Ian d’O’s (or Iain d'Eau's) Diary. A First Class Bear gets a Special First Class treat.

Sometimes it is good to have a guest blogger on one's page. Today I am handing over mine over to a new best friend. He's called Ian d'O, though he prefers the more exotic spelling of Iain d'Eau. He is pretty sanguine about the spelling, but I think I may have to acquiesce.

On our return flight from Singapore to London via Zurich with SWISS, I discovered we were to travel on the new Boeing 777-300 (ER) being introduced into the fleet to replace the older, smaller, and less fuel efficient A340-300. I had some miles to spare and when Ian found out he kept tugging at my sleeve. I relented and we got to travel First Class on the new plane.

Now as I am not really a clever blogger, I don't take the right photos on phones at the right time nor do I have the first idea of what I am doing. I tried to supplement Ian's text, but I let him down. He has been kind and forgiven me, but I am on warning that detention may happen at any time.

Here then is the travel blog of Ian d'O, also known as Iain d'Eau.

When you are a bear and you have found your human, the only human that was meant for you to look after, you soon find out if looks can be deceiving.

Timbo said he fell in love with me from among all the other bears at first sight. Ha! He does not know bears like he thinks he does. 

Well, after we went from Penang to Singapore and stayed there a few days, I met Timbo’s specialest friend. He has got a nice nick name. Timbo calls him Special K, because he is a very special person.

Special K has a lovely smile. I thought it was the cutest smile I have ever seen since I arrived in the shop at the lovely E&O. Believe me, I have seen lots of smiles in the shop. 

When it came time for us to go to cold, chilly, nippy, London I wanted to be tucked in Timbo’s bag to go to the airport.

I am excited, what does cold mean? What does chilly mean? Why does nippy mean? I think it is not going to be as lovely and as warm like Penang or Singapore, but I think it could be fun. I know I will like it, because I will be with Timbo, looking after him.

Apparently you have to check in to get on a plane. You cannot just walk up and get on one. First you have to give your luggage to somebody who sends it off to who knows where? 

While we were doing this, Timbo and the lady were talking about miles and redeeming them The lady gave Timbo a number and he said it was wrong and too much. Timbo was right. I am learning Timbo knows some special things and makes sure he knows about them. I think he can be a clever Timbo, for a human. He is not a bear, so he cannot be that clever.

Next, after you give away your bags with your belongings,  there are all kinds of people who have noisy machines in their hands that stamp a small book of Timbo’s. 

He said everybody has one these when they travel the world. They are called passports. I asked Timbo why I did not have one. Apparently, because I am a bear, I have special privileges which mean I do not need a passport book. Sometimes, I feel I would like to be a tiny bit less special and have those books. Timbo says they tell stories of places he has been to.

After that there are loads and loads of bright, shiny, shops, and they sell all kinds of things. Timbo went around and said there was not much and he then used magic spells like “exchange rate” and “Brexit” and “those blithering idiots” to make the desire to spend money go away. They worked very well. Timbo must be a powerful wizard to make himself not spend money, because everybody in the hotel shop spent money.

We next went to the lounge. This is yet another special place for certain special people. There are different kinds of special people and they all have different special places. Timbo said he was not that special, well, not yet. I asked him when he would be. He smiled and said to me, “Wait until we get to the gate”. Then he crossed his fingers. I crossed my claws too. They are magic claws. Only a bear’s special human can see them. Timbo’s smile grew bigger when he saw me do that.

After he had been doing lots of finger tapping on his phone, and lots of smiling, writing nice things to his friend Special K, he said it was time to go to the gate. We went past all the bright, shiny, shops again. I am learning humans do things like this, to make sure the magic spells are still working.

Next we get to the gate. Timbo had to take all sorts of things out the bag (I stayed hidden), and then we all disappeared inside a big box that made me feel funny. Timbo says they use Ex Rays to see what is there. These Ex Rays could not see me. I must be a more magical bear than I thought.

We came out the other side, and Timbo had to pack the bag back up again. It is unfair to Timbo, because he packed it very well in the first place. I know that because I had loads of space to snuggle up in.

The people looked at his ticket. This made it the fourth time somebody had looked at his ticket. Humans cannot trust each other very much to read the same information. After a few minutes when we had been in this new lounge (but I thought we were at the gate) Timbo’s proper posh name was called out. He went to the man and the lady who after all that checking of the ticket only took it away and gave him another one. Timbo said with a happy smile “2K”. This was the magickest magic spell so far.

After a little while longer, the man asked Timbo and three other people to join him. Nobody else. We went along a special tunnel which then became two tunnels. A lovely lady was guarding our tunnel. I knew it had to be an even more special tunnel. 

When we go to the end of this tunnel a beautiful smiling lady said what Timbo told me later was “Grüezi”, a Swiss word to welcome you. I was a word that you have to say back but Timbo using his knowledge of magic said “Grüezi wohl” which makes the lady feel even happier, he said.

Cor! Wow! Golly! Blimey! What a big room! And only eight huge, massive, humungous, big seats for all five of us! There was a funny little seat opposite each big seat. Timbo tucked me in the one he had and put the safety belt round me so I would be ready for when we left. He did not want the lady to tell him off for not looking after me properly. When she came to check Timbo was a good boy, She was very pleased he was looking after me properly.

All buckled in properly.

The photo Timbo took of me with the special bag of goodies and slippers he was given.
Please note, nothing bear sized was provided.

The lady also gave Timbo pyjamas which he is allowed to keep (Swiss do not have bear sized pyjamas, I think that is very wrong). Timbo says he does not wear or like pyjamas very much, but these pyjamas he has from Swiss are the best and most comfortable he has ever had. He said they are featherlight and then sniggered. That word must a funny word, though I do not know why. I think Timbo might be a little naughty.

We had loads of gorgeous scrummy things to eat. I was not as hungry as Timbo, so I only had a little bit of a starter of lovely salmon. Timbo also had the green split pea soup that he said was "Super Suppe" to the lady. That was Timbo making a joke I found out because the words sort of sound a little bit alike. 

Timbo's Salmon Thingy

My Sensible Sized Salmon Thingy

The Super Suppe. Haha!!

Then it was time for bed. The nice lady made up a bed for us. When it was all done I crept under the duvet and it was really lovely.

In bed waiting for Timbo.

Cor, what a big bed!
And there are special nibbles by the bed for me!!!

Then Timbo came back with his featherlight jim-jams, as he called them, then he sniggered again. He got under the duvet and we slept long hours. But before we went to sleep, the nice Julia lady gave Timbo something that made him gasp and he said “Oo@! I love these!” It is a traditional gingerbread from Apenzell, part of Switzerland. He had one. I had a nibble too. I can understand why Timbo loves them.

They have a name that has extra meaning for me. They are called Appenzeller Bärli-Biberli. These are small version of the Appenzeller Bärli-Biber. Putting -li at the end of Biber makes it mean it is a small thing. I asked “So what is a Bärli, Timbo?” He smiled at me again and said “You are a Bärli, Iain.” Gosh.

On this special new plane, there is so much lovely specialness for me, there are slidey parts that make it like a tiny, tiny bedroom. The slidey bits are about as high as Timbo’s chest and he said he likes the tiny, tiny bedroom not being all locked away.

When we woke up we stayed under our cuddly duvet a bit longer. It was soon going to be breakfast and the lady took the bed away and pulled out the table and gave us a lovely breakfast with crêpes, they are very posh pancakes says Timbo, with bananas and yummy sauces. Then it was soon time for Timbo to get dressed properly, while he was away, that nice lady Julia brought me a nice big bag of Appenzeller Bärli-Biberli, all tied up with a lovely SWISS ribbon. She must like Bärlis. I like her.

Me and my nice big bag of Appenzeller Bärli-Biberlis

When Timbo got back he had to pack everything up into his bag. I have a private photo of me with Annamarie and Julia, and also with the lovely Sara Dibenedetto, who was the kind and caring Maître de Cabine who was also a friend to me, but she was busy looking after everybody on the plane, so I did not get a chance to know her better.

We landed in Zurich which the Swiss spell Zürich. It is also the name of the Canton, which is like a small country inside the bigger country of Switzerland. That is a bit like my old home in Penang, because Penang belongs inside Malaysia. We had a nice relaxing wait before we went on to London, but it was not as special or exciting a journey, because they do not do nice First Class with big beds to London.

You know, I could not have chosen a nicer human than Timbo. He showed me there are many nice humans in the world, they almost as nice as bears, or even Bärlis. I think I prefer to be a Bärli.

Aden: Thanks to my unknown readers

At the moment I have no more Aden material, and I would like to thank those of you who have followed me for all or part of the journey. Now I have finished everything and had time to reflect, here a re she musings arising from my Aden blogging.

Blogging on this website provides me as the blogger with statistics. Some are useful. Some are interesting, such as the ability to know where visitors to the blog have come from. This includes some ghastly search engines in Russia which are not really that. I wish I could eradicate these from my figures. 

Nevertheless, on the plus side I am flattered by the large number of visits from the UK, which is really my target audience as I imagine most people interested in my life in Aden would be there.

However, I am very curious about the handful of visits from the Yemen. Here's hoping the interest is from ordinary individuals like myself and not any state or commercial organisation. If it is anther "man in the street", whoever you are (singular or plural) thank you for being intrigued enough to visit my blog. I wish you and your country peace and stability, especially given the recent turmoil. If you are from Aden, then my wishes are more heartfelt still.

My nomadic childhood has left me with more than one place that I think of as "home". In the 50s I grew up in Singapore and Hong Kong, where being surrounded by ethnic Chinese and Malay was a normal everyday experience. On my first return visit to both places after 30 years absence I felt strangely at home. Its not easy to explain to somebody who grew up in the same place how normal it feels to go back somewhere and feel more comfortable as part of a minority of the population. Home is many places to me. Singapore, Hong Kong, Aden, Gloucester, Cottesmore are all my very early homes in my time of childhood and innocence. I have a bond with them all. 

I fear I have lost my opportunity to visit Aden, given the current political and religious turmoil in the world. I cannot adequately express how much I would love to see Ma'alla, Steamer Point, Elephant Bay, Crater and Khormaksar again and see how much has changed or stayed the same. Youtube has been useful, but not all the videos posted are very good. Too many of modern Aden are more about the persons in the video than the place, but such is the vanity of humans! 

I regret very much not returning to Aden before the recent religious divisions between Islam and the rest of the world surfaced. I feel my presence would not be welcome in certain parts of the world, but I do not mean that all Islamic countries are forbidding to me. For instance, when I was in Penang I felt most welcome by the locals I came in contact with. One abiding memory is of school children saying "Welcome to Malaysia" to us. I understand they would have been encouraged to do this, but a child's generosity of spirit is a precious gift, which more adults could do worse than try to rediscover within themselves. Given a less than happy previous experience in Kuala Lumpur, the people of Penang more than adequately made up for that experience.

However, after that digression I shall return to the topic of religious division. To me it feels as negative and pointless as the Protestant and Catholic divisions in European history, or the Christian behaviour of the Middle Ages which effected a superiority it did not deserve. Then the Arab or Moorish culture was far more advanced than the so-called Western civilisation. One only needs to visit Granada and see the palace of the Alhambra and the gardens of the Generalife to realise how more advanced that society was compared with the regressiveness of the regime of "los reyes catolicos". In my blog about Crater I commented on the Cisterns of Tawila. To this day I still think they are a marvel. I can still remember how awesome (I use that word not in its modern guise) it was as I walked around. You really need to be ignorant or blind to reason not to acknowledge the cleverness of mind and sophistication of a society that brought them into being.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and in my case, my absence from Aden has made me realise how lucky I have been to revisit Hong Kong and Singapore more than once. The memories I have of Aden are mainly positive, but the negative memories were due to the British presence outstaying its welcome. I am sure had I been a native of an occupied country my feelings would not have been too dissimilar. Whether I would express my displeasure I don't know. I thank my lucky stars I can express my opinions, which was not always an option open to the Adeni.

Aden: Random Memories 2: I'm going to Aden

My father was stationed at R.A.F. Innsworth, north east of the City of Gloucester. My mother’s family was local. There was not an airfield at Innsworth as this had been an administration centre. My mother and father worked there. It’s where they met and started courting and eventually married and had a baby, me. When I was an infant, our family lived in a prefab in the wonderfully named Frogfurlong Lane which ran northwards from Innsworth to Down Hatherley. Gloucestershire has some wonderful place names!

After that we lived in Singapore and Hong Kong. Upping sticks was quite a normal family event. Living in a different country was not extraordinary to me as a seven year old, not that the concept of another country meant anything much. For me it meant not everybody was white and my family lived a long way off. Plenty enough families came and went. It was all part of life in the Air Force. So when I was told my father had been posted overseas again and we were going to live in a place called Aden, it was life carrying on its normal course of events. All I knew was Aden was many miles away. I was probably excited to know I was again going to a place where it is warm and sunny all the time.

Since our return to from the Far East we hadn’t always lived in the married quarters in Innsworth. For a while we had lived in the neighbouring village of Churchdown. My mother’s parents were retired and they had a house not far from us in the village. The garden backed on to the main line between Gloucester and Cheltenham. I knew my grandfather had worked on the railway. I assumed he lived there because it was nice to remember his former work, not that I ever asked. Most children think life is going to be wonderful and happy and grownups enjoy working. My grandfather’s back garden was one massive allotment. As far as I know, he grew all the vegetables he and my grandmother ate.

I was poor at keeping secrets. I am a little better at it now. I imagine my parents told me when it was safe to do so and everyone who needed to know knew. When I told my fellow pupils at Churchdown Primary school I was going to go to Aden one response was “I wouldn’t want to go there, it’s all desert. No grass.” I wondered how this boy knew as he had never been there, and neither my mother nor my father had told me about that.

© 2012 Gwailo54