Luggage lag

Good morning jetlag! Well, It is 5:39am and I have woken up bright as a bunny, back home in Brisbanetown. Jetlag is well and truly upon me but luckily its most adverse effects are going to bed at a very sensible hour and waking up at a time that others of the unemployed would mock with great amusement.

The trip home has been, well, epic to say the least. There were snowstorms, flight delays, 5 extra days in Paris, 11 hour stop overs, Christmas Day at Heathrow, exit rows, histerical babies (also in exit rows) and stolen business class chocolate.

We arrived home on Monday 27th of Dec 1010, relieved and exhausted, exiting the plane with gusto, pushing our way through customs, determined to be the first to get our bags and get home. At the baggage carousel we waited, and waited....and then waited some more. The checked bags chugged on by, and with every new piece that was spat violently out of the baggage hole, I lost a little confidence that mine would be next. The other passengers from QF52 happily pick up their luggage, smiling, laughing, kissing their partners, high-fiving other successful baggage claimers and finally passed by me, bags in tow, whispering 'loser' and wearing their superiority proudly as they pushed their way out of the international holding area. My elated glad-to-be-home mood first turned into anger, then sadness, then apathy, then resentment, then anger again and finally self-pity. The bags were not coming.

After filing a report with baggage services I walked away not certain that I would recieve my bags and guitar at all.

2 days later, my guitar has arrived, my big bag however (with EVERYTHING I OWN in it) is still MIA.

Spent

Spent last night bragging about how I have an uncanny ability to make long distance transport with only minutes to spare.

Spent this morning trying to get another ticket to Paris because I missed my train at 8.02.

Spent last night partying with the Family Fisk in Switzerland.

Spent this morning bruised, broken and wondering just how much champagne one can consume before one realises they should indeed be in bed by now.

3 hours sleep. 5 hour train ride ahead. Jazz in Paris tonight (with any luck).

Switzerland ya!

Gots me an all day sandwich and I'm off to Switzerland for a few days. The tour finished last Friday and I spent a few days in Rennes with my sister from a Frenchy mister, Marie.

 The tour was great but it's definitely a lot harder doing it in the winter. The summertime in France (and especially Brittany) is vibrant and exciting. The sun is out and people are happy to be alive. I definitely noticed far more reserved attitudes this time around. No wonder....it really is hard around this time of year. The sun hides longer in the earth's rotation, plants die, roads close, trains are delayed... but life must go on.  

I feel like I drank enough wine on tour to considerably impact on the grape industry in northern France. They better get to replanting otherwise we could have some very angry frenchies next summer. Also, I am officially a smoker in France and a non-smoker in Australia. It is certain that if I lived in this fair country I would have NO CHANCE at giving up. It is simply unavoidable.

So since Friday I have been in Rennes and I am officially on holidays. Had the pleasure of attending 'Transmusicales', a festival attended by around 60,000 this year. One thing learned is that it don't matter where in the world you are, there will always be a healthy dickhead contingent at festivals. A second thing learned is that if you give me a VIP pass, don't expect that I will leave the glorious minimum dickhead comfort of the VIP bar. The theory has been tried and tested in Australia and France alike and the results remain undoubtedly stable.

Glad to be enroute to Switzerland, although, I did discover a hole in the toe of one of my boots last night. Probably not the greatest for trapsing through the snow-lined streets of Basel. Nevermind... got the gaff, taped it up, hopefully that'll do. Waaaah. 

A note from France

A quick update while I have internet access:

Berlin was rad. Or maybe I should say that Kreuzberg was rad because I pretty much did not leave that suburb. Saw great friends. Ate. Drank. Was merry. Froze my proverbial balls off I might add. Crazy cold in continental Europe right now. Not a lot warmer in France but when you have been living in around -10 every day, a balmy 2 degrees seems like a breeze. That said, there are some parts of Brittany that have been having their own extreme weather. Nearby Lannion, where we played two nights ago, there was snow on the beach. The last time this happened was 20 years ago. Understandbly, the weather is hot (pardon the pun) on the lips of every local and foreigner alike. Us Aussies are doing ok. The layers are on, gloves bought, heaters on, whiskey drunk and we are as comfortable as possible.

Tonight we go to Frugeres, a place the Frenchies refer to as 'the fighting capital of all of France'. Oh dear. Could be an interesting one...