The Scariest Flight of My Life

It’s a good thing that our last flight brought us home. I don’t think I can ever get on another plane again. Ever since my first flight brought about the knowledge that my ears don’t equalize, causing excruciating pain on the descent, I have never been excited to get on a plane. But this string of flights was it for me. Max and I were en route to San Francisco from Taipei by way of Tokyo. Honestly, nothing seemed amiss. We had just been treated to an unexpected and magnificent view of what I quickly realized could only be Mount Fuji. It looks like a castle in heaven, its broad cone shape puncturing the clouds.

I swiped the picture here since I was in such awe, I didn’t even take a picture.

My complete peace was quickly replaced by a terror that I hope to never experience again. We were circling around the airport, made apparent by the gentle tilt of the wings for an extended period of time, oh about 20 minutes. The pilot finally gets on the intercom and announces, “Folks, you may have noticed we have been circling the airport. There is a dangerous amount of wind, so the air traffic controller wants to give each aircraft plenty of room to land in case of emergency. We shall be on the ground shortly.” Translation: I am scared to death but I want to convey to everyone that I am a competent pilot.

It was now time to grip something. Anything. Max and I did not hold hands.

I would like to say I had my life flashing before my eyes, that I was grateful for having lived my dream to travel overseas. But honestly there wasn’t time. As the pilot made his approach, lowering closer to the ground, I could feel the plane shudder and shake. There was a jolt this way and that. The three foot grasses that flank the runways were sideways. The wind was making pretty ripples in the grass, but the wind sock was waving maniacally, violently. I both wanted to close my eyes tight and stare out the window. Staring out the window won out. When the plane was about 20 feet off the ground, it pitched hard to the right. The wing looked like it was going to make contact, and then it leveled, and we shot back up into the air about 50 feet. I will never know whether the pilot brought the plane up or were the ferocious winds playing with the plane, rendering it a flimsy paper model? By this point everyone was gasping for air, cussing, and yes, even laughing. Max was next to me laughing. It didn’t seem like the nervous but belly-nonetheless-laughing of the older gentleman behind us. I could have sworn Max said, “Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” The wife of the man behind us said, “It’s not funny!” Just as I emphatically exclaimed as if in unison to Max, “it’s not funny!” The plane dipped down and shot up a few more times, and then suddenly we hit the ground and all we made it safely. But every passenger on that plane let out a huge audible sigh of relief, among a chorus of the most favorite of four letter words.

I guess subconsciously we did not want to get back on a plane after such a questionable landing, so we meandered through the Tokyo airport for awhile. This is the best airport I have ever seen. Not only is it well-stocked with impossible-to-get-in-the-States Japanese toys, but it has pay by the hour sleeping rooms, smoking rooms with automatic doors, and being Japan, it is clean! We really could have used all of these amenities in Newark where we had the displeasure of being caged into the terminal. Not that I smoke much, but after super stressful situations, a drag or two is nice after you think you will lose your life—ironically. The entire terminal had become a desolate ghost town when I heard “Mr. Max Miller and Miss Sarah Dubel, would you please come to gate 43.” To hear your name on a PA system is a bit unsettling but then to hear it repeated over and over like a mantra is even more so. We took off toward our gate and did not have to push people out of the way since we were the only ones there. Even though the sun was still up, the airport was deserted, which was quite weird. We got there and the rest of the plane was politely waiting for us, and had to wait even longer so that Max’s bag could be “randomly” searched. I am certain that we became suspicious terrorists because of our late board. This woman did everything short of unstitching Max’s wallet to see what he could have hidden under the leather.

I sort of wish we had missed the plane, because if our landing into Narita had been a problem, the flight over the Pacific became what I swore was the ride of a life. We weren’t looking forward to our eleven hour trip, but were committed to it nonetheless. I was amazed that we all did not lose our lunch, urrr dinner. It was soon into the flight, and it was sudden. As suddenly as an earthquake strikes, came the constant shudder of violent turbulence….for hours. The flight crew had to suspend the dinner service because it was too dangerous to continue. During the distribution of meals and drinks, they kept instinctively crouching down as the plane shook and shimmied. Our guy said, “Shit!” I asked, “Aren’t you used to this?” and he said, “It hasn’t been this bad in awhile.” The pilot suspended the service so as not to risk any broken necks and it is a good thing he did, because the plane suddenly went into a deep freefall and it was amazing to see the synchronization of the passengers holding up their drinks as their liquid tossed into the air. It looked like party tricks, as if everyone decided on the count of three that they were going to flip their drink out of the cups and catch it again, as a chef does when pan flipping.

Things started to get serious and I had a good dose of PTSD from the ’89 Loma Prieta quake. More than twenty years later, I found myself hiding in Max’s shirt like a child….for a long time as people looked on with sympathy. Embarrassing, yes. But everything about turbulence suggests an earthquake. The walls of the plane shake as the walls of a building. It becomes loud, deafeningly so. It leaves you wondering if it will all be ok, and you don’t know when it will stop. And the causes are not exactly tangible. Airstreams? Shifting tectonic plates? I can’t see them, so they are all the scarier.

See A Resemblance?

Max and I decided it would be fun to take the subway all the way to the end of a line in New York City. We ended up going to Coney Island. Before visiting, I had preconceived notions of a quaint place, with ladies walking around in dresses circa 1900, carrying parasols over their shoulders in one hand, little boys dressed in suspenders in the other. This was definitely not the case. Among the scantily clad tattooed young teenagers, we saw many other interesting characters including this one:

This woman struck me as incredibly interesting and then I saw her again at the East Side Gallery. More to come on this amazing open-air gallery later. Perhaps she was the model for this painting 20 years earlier?

Tribute to Luigi Diamanti

I would like to pay homage where homage is due to Luigi Diamanti, creator of the beautiful vintage world map that I am lucky enough to be able to use for free with mention of Luigi. This is mandatory, but in my mind is voluntary. Digital art at its finest! I love the way it makes me feel about my travels. There is always something new to discover about the world. I know no more today than explorers and traveler's of vintage times. The world changes so rapidly, it is impossible to know any more today, than the greatest explorers in history.

Thank you Mr. Diamanti!

You can see his portfolio here.

Tempelhof

We have been sleeping more than 11 hours every night for the last week. But today we ventured out for the first time. We are staying one block away from Tempelhof Airport, site of the Berlin airlift, just one more layer of Berlin’s rich history that I was not privy to prior, but one that I am super excited to learn about.

As you can see, it is quite a beautiful day...we are lucky. Berliners have not been blessed with an early spring. In fact, just two weeks ago, they were still experiencing winter temps in May. Tempelhof field has just been converted to a huge park where people come to fly LED-lit kites at night, roller-blade by day and BBQ around the clock.

I wish I had my roller-blades! This runway is a roller-blading dream! Really, the sidewalks in this neighborhood are all cobblestone.

We got our first glimpse of Alexanderplatz, Berlin’s edition of the Seattle Space Needle, Toronto’s CN Tower, etc. It has been said that the best place to view Berlin is to go to the tower because it is the only view of Berlin that is not spoiled by the tower itself. “Alex” as the tower is commonly referred as, has been a great landmark so that we don’t get lost—as much.

Look to the right, you can see it way in the background.

Ok, and closer up:

The park, being in Neukölln, has made the residents worried about gentrification. No other city I have previously visited has been so obviously divided as the neighborhoods here. Every decade, one neighborhood after another goes through the gentrification process. Neukölln is next. The park just speeds up the process of increasing rents, yuppie bars, and boutique hotels.

But I am just happy to be here at this point in time when the park is in its infant stages of development, happy to be staying in a neighborhood which personality mimics mine. Anti-establishment, a bit away from the center of things, and one that is just being discovered. Or maybe just by me.

Neukölln

I have finally emerged from the jet lag fog and have taken the first notes of the world around me. I feel like a bear coming out of hibernation, as well as a young child debuting on stage amidst very bright stage lights. I am in culture shock and I am humbled by this. I always thought myself at one with the world, foreseeing that I would be instantaneously comfortable anywhere. This has not been the case.

We set up housing for Berlin prior to arrival and did absolutely no research beforehand. We are renting a room in a flat with an artist we literally passed in the sky from Iceland. She is there now on an artists retreat of some sort. I really do not like Neukölln. It is "decorated" with graffiti that resembles vandalism more than art.

I think I missed history class the day the teacher discussed the Turkish population in Germany. I am culturally shocked by the multitudes of Turkish people here. Don't get me wrong, I don't have a racist bone in my body. It is just a reminder to not hold any expectations. I was expecting a native German population. You know, blue-eyed, blond-haired folks like me. This is not the Germany I was expecting.

Little did I know that Turks are the largest ethnic minority here. Upon doing some research, Turks originally came to Germany in the 1960's since there was vast unemployment in Turkey and a labor shortage in Germany. Thus, many Turkish came to Germany to make money and find a new life, most probably with the idea that they would return to Turkey to make this new life, with the money they had made.

At second glance, the Turkish population here is just as much German as the native German population is.

Read more about the Türkisch in Germany here: Turks in Germany. Quite an interesting story they have.

I am definitely excited to be in such an ethnically diverse place!

Petta Reddast

After getting to the Keflavik airport on Thursday and discovering that our flight to Berlin was already 3 hours delayed, which would get us into Berlin at a very late--or very early hour, depending on how you look at it, we asked Iceland Express to book us on the next Berlin flight, on Sunday, June 13th.

Bryndis (pronounced somewhat like "Pren-tees") at Hotel Keilir had treated us so well, that I thought we were being pampered and babied a bit. She literally took care of our every need, such as meals, taxis to the airport, etc. Here is a link to her hotel

If you are ever in Keflavik, this is the only place you should stay!

Max even wanted to go back there to have her help us with finding accommodations from Thursday to Sunday. But I thought it would be fun to hitchhike to Reykjavik since I had never really hitched a ride before, and didn't want to pay $14 each for the bus. Five minutes after holding a sign, we got a ride from a gentleman who works at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Ivar. He was a young guy and filled us in on life in Iceland during our 40 km ride to Reykjavik.

We first learned of the municipal elections that had taken place 10 days prior, and literally, the Best Party won. The government in Iceland has been corrupt for decades and the economy had deteriorated so much, that people wanted to vote for anyone else, other than those who had been in office. The man who won was a comedian. Max told Ivar, "in bad times, people just want to laugh." This is just like Stephan Colbert winning the South Carolina primary.

We also talked about environmental issues, such as the whaling industry. Most fish stocks have been depleted, but the local populations of whales are maintained. Everyone wants to whale, but they don't want to eat the whales. Whales are actually quite a lean meat, but Max told Ivar, "McWhale! We could start a whale burger joint. All we would have to do is mix the meat with the blubber!" The three quintessential ingredients in fine French cooking is, butter, butter, and butter. Fat makes everything taste better, a fatty whale burger would be just the thing.


After arriving in Reykjavik, we stayed at a hostel which was a communal room, but we had it to
ourselves the whole night. Lucky us! So much luck! For a whole day, we explored the capital city of Islande, and even hoofed it all the way from the hostel to downtown, then up to the Pearl, an old geothermal plant that had been renovated into a hilltop viewing point for the entire beautiful area all the way from Keflavik to Reykjavik and beyond. Max was surely going to kill me for walking with our 30lb packs so far, if the pack didn’t kill me first. Luckily, we found a stashing place in some trees and brush.

Once up on the viewing platform, I thought I saw the Keilir mountain, and asked a man if he was Icelandic, and whether that was the Keilir mountain. Way in the distance, it was indeed, Mount Keilir, or cone. It looks just like a cone. I then made the mistake of asking him if he was from Reykjavik, and he was not, proving Ivar’s point, that the surrounding municipalities have much pride in their own towns. He said, “some say, ‘the greater area of Reykjavik,’ but I say, ‘the greater area of Hafnarfjörđur.’” The Pearl, more formerly known as Perlan, has one of the most beautiful vantage points I have ever seen. It doesn’t rival too many others. A tourist trap, yes, but one worth trekking to. There is Keilir on the right.














By this point, we were starving and asked the local where we could get some great local food. He suggested a few fish restaurants which we should have done, but the bus station was closer and they had sheep’s head there. We walked there and found out that this was the same exact place David, the American we met at the Blue Lagoon, had bravely swallowed a sheep’s eye. Of course this is tourist food, but we had to try it anyways.

We still didn’t have a place to stay that night, so we checked our messages, and there was a message from another American guy, Santiago, who was living with three other Icelandic guys. He had been there for only a few days, and they told him they didn’t know what to do with this extra room they had. So, Santiago suggested craigslist. So we were their guinea pigs. It ended up being great fun to stay with them for two nights. Only 5,000 ISK! We all went out for drinks and it was awesome getting to know them.

They were born on the island of Vestmannaeyjar, and started a band three years ago, Depublic. Again, the fishing industry came up, as it did with Ivar. We were told that even if Iceland hunted twice as many mink and skirt whales per year as now, (150/year currently), they could still be within ecological balance in 30 years. Cod is Iceland's largest export, 60% of their economy.

Iceland falls on two converging plates and are literally being pulled to the USA one way, and Europe, the other. This is why they have active volcanoes and such intense geothermal activity. When you turn on the hot water here, it is instantly hot, and smells just like sulphur. It sure makes for a short shower! Iceland is both literally and figuratively being pulled to USA and Europe. While we were out, they spoke in English most of the time, which is an incredibly beautiful language. But there were a few uncomfortable moments for Max and I. After a few minutes of Icelandic, Max, told two other girls in the bar, “I’m with this guy,” and a few moments later, “he speaks the truth.” The two girls looked like they were trying hard to stifle a laugh, so who knows if they were talking about us or not. However, it is great fun for them to make fun of a guy that leaves the room, and we were still there, so probably not, hehe.

There was a girl staying there, Valdi’s girlfriend, Elizabeth. We got talking since we were surrounded by way too much testosterone and she said that her parents live in the south of Iceland, and their farm was in much trouble after the volcano. She was going to be spending the summer to help them clean up the ash, and this was not a good time to be starting a new relationship long-distance but she would drive a long distance when missing someone. She asked about our situation, how long we would be traveling and she said, ah, it will all work out. She said, “þetta Reddast” which means it will all work out in the end. One way or another, things always work out. I didn’t think much of it until we had a talk with Valdi.

So a day later, they had a house meeting about rules with Santiago that turned into a raging party. Lucky us, we had an open invitation since we were staying there. And unlucky for you that I won't be posting the pictures from the party because they made me promise not to!

But the party didn't start until we had a nice conversation with Valdi. We learned that alcohol is expensively taxed, and has increased astronomically since their economic crisis a few years ago. It has gone from 10 to 15 to 25% taxed. So, a regular 1 liter bottle of cheap Irish whiskey was $90!!! If we had known better, we would have bought duty-free alcohol at the airport for $20, same bottle. Sales on alcohol has decreased by 30% because many people now just make illegal moonshine, it’s pretty much everywhere. There is a 20,000 kroner fine for making your own alcohol. According to Valdi, there had been so much upheaval in the recent years, that now they all just say, “fuck it,” or “þetta Reddast.” This has always been sort of my philosophy, but in this sense it seems almost sad to say it. Seems like a resignation, of sorts.

As we were about to leave, they asked Max and I, “so, since you are the first people who responded to our ad, what do you think of the place?” We stumbled for a minute and I replied, “it’s a fun place to stay, but don’t come here on your honeymoon.” They thought this was absolutely hysterical and seemed a bit concerned that it may indeed by our honeymoon. We assured them that it was not, but they may want to fix the exposed pipes in the shower that will burn you if you touch them.

Here is Max making friends with some very artistic graffiti in Reykjavik. Statues and now, graffiti, his best of abroad friends. Little did we know, that our next destination, Berlin is covered in it!

Keflavik, icelands smallest airport.

OK. So here I am. Ready to rock. NYC to Berlin - in just 10 hours or so.

Yes, I know I look ridiculous. Anywhoo, off to the airport at 4:30 pm and 30 hours later half way there in Keflavik.

And yes that is 10:40 pm not AM, the sun never really gets all that low at night in Iceland(at least during the summertime)

Iceland is a beautiful country day or white nights. We’ve been taking advantage of the fact that you can take pictures of gorgeous sunsets at 2am and great shots of scenery any time of night or day. Really the sun is only barely below the horizon and it never gets much darker then a beautiful sunset that lasts 4-5 hours.This is at about 3am.


We were put up in a really nice hotel in Keflavik by the airline called Hotel Keilir. It is a beautiful hotel right on the ocean in Keflavik. The woman who owns the hotel was very kind and helpful to us talking to the airline and arranging fancy fish meals for the airline to pay for. We really liked her a lot and we loved her hotel. Basically 30 angry people showed up at her hotel at 11 or 12 o’clock and she got rooms ready for all of us and woke up a local restaurateur at home to come to his restaurant the Duushuus to prepare us a special fish dinner. Though we were given free airline sandwiches and snacks on the plane we were now 19 hours later our scheduled arrival in Iceland and very very hungry having eaten some cookies and some crappy airline sandwiches. This dinner which I know we would have loved even if we were not at wits end and starving was simply amazing. Breaded Halibut and Cod lightly pan fried with a green salad and some pan roasted potatoes on the side. We sat at a table with 2 Swedes and a Norwegian who couldn’t stop exclaiming “This tastes just like home!”


There is a cute little free museum in Keflavik which has hundreds of model boats of the fishing fleets of Iceland over the years. Clearly fishing is a huge part of Iceland‘s past and present economy. After two days in Fabulous Keflavik we basically have run out of things to do. We wandered around and took pictures of these interesting rock statues, we visited the Blue lagoon and had a good time getting to know a very cute Belgian couple, Philippe and Perrine. They went with us to the blue lagoon and the second nights dinner at Duushuus (thanks Iceland Express).

The Blue Lagoon is a beautiful sulfur spring created accidentally when they constructed a geothermal power plant outside of Keflavik. The water is really stunningly blue and kept regulated in the designated swimming area. Really nowadays it’s a major tourist trap and is quite expensive to get in but our entrance was paid by Iceland express(thanks again) even if the bus wasn’t(though they said it would be on the phone - no thanks Iceland express). Under the strongly sulfurous smelling water was a kind of salty silica clay that people would rub all over their body and it was supposed to be very good for the skin. After extensive testing and sitting around looking like a woman at a spa I can honestly report that though the nice hotel owner instantly declared that we look 20 years younger, I can see no difference nor do I think I looked like a 6 year old.

After all that we decided we were done with Keflavik and we decided to move on to Reykjavik in the mean time.


I pulled 10,000 ISK from the ATM, Indubitably I am quite the baller-shot-caller. (this is only like 75 dollars US.)
On to Reykjavik!