Back in time!
Jan. 10th, 2008 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mad_andySo. As my desktop is having Issues right now - for some reason it keeps shutting itself down because it gets too hot, and I suspect it's knackered - I'm on my laptop. And on my laptop is the writeup I did of the Gamma Ray fan party.
And as I know that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rdyfrde wanted to see it...
One Goes Mad In Hamburg
So. With the release of a new album the Gamma Ray fan club decided to run one of its parties in the band’s home city, Hamburg. As a fan club member, I got an invite - and thought the hell with it, I am so there.
OK, so it took a bit of finessing (and outright begging) to get the time off, but once we had that sorted we were green and go. Slay was none too amused, but as I pointed out to him he wasn’t that crazy about the band so it made sense for me not to take him. Or even tell him about it until after I’d booked the flights, and that decision will no doubt come back to haunt me at some time in the future!
Whatever the whys and wherefores I set off on Friday morning scared half to death but determined. So I’d never done the travelling alone thing before - I’d always been meeting up with someone, or meeting someone at the airport or something like that - but I’m a big girl, I know how it all works and I can talk to anyone so no problem. Flights booked, car parking for my darling Mara so she’d be safe while I was away, hotel booked online, no worries.
Stansted was, as usual, about as much fun as a good solid kick in the head, but nothing I’m not used to. So it all went smoothly until we landed at Lubeck, and what I saw out the window of the plane as it taxied made me frown.
Hamburg - big city.
Lubeck airport - shed.
Hmm.
So it turns out that the airport is about 70 kilometers outside the city, and there’s a shuttle bus that runs to the city for each flight. Which I was about to miss...
Flung myself on board and hoped like hell it wasn’t an omen. Not to mention how the hell I was going to get back on Monday. Still, worry about that later - once I was in the central bus station all would be well, I was sure.
Central bus station, Hamburg. Pretty much the same as all such structures anywhere in the world; noisy, crowded, full of travellers and drunks, bright lights and the smell of diesel fumes. Arching architecture and dirt, grubby and generally unpleasant. I stood and smoked, stared around myself to get a feel of the place. Brusque and intimidating to the nervous traveller, but I’d expected that; so I went off in search of an information booth, confident that my forward planning and a taxi ride would have me relaxing very shortly.
The very nice man spoke impeccable English, so I showed him my printout of my hotel reservation and said how do I get here please?
Er, he said. Oh dear.
My stomach dropped.
This hotel, he said gently, is not in Hamburg.
I blinked at him. Er, what?
This hotel is in Stade. See? he said, and tapped the address. I’d assumed Stade was a district within the city. It isn’t. S-T-A-D-E, he pointed out patiently.
Oh, shit, I said. How do I get there then?
It’s over an hour away by train, he told me, speaking very calmly as though to a nervous animal. Go to the main train station, you should be able to get there. He told me where to go and I wandered off in a daze, the cold fingers of panic beginning to scratch at my spine. How was I going to find it? How would I get back tomorrow? How would I then get back to Stade after the party? Nuts.
Stared at an automatic ticket machine in the station. A very nice man pointed out to me how to buy a ticket, and as he babbled on (but very kindly, as I think I was a bit wild eyed and white faced at this point) I thought, my God, this is too much.
So I thanked him and went back up to the open air, and thought seriously about just sitting down in a heap and crying. See, it’s not the nicest area of the city around there; I could see a couple of sex shops, sleazy bars, intimidatingly loud drunks... oh my god I’m gonna die.
Spotted a hotel. Fuck it, that’s gotta beat just giving up and dying, see if they have a room.
The ladies at reception were a bit startled, I think, to have this disheveled, pale and clearly utterly freaked out individual blow into their nice tidy reception. Thank god, one of them actually was English, so language wasn’t a problem. I begged - and I do mean begged - for a room. Nope, nothing there, and I looked at her and felt like bursting into tears. She took pity on me, rang around another couple of hotels (thank god for hotel chains) and said yes, this place here has a room. 99 Euros? she said, a note of doubt in her voice. Obviously I looked as though I didn’t have a cent to my name, but I just said that’s fine, how do I get there?
One map and slow, careful explanation later and off I went to find the hotel Eleazar. Found it, down a slightly sleazy back street that had me wondering if this whole screw up was karmic.
The nice man (I have been so blessed this trip) again took pity on me, and was very helpful indeed; he seemed rather embarrassed to be charging me a fairly serious amount of money for a room which even he admitted was a bit grotty. Insisted I went and looked at it first. I stuck my head around the door: single bed, sink, bog, shower. Er, yeah? It’s a roof over my head, that’ll do me, squire.
Yes please, can I have it for three nights?
He blinked at me a bit. I think he was expecting me to ask him if he had anything nicer, but at this point I would have cried for joy to be allowed to sleep in a shed. (As long as it had a lock on the door.) He was rather pleased to be able to give me a good price for the last night, and overall the bill wasn’t too horrific. Although I shall be having some sharp words with the fucking internet site that I booked the original hotel through - as far as I’m concerned, an hour outside the city is not four kilometers away from the area I wanted! Bastards.
So I staggered off, dumped my gear, and laid down for a bit. Nice as it would have been to crawl into bed at that point I had to eat, and had seen a McDonald's at the bus station. I know, hardly authentic but cheap, bright, clean and recognisable. So, remembering my original route I set off to find the bus station again, taking a slightly better look at the area. Holy shit, talk about sleazy - sex shops and grubby bars, small groups of swarthy men eyeing me as I walked past, drunks and rubbish. Fuck. I slunk into McDs, ate and scuttled back to the hotel, where I discovered that I had forgotten to bring my hairbrush.
So there could have been tears but instead there was my Archos, its spiffy speakers, Zico Chain and a hot shower. Perhaps things would look better in the morning....
And as I know that
rdyfrde wanted to see it...One Goes Mad In Hamburg
So. With the release of a new album the Gamma Ray fan club decided to run one of its parties in the band’s home city, Hamburg. As a fan club member, I got an invite - and thought the hell with it, I am so there.
OK, so it took a bit of finessing (and outright begging) to get the time off, but once we had that sorted we were green and go. Slay was none too amused, but as I pointed out to him he wasn’t that crazy about the band so it made sense for me not to take him. Or even tell him about it until after I’d booked the flights, and that decision will no doubt come back to haunt me at some time in the future!
Whatever the whys and wherefores I set off on Friday morning scared half to death but determined. So I’d never done the travelling alone thing before - I’d always been meeting up with someone, or meeting someone at the airport or something like that - but I’m a big girl, I know how it all works and I can talk to anyone so no problem. Flights booked, car parking for my darling Mara so she’d be safe while I was away, hotel booked online, no worries.
Stansted was, as usual, about as much fun as a good solid kick in the head, but nothing I’m not used to. So it all went smoothly until we landed at Lubeck, and what I saw out the window of the plane as it taxied made me frown.
Hamburg - big city.
Lubeck airport - shed.
Hmm.
So it turns out that the airport is about 70 kilometers outside the city, and there’s a shuttle bus that runs to the city for each flight. Which I was about to miss...
Flung myself on board and hoped like hell it wasn’t an omen. Not to mention how the hell I was going to get back on Monday. Still, worry about that later - once I was in the central bus station all would be well, I was sure.
Central bus station, Hamburg. Pretty much the same as all such structures anywhere in the world; noisy, crowded, full of travellers and drunks, bright lights and the smell of diesel fumes. Arching architecture and dirt, grubby and generally unpleasant. I stood and smoked, stared around myself to get a feel of the place. Brusque and intimidating to the nervous traveller, but I’d expected that; so I went off in search of an information booth, confident that my forward planning and a taxi ride would have me relaxing very shortly.
The very nice man spoke impeccable English, so I showed him my printout of my hotel reservation and said how do I get here please?
Er, he said. Oh dear.
My stomach dropped.
This hotel, he said gently, is not in Hamburg.
I blinked at him. Er, what?
This hotel is in Stade. See? he said, and tapped the address. I’d assumed Stade was a district within the city. It isn’t. S-T-A-D-E, he pointed out patiently.
Oh, shit, I said. How do I get there then?
It’s over an hour away by train, he told me, speaking very calmly as though to a nervous animal. Go to the main train station, you should be able to get there. He told me where to go and I wandered off in a daze, the cold fingers of panic beginning to scratch at my spine. How was I going to find it? How would I get back tomorrow? How would I then get back to Stade after the party? Nuts.
Stared at an automatic ticket machine in the station. A very nice man pointed out to me how to buy a ticket, and as he babbled on (but very kindly, as I think I was a bit wild eyed and white faced at this point) I thought, my God, this is too much.
So I thanked him and went back up to the open air, and thought seriously about just sitting down in a heap and crying. See, it’s not the nicest area of the city around there; I could see a couple of sex shops, sleazy bars, intimidatingly loud drunks... oh my god I’m gonna die.
Spotted a hotel. Fuck it, that’s gotta beat just giving up and dying, see if they have a room.
The ladies at reception were a bit startled, I think, to have this disheveled, pale and clearly utterly freaked out individual blow into their nice tidy reception. Thank god, one of them actually was English, so language wasn’t a problem. I begged - and I do mean begged - for a room. Nope, nothing there, and I looked at her and felt like bursting into tears. She took pity on me, rang around another couple of hotels (thank god for hotel chains) and said yes, this place here has a room. 99 Euros? she said, a note of doubt in her voice. Obviously I looked as though I didn’t have a cent to my name, but I just said that’s fine, how do I get there?
One map and slow, careful explanation later and off I went to find the hotel Eleazar. Found it, down a slightly sleazy back street that had me wondering if this whole screw up was karmic.
The nice man (I have been so blessed this trip) again took pity on me, and was very helpful indeed; he seemed rather embarrassed to be charging me a fairly serious amount of money for a room which even he admitted was a bit grotty. Insisted I went and looked at it first. I stuck my head around the door: single bed, sink, bog, shower. Er, yeah? It’s a roof over my head, that’ll do me, squire.
Yes please, can I have it for three nights?
He blinked at me a bit. I think he was expecting me to ask him if he had anything nicer, but at this point I would have cried for joy to be allowed to sleep in a shed. (As long as it had a lock on the door.) He was rather pleased to be able to give me a good price for the last night, and overall the bill wasn’t too horrific. Although I shall be having some sharp words with the fucking internet site that I booked the original hotel through - as far as I’m concerned, an hour outside the city is not four kilometers away from the area I wanted! Bastards.
So I staggered off, dumped my gear, and laid down for a bit. Nice as it would have been to crawl into bed at that point I had to eat, and had seen a McDonald's at the bus station. I know, hardly authentic but cheap, bright, clean and recognisable. So, remembering my original route I set off to find the bus station again, taking a slightly better look at the area. Holy shit, talk about sleazy - sex shops and grubby bars, small groups of swarthy men eyeing me as I walked past, drunks and rubbish. Fuck. I slunk into McDs, ate and scuttled back to the hotel, where I discovered that I had forgotten to bring my hairbrush.
So there could have been tears but instead there was my Archos, its spiffy speakers, Zico Chain and a hot shower. Perhaps things would look better in the morning....
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Date: 2008-01-11 12:40 am (UTC)*runs off to read part 2*