Diary of a Business Traveller
Since we commenced our business travels a few weeks ago, I’ve had a lot of people exclaiming their envy over what I’m doing. And while I feel very blessed with the opportunity to see different parts of Europe thus way, I often joke to my family that in some ways this is no better than my old weekly trips to the mining town of Karratha… Here are some snippets from my recent travels…
Sunday 3pm, Amsterdam to Heathrow
It’s a sunny weekend in a Amsterdam and I’m grabbing a taxi to head across the Channel to London. Not my favourite way to spend a Sunday, that’s for sure! I arrive at Heathrow, and then spend more time catching the train and tube into the centre of London than I did on my flight.
Sunday 6pm, London Bridge to Gatwick
I am fortunate to be able to catch up with one of my best friends for dinner, before spending another hour or so on the train out to Gatwick Airport, where I am staying. Why stay at Gatwick but fly into Heathrow? Because my client is at Gatwick, but due to this week’s complicated flying schedule (next flight is to Milano Linate) I needed to fly into Heathrow…
Sunday 11.30pm, Hilton Gatwick
Arrive at the Hilton Gatwick, only to join ten others in the queue for reception. I finally get my room key, and find once again I have been given a room a fair hike from reception. What is with my luck with hotel rooms these days? Why am I always so far away?
Monday 8am, Hilton Gatwick
I walk to the lobby for breakfast. As I leave my room I glance down at my stopwatch, and decide to switch it on. Was I exaggerating about my room being really far from reception? No, I decide, four and a half minutes later when I reach the lobby.
Monday 9am – 6pm, Reigate
Workshop time – it’s a busy day of facilitating discussions and taking notes… As I scan my inbox at the end of the day I think how quiet it’s been in terms of emails… Then I remember: today is a public holiday in the Netherlands.
Monday 7.30pm, Hilton Gatwick
Think it’s all wining and dining in the finest restaurants on these trips? We are so exhausted and too far from the centre of town to even leave the hotel: we grab dinner at the hotel restaurant, debriefing on the day and what we can expect tomorrow. Finally we head to bed …
Tuesday 6.45am, Gatwick Airport Car Park
I’m up, and ready to run – training never stops. But where to run? I jog out of the hotel and randomly decide to go left. Within five minutes I end up at Gatwick Airport itself, running through the car park. Bad choice. I make a loop and end up back at the hotel. By now, traffic has picked up, and turning right is no longer an option. So I repeat the Airport Loop, twice more. Not my most inspiring run…
Tuesday 8am, Hilton Gatwick
I meet my colleague in the lobby to check out.
“Where we you last night?” she asks.
“What are you taking about? I said good night to you at 11pm.” What more of the night was there? I wonder.
“The fire alam? 3.30am?” she probes.
Turns out part of the hotel was evacuated in the middle of the night because of a fire alarm. Only part though – not the part I was sleeping in – so far from reception… Thank goodness I missed that moment to celebrate the glamorous life of business travel!
Tuesday 5pm, Heathrow Airport Security Queue
After another full day of work, we make our way to Heathrow.
My colleague and I join a conference call as we line up for security screening at Heathrow. We stand in the queue together, each with our phones on mute for the most part, listening to what’s happening in Amsterdam.
Finally it’s my turn, so I throw my phone into the security scanner, then pick it up on the other side. My bag does not follow. It sits behind two other suitcases, pulled aside for “security purposes” I suppose.
It’s not the fastest crew operating at Heathrow today, but they’re thorough. They take the suitcase of a guy in front of me and open it up. They remove each article of carefully folded clothing, and place them in a box to go back through the x-Ray machine. I envy his packing skills and hope they don’t do the same to mine: my clothing is definitely not folded as neatly …
Alas, fifteen minutes later when it’s my turn, they open my bag. The security woman gingerly picks up my sweaty running clothes lying on top, clearly wishing they hadn’t picked my bag out of the line up, and begins the process of moving all my stuff into a box. I glance away in embarrassment when she pulls out a hot pink bra and holds it up for the world (and my client!) to see as she moves it across to the box.
I’m cleared five minutes later – about the same time my conference call finally ends. Just in time to fly to Italy.
Wednesday 5.45am, Milan
I wake up and head out of the hotel for a run. This time I’ve done my due diligence, and know if I turn right I will get to a park with a lake to run around. Within a few minutes I’ve found the park … But it’s surrounded by a two metre high fence, with a sign on a locked gate proclaiming opening hours are 8am to 10pm. Drats!
Once again I am faced with the option: left or right. Left will take me into Milano Linate Airport’s car park. I decide I’ve had enough running around airport car parks for this week, and head right. The footpath soon stops, so I head out and run directly on the road, which is relatively clear. I hug the perimeter of the fence, and five kilometers up the road find an open gate. The rest of the run is glorious – I watch the sun rise as I run around the lake a few times.
After 17km, I head back out onto the road to make my way back to the hotel, only to discover what was a quiet road at 6am is actually more like a busy highway at 7.30am. Oops! I spend the rest of the run hoping and praying I won’t die, as cars come perilously close to me…
Wednesday 7pm, Milan
After a busy day at work, it’s time to relax! Finally! We head into the centre of Milano, my old stomping grounds, and have dinner at Trattoria Toscana, a favorite amongst Bocconi University students now and way back in 2003 when I went there.
Thursday 7pm, Amsterdam
After four hectic days of working and traveling, at last I am home … or am I? No, not quite: like every second taxi driver in Amsterdam, this one claims his credit card machine isn’t working. Due to all the one-way streets in the area, he has to drive about 3km to take me to and from an ATM which is located just 200m from my house. Clearly he doesn’t trust me to walk there and back!
Thursday, 7.30pm, Home Sweet Home!
An Australian in Amsterdam 