We get out of the bus, into the lovely air conditioned airport (phew!) and mission our way through all the people.  We have fast track cards, so we get helped along the way, shown where to go and soon we’re standing in a line with two people in front of us.  At the counter, we’re asked for our passports and visas, and we receive our original visa.  Then we walk around the corner to the eye-scan (it really happens) and we get greeted and our passports get stamped.  Walk through more security and WELCOME TO ABU DHABI!

As soon as we get our baggage, we walk down a ramp and say hello to our new home.  We’re greeted by a driver shouting our names and escorted back into the heat of the outside.  3 minutes later a Mercedes drives up and the driver smiles says Hayyakum and starts packing our bags into the back of the car.  After about 40 minutes we arrive at our hotel.  My baggage is taken away to who knows where, and we go to check in.

Room 408.  I have a kitchen in my hotel room, someone must have told them I’m a chef.  I connected to the wifi and I called my mom.  Sleep time.  Exhausted.  So happy.