Postlude to a Holiday

We rose early, with time for a last couple of shots out of the apartment window:

Checking the flight-status web-site we found that our flight was already flagged up as delayed.

We debated the merits / costs of getting a taxi to the main railway station and then getting the TXL bus to the Tegel Airport, versus getting the taxi the whole way there. Given the relatively modest price difference, that it was raining and that we would still have a fair walk to reach the right terminal from the TXL bus stop there was really no contest - taxi all the way.

We headed down to reception to check out and requested a taxi. "Certainly sir", the young man said, "it will be here in about 3 minutes". In fact it was there in about 90s.

We were dropped at Terminal C at Tegel and checked our bags before looking for brunch.

Tegel is a modest airport, and has much, about which, so to be... It feels like one large hangar, with all the facilities on one level. We purchased rolls and our last Apfelschorles of the trip and sat watching almost the entire airport in action from our stools.

Through security and into the even more modest airside lounge, from where we eventually saw our plane arrive:

The signed delay to our flight wavered up and down, but it was clear that we were going to be at least an hour late arriving in England. No matter - I had allowed 3 hours for a trip from the airport to St Pancras that should take no more than 40 minutes.

Finally on the plane. When booking the flights, the cost of upgrading to business class on the outward part of the journey was outrageous. On the return flight it was £6 extra each, so I had ticked the box...

The resulting (pre-flight) view from Row B in Club Europe:

Obligatory selfie:

The weather was still grey and miserable:

Our pilot thanked us for boarding so promptly. Our plane had been delayed in getting to Berlin because of high winds in the UK resulting from Storm Aileen, and the same high winds meant that our adjusted arrival slot in the UK was also delayed - by a further 30 minutes. However, by emplaning swiftly we had given him the chance to request the next appropriate free slot from any aircraft that was delayed on the ground.

Off eventually:

and the first sign of our extra £6 a head being put to obvious use:

Coming down through the clouds - I think this is the Dutch coast:

A wind farm in the North Sea:

and as our altitude continued to decrease, individual vessels could be seen:

Another wind farm, closer to home shores:

Losing altitude all the time:

A sandbank somewhere off the UK coast:

and finally cameras and phones were put away and we prepared for the rest of the descent, watching out for landmarks along the Thames. Hot towels were handed out - more of the extra £6 each being well spent.

Down safely, we walked what seemed miles through London City Airport to collect our bags, which in turn seemed to take an age to be offloaded. I spent the entire time doing calculations in my head.

Of the three hours I had allowed for this stage of the journey, 90 minutes was lost to the delayed flight, and around 25-30 clearing security and collecting bags. The multiplicity of DLR trains available to get us to Stratford International, and thereby to St Pancras, was dwindling rapidly.

Moving quickly onto the platform for the DLR we realised that we had not 'swiped in' with our debit cards (faster than buying tickets). Amanda took both cards and raced back down to the main concourse while I stood guard over the bags. She returned as the board announced that the next train to Stratford International (and our last chance) would arrive in 4 minutes.

Onto the train, standing by the doors and trying to corral our luggage while also checking the timetable of trains from Stratford to St Pancras. If we did not catch the 15.00, arriving at 15.07, we had no hope of catching the 15.15 home - and our tickets were non-transferable...

Watching our progress through each station, and mentally calculating how long the rest of the journey would take.

Finally out at Stratford, into the lift to ground level and a rush across the road to the over ground station.

Down in another lift and along the platform as far as we could go, to minimise the distance to walk on arrival.

Onto the train and, seven minutes later, off again and waiting for the lift to the concourse level at St Pancras.

A mad dash across the concourse to the lift for our platform, and grateful and eternal thanks to the chap who held the doors for us and allowed us to get in.

Another mad dash from the lift, through the barrier and on to the train through the first available door - at least seven carriages away from our seats. As we started walking through the train, trying to avoid annoying too many people with our baggage, the train pulled out and we were off.

An otherwise uneventful journey. A carton of milk purchased at the home station and a taxi back to the house.

Home, and a cup of tea.

Berlin - Day 6

Up and out, and we had some time to kill in the morning before heading to the Reichstag, so we took a look in the Mall of Berlin.

Truth be told, one mall looks pretty much like another these days - though the sofas were a nice touch, as were the flying horses:

Out to Potsdamer Platz, where I loved the razor-sharp edges to these buildings:

Another view of the roof over the Sony Center:

Our destination in sight:

and another view of the Fernsehturm through the Brandenburg Gate:

Through the Gate into Pariser Platz and a quick lunch at Bäcker Wiedemann. Not for the first time I was grateful for the schoolboy German I had retained after 47-odd years, due largely to the excellent teaching of Eileen Budge and George Boardman:

Lunch:

Through airport-style security at the Reichstag, into a lift and out onto the roof area which forms the base of the famous glass dome. The view looking out over the front of the building:

The famous dome:

The living (and controversial) installation by artist Hans Haacke in the central courtyard:

Into the dome itself. The central 'light sculptor' features 360 individually angled mirrors. With relatively few high rise buildings nearby, there is a lot of 'horizontal light' available, and the mirrors act light a lighthouse in reverse, gathering that light and concentrating it down into the chamber below:

A large movable sunshield can be positioned to reduce glare on very sunny days:

and the mirrors can be used to produce some interesting selfies:

There are two walkways winding their way around the dome, with the access to them offset by 180 degrees. One is supposed to be used to walk up to the top, and the other for the walk back down. Unfortunately, since the instructions on the floor had effectively worn away, some people chose the wrong walkways and there were occasional black looks from those in the right being bumped into by those in the wrong.

No such problems here:

Looking down from the top of the dome:

and scanning the horizon:

Of course, the little boy in me is always curious to know 'what are those men doing?':

Resting at the top:

Down to the base of the dome by the correct walkway, down to the ground level by lift, and then out through the familiar front:

A view of the distant Carillon:

A memorial to the 96 members of the Reichstag of the Weimar Republic, killed by the Nazis; their individual names are etched into the edges of the metal sheets that make up the memorial:

Across the road, and sitting down for a rest on a bench along one of the paths that criss-cross the Tiergarten.

Organisers of yet another shell game on their way in search of richer pickings:

We saw far more sparrows in Berlin than we do at home these days, and most seemed quite tame:

More walking, and a return visit to the Gemäldegalerie - thankfully open this time.

Although photography was allowed in the galleries, by now were were starting to feel the strain of six days sightseeing, and we spent the best part of two hours actually looking at Old Masters rather than taking photos of them. Until, that is, Amanda peered closely at this Canalleto and in a stage whisper, asked which building was the one in which James Bond had the punch up...

I sensed that it was time to leave. A few last photos from the plaza in front of the gallery:

and we walked to Friedrichstrasse and then caught the U-bahn a couple of stops, reappearing at street level right outside Peter Pane, to which we happily paid a return visit on this, our last night.

My order remained the same as on the first visit, while Amanda decided to be healthy and swap her bacon for avocado.

Sated, we headed out onto Friedrichstrasse for the last time, sauntering along up to Dussman for a final visit and then back to the hotel.

Bags were packed and travel plans were discussed, and then it was time for bed.