Showing posts with label Norwegian Airways. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Norwegian Airways. Show all posts

Monday, 5 February 2024

To Stockholm...

Sometimes things go smoothly, and so far that has been the case, not that I want to tempt fate. I left the house just before 1000hrs and jumped aboard the 1009hrs train from Sanderstead. At East Croydon a Brighton train arrived within minutes and the first stop was my destination, Gatwick Airport. Despite being largely automated, there were no problems with checking in; it was even easy to change my seat to a window seat and deposit my bag on the conveyor.

Weak tea in Grain Store
I took a table in Grain Store, a café I have visited before, and I've just enjoyed scrambled eggs on toast plus more toast with a small jar of marmalade, it's just annoying that it's soda bread, which is hard and unforgiving and not very pleasant. Oh, and let's not forget a decaff tea, which was dreadful. It had no substance to it and, you might understand me when I say that I could see the hot water and not the tea, having poured in the milk. It's weak and tasteless and very pale, which is very odd considering the brand is Taylors, a reputable name in the world of tea drinking. I left it to brew for at least 15 minutes and look at the state of it (see pic on the right of this text).

I had the full two-hour airport experience, mainly because everything ran smoothly, even security, and so I sat at my table feeling pleased that I had well over an hour left to run before heading for the gate. I'm off to Stockholm and then Finland and then home again and there's a trip across the ocean involved too, and by that I mean I'm taking the night boat to Helsinki on Wednesday night.

I was tempted to go for a wander around the shops, but it's so depressing looking at things I really don't need like Go-Pro cameras, fancy headphones, expensive and unnecessary luggage or clothes that are far too expensive for my tastes or for what they are; I did have a brief look at the iphones and the Samsung phones and the Garmin watches, but I never left the store feeling as if I needed to buy one, not that I could afford it and besides who needs so much data? Nobody. The whole thing about measuring everything, how many steps, how many this, how many that, building up stats on everything, there's no need and there's no point. I do it enough with Strava.

Through the clouds!
At 1250 the gate was announced, gate 23, and I marched there, it was quite a yomp and I decided not to use the automated walkway. While the Norwegian flight was supposed to take off at 1300hrs, it didn't take off until nearer 1400hrs, but for some reason it didn't matter so I accepted the situation, which wasn't at all dire. I was sitting in seat 6F on the right hand side of the plane, there was nobody sitting next to me and a woman in a track suit sat in the aisle seat. We didn't talk to one another and I think she was in a trance for most of the flight. I saw her again at baggage reclaim but again she looked a little odd and besides we didn't know each other. Alright, she wasn't odd, just quiet, she probably hated flying, I don't know, there was a bit of Katherine Ryan about her.

The flight was perfect and it was turning in to the perfect day, everything seemed to be working fine: the trains, the planes, the automobiles, everything. There was some initial cloud when we left Gatwick, but then the rest of the flight was spent above a blanket of cotton wool cloud, and there was no turbulence. In short, I loved it. As we descended towards Arlanda airport, the frozen lakes of Southern Sweden showed themselves as we heard from the captain that we'd be on the ground in around 25 minutes. The cloud disappeared and soon we were on the ground heading towards passport control and baggage reclaim. I hate having to use the 'other passports' queue as I consider myself to be a European.

I needed to check out where the hotel was located and what was the best way of getting there so I stopped at the Café Ritazza beyond baggage reclaim – I've been there before – ordered an apple tea and a piece of carrot cake and called the Birger Jarl,  my hotel for the next two days. The woman on the front desk told me a cab would be around 700SEK and I really wasn't planning on spending so much money so I opted for the good old Arlanda Express which took me to Stockholm Central in around 18 minutes. It's like the Gatwick Express, but far, far better. It was dark outside so very little to see, so I just amused myself with my own thoughts and then, suddenly, we were there. I jumped a cab outside the station and was soon at the hotel.

Frozen lakes
The Birger Jarl was the first hotel, ever, to ask me what floor I fancied staying on. "How many are there?" I asked. "Seven." "Okay, put me on the seventh floor and so here I am in Room 709 on the seventh floor in a room with polka dot wallpaper and, oddly, no desk so I'm forced to recline on a kind of elongated chair which allows me to stretch out, put the laptop on my lap and write this blogpost. I've just had dinner downstairs in the restaurant. Chicken followed by chocolate mousse and washed down with a no-alcohol beer and a few glasses of water. It was a very pleasant dinner. I sat there reading my book, Eat, Sleep, Cycle by Anna Hughes, it's absolutely brilliant and I'm loving every chapter of it, make that every sentence.

On the dinner front, while it was okay, the portion sizes were a little on the small side and I wasn't able to put it on my room, presumably because the restaurant is a separate business and not really part of the hotel. But portion sizes aside, the evening was very pleasant and relaxing and just what the doctor ordered. To be honest, did I really want to come to bed feeling stuffed? No I didn't. Far better to eat reasonably light before hitting the sack.

The Arlanda Express at Stockholm Central 

For some reason I thought it was minus 13 outside, maybe because that's what it said on my hotel room's television set (flatscreen screwed to the wall). But it turns out to be just minus 4, which is good. I stood outside in what I thought was minus 13 and it wasn't that cold, but when I was told it was only minus 4, well, I thought yes, that's probably about right, and then took the lift to the top floor and my room, which is great. There are wood floors, a decent wardrobe, a fine bathroom and a flatscreen television, which I'll probably watch in a few minutes before hitting the sack. I was going to have a shower, but I'll leave that until the morning now. In fact, I'll probably pass on watching television, who needs the stimulation before trying to get some sleep? Not me.

Room 709, Birger Jarl, Stockholm
I'm here for two nights, which is great as I hate staying anywhere for just one, there's no point unpacking. It's nice to know that I don't have to up sticks in the morning, it means I have some kind of base, which I like. On Wednesday I take the night boat to Helsinki and suddenly I feel like a spy. I always feel like a spy when I travel abroad. Jason Bourne, somebody like that. Whenever I'm on a train in Europe, as I've probably said before, it's as if I'm in The Great Escape. Big X being questioned by the Germans and then being caught out by the Gestapo. "Bartlett!" And then that great scene as Richard Attenborough is running through the quiet streets of France. "Your German is good and also your French I hear. Your hands...up!" I'm just hoping that the bad guy from No Country for Old Men isn't milling around looking for a large sum of money, but fortunately I don't have it so my conscience is clear. 

It's gone 2200hrs and I'm just lolling here with the lap top on my lap. Being on the seventh floor there's not much traffic noise, which is good as I'm ready to hit the sack. I can get breakfast at 0630hrs in the morning, which is good as I like a decent hotel breakfast and it'll be good to see what the Birger Jarl has to offer. I'm expecting great things and I'm hoping they won't disappoint as breakfast is the most important meal of the day as we all know. I'm hoping it won't be minimalist (like tonight's dinner) although I was more than happy as I don't really want to over-eat. 

The Birger Jarl is a quirky hotel and it's kind of the icing on the cake for me as today has been rather special. I've had little cause to be upset with anything or anybody. Perhaps I will treat myself to some Swedish television, but only for a short while as I want to get a good night's sleep. In fact, sod the television, I'm going straight to bed and I can't wait.


Sunday, 2 February 2020

Notes from flight D82952 from London Gatwick to Helsinki...

I was wide awake at just after 0400hrs and unable to get back to sleep, not for want of trying. I tried taking measured breaths and closing my eyes, but I wasn't sleepy enough. It wasn't like the old days, when waking up in the middle of the night was the ultimate pleasure because I would feel luxuriously sleepy and ready to fall straight back to sleep. Back in the day I looked forward to a broken night, sometimes I used to set my alarm too early just so I could reset it and fall back to sleep just so I could experience the joy of lying there thinking pleasant thoughts. Somewhere along the line things changed, those thoughts became fretful and now, if I'm awake, I'm awake and it'll take a while to get back to sleep. Sometimes I fail and I simply get up and go downstairs.

Healthy breakfast at Gatwick's South Terminal
Just before 0500hrs I jumped out of bed and switched off all the alarms that I had thought would be necessary to wake me up, but, as I suspected, I didn't need them. After making myself fruit, porridge and toast I put the finishing touches to packing my bag and then waited for the taxi to arrive. When it did I noticed Gupta was at the wheel. He's a bit of racist, but believe it or not he's alright, he's simply one of those people that likes to moan about virtually everything and, of course, now he can no longer moan about the European Union because we're out. Although he still moans about immigration, one of his chief bugbears, but let's not forget his son's messy divorce and his various health ailments. But deep down, this ex-services cab driver is alright and despite previous posts, in which I probably paint a bleaker picture, I quite like him.
At Helsinki, still in the plane, looks drizzly

He arrived on the dot at 0600hrs to take me to Gatwick airport and an early flight to Helsinki in Finland. I have never been to Finland before so I'm looking forward to the trip.

On the way to the terminal building after Gupta had dropped me off, I met a woman who lives in Pimlico, London, somewhere close to Lupus Street. She hailed originally from the West of Ireland and was on her way to Dublin to watch her own racehorse compete in a race, although she wasn't 100% sure that the horse would run, but was going anyway. She was flying Ryanair on the basis that they're cheap. I was flying Norwegian. In fact I refuse point blank to fly with Ryanair: I never have and I never will and it's all down to to the fact that I distrust them and the guy who heads up the budget airline.

Once I'd checked in I milled around for a while, spraying myself with expensive aftershave. It's the only time I smell nice. I bought a few things and then went in search of something to eat, nothing special. I visited the Wonder Tree restaurant where I ordered and enjoyed a mint tea, a slice of toast and something called a Berry Yoghurt Bowl (£11.45). My flight appeared on the destinations board at 0800hrs and was due to depart from gate 18 so I paid up and went in search of the gate.

On the bus waiting for the stragglers...
I am on flight D8 2952 and sitting in seat 12a, a much-appreciated window seat, affording me excellent views of tiny cotton wool clouds some distance below me. It's fairly clear outside (now that we've cleared the cloud hanging over Gatwick) and even at 39,000 feet I can still see land and sea, roads and rivers below me.

The flight isn't full. Who else would be so foolish to fly on a Sunday morning? I have an entire row to myself and that means I can spread out a little bit.

I had been under the impression that the flying time to Helsinki was roughly three hours, but no, it's two hours and 25 minutes, which is a relief, although I must admit that I'm nice and relaxed and enjoying every minute.

I've brought a 500ml bottle of Pellegrino on board, but I swear I heard them say that passengers must buy everything from the airline so I've not opened it - until now - as I think the service is over, but they will probably admonish me for my insolence.

Toasted cheese and ham and mint tea at Moi Bar, Helsinki
Last night I was on top of the world chilling out at home watching (on Netflix) The Great Escape, but conscious that I needed to be up at 0500hrs I stopped the movie after David McCallum had exited through the tunnel and will have to watch the rest on my return.

My room at Scandic Simonkentta, Helsinki
Down below I can see land, mainly a mix of large and small (some very small) islands. Miraculously the sea is blue and off in the distance there is a hazy smattering of thin cloud. This is what pilots call 'excellent flying weather' or 'conditions' and I love it when I know things are going to be relatively smooth and free from too much turbulence.

There's probably about an hour left to run on this flight and outside the land has given way to the sea, so there's little to see. In addition to being a window seat, 12a is also an engine seat.

I'm taking sneaky swigs from my bottle of Pellegrino because right now I'm really into Pellegrino sparkling mineral water. All week at work I've been downing a one litre bottle just after lunch having purchased it for £1.50 from the Co-op. It's something I haven't done for a long time, but there's nothing better and now that I'm not drinking alcohol (it's been just over two years and two months and I'm getting boring about it) I've decided to drink more Pellegrino, mainly because non-alcohol beers are piss poor and I can't be bothered to pretend anymore. In the same way that Sir Bobby Charlton and Arthur Scargill should have swept their comb-overs aside and announced, fuck it, I'm bald! Well, metaphorically I'm doing the same. It's a bit like my vegetarian sausages theory which I will now explain.

The view from my hotel window...
Okay, if you're a vegetarian why bother eating vegetarian sausages? Why would you want to eat something that resembles the very thing you've decided not to eat anymore? In the same way, why should (or why would) somebody who has given up drinking want to be drinking something that looks exactly like what he or she has given up? No-alcohol beer will never taste the same as real beer so why drink it? It's horrible and simple serves to remind you of what you are missing by not drinking. Not that I'm missing alcohol, not one bit as it happens. There are people who drink no-alcohol beer to hide the fact that they are not drinking, which is fine for a while, but once you become comfortable with being a non-drinker and don't care what others think about your decision, that's when it's good to start on the Pellegrino. Perhaps a no-alcohol beer with a curry, but that's about it.

It's 1105hrs (UK time) and I reckon there's around 30-40 minutes left to go. Outside there is no sign of land, just wispy clouds below me and the sea. I think I might read a bit more of Michel Houellebecq's Serotonin. There's 25 minutes to go according to the captain and we will shortly be starting our descent into Helsinki where it's 5 degrees, cloudy and rainy. Ugh! Just like England. As we descended through layered cloud I saw nothing that resembled land until we had virtually hit the tarmac. The landing was perfect, so smooth and soon the plane parked up to await a few buses that were being sent to ferry us back to the terminal building. We were all waiting inside the plane, some people were standing in the aisles, but I chose to simply sit there and wait it out. Soon, I was up and out of the plane, on the staircase leading down to the tarmac and the waiting buses. There was rock salt on the stairs, a clear sign that things get pretty icy here in Finland.

Where doors open outwards...
In fact, I was told that the current weather in Helsinki was out of character with the time of year. There should have been at least a foot of snow on the ground, but apparently the Finnish capital is experiencing the warmest of temperatures for January 'since records began'. It was good in a sense because it meant that I wouldn't be slipping and sliding all over the place and possibly even falling 'arse over tit' in the process.

After clearing passport control I followed signs to arrivals and found myself wandering through lairy displays of alcohol, cigarettes, fragrances and watches, not forgetting fur coats and anything else you might care to throw in. Talk about the Society of the Spectacle, it's obscene. And rather than stop and buy anything I simply used the testers to make myself smell good again, based on the assumption that the Allure I'd sprayed on my face at Gatwick had worn off.

I found myself in Moi Bar opposite Starbucks where I ordered a cheese and ham toastie and a mint tea. It was fantastic and there was a real risk that I'll eat another one so took a wander.

To brighten up winter streets in Helsinki they keep the festive spirit alive
I made my way to the Hilton hotel just outside the airport where a car drove me into the centre of town and a lovely hotel where I am staying now. It's very pleasant and I'm looking forward to breakfast. The room is good, there's a minibar, a television, a decent bathroom and a desk. Add in WiFi and you could say I'm as happy as Larry.

Tuesday, 20 June 2017

In Stockholm...

I can't remember the last time I was in Stockholm, but I think it was longer ago than I think. I almost stopped off here on the way to Lulea recently, possibly towards the end of last year, but a pilots' strike by SAS, Sweden's 'national carrier', halted my progress from the UK at Copenhagen and I flew home. But prior to that attempt I have the sneaky suspicion that I last visited the Swedish capital in the last century.

I flew out of London Gatwick Airport this afternoon, around 1330hrs, on a Norwegian 737 (seat 11a) and after a smooth flight, during which I enjoyed a spicy, hot chicken tikka masala and a couple of glasses of red wine, not forgetting some cashew nuts (I hadn't eaten since breakfast) I settled down for what turned out to be a smooth ride into Stockholm.

Stockholm South station, now just a shortish walk in the heat
Once on the ground and through baggage reclaim, passport control and everything else, I bought a train ticket to Stockholm South, which is close to where I was staying. At the airport (Arlanda) I had two options: take a train from Uppsala C or take a bus, the 583, to Marsta railway station, a short bus ride away, where the fare to Stockholm South would be much, much cheaper. For a moment I wavered (I was on expenses so why bother saving the money?) but then I thought why not? There was a big difference in the price. At Uppsala it was something like 150 Swedish Krona whereas at Marsta it was only 43 Swedish Krona. I took the bus and there was a train in the station when it arrived.

The journey to Stockholm South was long, probably around 30 - 40 minutes, but the sun was shining the skies were blue and the weather was the same as it's been in the UK this past week – hot and sunny. When I arrived at my destination, I asked one person for general directions to a region of Stockholm known as Sodermalm and then followed my instincts, which turned out fine. Soon I found myself at the NOFO hotel and was I glad that my sense of direction had been so on the money.

NOFO Hotel, Stockholm
I'm also glad that I picked such a quirky hotel. The NOFO is a strange place; it used to be a brewery and then the Columbus Hotel for the best part of 40 years, but now it's the NOFO and while I was told what the name means, I can't remember, or rather the explanation was a little confusing so I gave up trying to understand.

Södermalm is described as the 'vibrant heart of the city' and the NOFO Hotel is said to be 'steeped in the history of Söder. It was built in 1783 and has served as a brewery and as a barracks for the city guard. Today, Söder is claimed to be one of the world's most stylish city districts. "You will love the enchanting mix of people, bars, shopping, restaurants and culture," says the NOFO's general manager, Desiré Eklund. She's right, it's a very pleasant part of Stockholm and yes, I could live here!

NOFO is both a hotel and a wine bar set in its own quiet courtyard. It's dark and welcoming interior and it's friendly receptionist made the whole experience very warming and I was glad I was here for the next two days as there seemed to be a lot of depth about the place and I was eager to enjoy it to the full.

I would have stayed in for dinner, but I got the feeling that the offering was fairly light when what I needed (as always) was a substantial meal. The receptionist offered some suggestions and I set off in search of a restaurant. Only a short walk from the hotel, down Sodermannagaten and then hanging a left on Skanegatan (I'm leaving off crucial accents on some these place names purely because I don't know how to find them on the keyboard) I found a small green, which, according to the map provided by the hotel, was called Nytoget. There were restaurants close to the green, two of which the hotel had recommended, but I chose a place called Bistro Boheme (Skanegatan 83, 116-35 Stockholm). It was hot enough, even around 2000hrs, to sit outside, so I ordered a Czech beer (a dark beer) along with grilled tuna steak (tonfisk) and salad and a Californian Pinot Noir – all good – followed by a Creme Catalana, the Boheme's take on a Creme Brulée. A cappuccino rounded off the meal and I made my way back to the hotel, trying to remember the route I had taken.

Tuna steaks with vegetables and salad at Bistro Boheme...
I'm now back in Room 315 and to say it's small would be an understatement; but despite its cell-like proportions, I rather like it. In fact, I've always been a fan of small rooms (as opposed to huge ones) and I like the Velux window, which means I can see out, but people can't see in – just how I like it, although the view is limited,  just trees and sky, but I'm not complaining. The bathroom is a little compact too, but it's all good and I should really be hitting the sack and getting a good night's sleep as it's now almost 2230hrs here in Stockholm (an hour earlier in the UK).

I stayed up and watched the first Mad Max movie on Netflix, hitting the pillow around midnight. During the night it rained heavily, hitting that Velux window with such force it awakened me on a couple of occasions. While a Velux is fairly quirky there are a couple of downsides: first, heavy rain hitting the glass surface makes a real din; and second, while there is a blind, I left it half-concealing the window and so I was awoken early by the brightness of a summer morning. In all honesty, I like traditional curtains that can be drawn and a more pleasing view than just trees and sky.

Cinnamon cremé brulée
It's 0618hrs the morning after the night I arrived (it's Tuesday) as I write this and a day of work beckons, although I'm a little concerned about the state of my clothes. I've brought two shirts with me, but they've both seen better days and I need to buy some new ones. Likewise my suit, which is now hanging from a coathanger on the wall (there's no wardrobe, just four coat hooks mounted on wood and screwed to the wall). The walls are white and the floors laminated wood. The bathroom floor and the tiny entrance lobby to the room – I suppose in some perverse way you could say I was staying in a very small one-bedroomed apartment – are tiled.

There is a small desk, a wall-mounted flatscreen television, an angle-poise lamp like the one in Toy Story movies (or all Pixar movies) and what is made to look like a make-shift lamp fixed to the wall with a flex hanging down and plugged into the wall, as if a temporary measure. I suppose that alone bestows 'boutique hotel' status on the NOFO. A single bed is crammed into the corner, there's a fire detector on the ceiling and two shelves by the entrance where 'tea and coffee-making facilities' reside on a tray next to a hairdryer. I don't think I've ever used a hotel hairdryer. There's no sign of an iron, but under the shelves a large shoe horn hangs from a smaller arrangement of hooks screwed to the wall. I don't think I've ever had occasion to use a shoe horn either. Three magazines rest on a shelf underneath the desk but they're all written in Swedish so all I can do is look at the pictures. There are four decorative cushions under the Velux window resting on what looks like a huge block of concrete, which has been painted white; I'm using it to spread out my 'stuff' like my mobile phone, travel adaptors, last night's dinner receipt, my glasses case, wallet, maps and yesterday's newspapers (picked up free at Gatwick).

View from Room 315, NOFO Hotel, Stockholm
The weather has changed. The blue skies and sunshine have been replaced by grey skies and blustery wind, more like the weather should be in these parts. I remember coming here when it was minus 26 degrees and then I flew north to Lulea where temperatures plummeted to minus 40 and there were lakes frozen over – so much so that cars could be driven across them, the ice being something like three feet thick.

Going back to my hotel room's compact bathroom, it is a so-called 'wet room', which basically means the sink, the toilet and the shower are in the same room, with the latter only separated by a shower curtain. For some reason, there is a window cleaner's squeegy lying on the floor and I can only assume it's there to wipe the mirror clean when the hot shower steams it up; except that the water is cold, lukewarm at best, and it took me an age to work out how to get it lukewarm, by a process of trial and error. In the end it was just about bearable and I managed to wash and shave while in the shower. I turned the tap on the sink this way and that to see if there was any sign of hot water, but no, there wasn't; and in my book a hotel without hot water – or a hotel where getting the hot water to work is a serious faff – is not worthy of a return visit. I don't need the aggravation, although I kind of like NOFO so before I decide not to make a return visit, there's always tomorrow's shower – it might work!
Room 315, NOFO Hotel, Stockholm

It's 0730hrs and I'm ready for breakfast... and now, at 0815hrs I'm back and can report that breakfast was fine. I enjoyed cereal (muesli with raisins), some rice cakes and some fresh melon plus a cup of strong, black coffee. Why not tea, you might ask. Well, in all honesty it was a little confusing. They had two huge containers of coffee (with depressable levers to dispense it) and one containing hot water, presumably for tea. Next to the hot water was leaf tea in glass containers, but nothing remotely like a teapot in which to place the tea prior to dispensing the hot water. There was also a small glass jar containing 'tea bags' but on closer inspection these appeared to be paper napkins (I couldn't see any tea inside them) so rather than engage in more faffing around (the shower had already proved a bridge too far) I opted for black coffee and enjoyed my breakfast watching a muted BBC World News – Brexit talks and the passing away of Otto Warmbier after returning to the US from North Korea featured.

And now at 1648hrs, the blue sky and sunshine back in place and the tree outside my Velux window swaying slightly in the breeze, I'm back in my room. The bed has been made, as I expected it to be, but all else is quiet. I keep thinking about going downstairs for a glass of wine, sitting in the courtyard and relaxing with the newspaper, but there's work to be done and by the time I've finished it, it will be dinner time and then, tomorrow, I fly home. It's whether to go back to Bistro Boheme or try somewhere different, but I'll make that decision later, after I've completed my work.

For my Trip Advisor hotel and restaurant reviews, click here.

At least the cushions aren't on the bed!