Travelogue, Day 1: Munich to Helsinki

I have to admit that I really loved Munich when I visited last, but I’m not at all fond of its airport. I’ve only ever flown into Munich to transfer onto or off of an intra-European flight to an overseas flight, and something annoying always seems to happen. I’m not sure it’s the Munich airport’s fault (yesterday, admittedly, it wasn’t), but I don’t have to like it anyhow.

My last annoying Munich airport experience happened when the flight I was connecting from was really late. I was really pleased to find out that my connection was still there and leaving via what I remember being a nearby gate. What I did not anticipate was that there would be an extra security check right in front of the gate, and that I would stand there emptying out my stuff onto the conveyor belt while security goons had me taking off shoes etc. as I heard my name being called for final call while I was within sight of my departing plane (I did make the plane, but I had to run and got a lecture from the gate personnel as I did it).

Yesterday’s annoying situation wasn’t really anyone’s fault – in fact, it happened as a result of someone trying to help – but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I readily admit that I dislike the piece of security theater that goes on at security checkpoints in most airports. Now, when travelling alone, it’s a pain, but not such a big deal, since there’s a limited amount you’re carrying to be harassed about. Granted, I hate pulling my laptop (and now, in the U.S., my CPAP machine) out and such, and I hate that I can’t bring my coffee with me through the checkpoint, but it’s really not a big deal. I can put up with that. But with a family? Baby has bottles which one might or might not be harassed about. There’s a bag of small liquids for various baby complaints and as emergency supplies, baby food, water for baby bottles (which we didn’t bring to DIA, but we did pick up in transit and ended up having to dump some of in Munich due to what happened to annoy me there), laptops (2), stroller, CPAP machine, plus carrying the baby through the checkpoint without the Baby Bj&oml;n to help one juggle things, all on top of the usual shoe and belt removal, and if you’re really lucky, being wanded.

Fun times.

I hate security checkpoints.

So when we were arriving in Munich yesterday to transfer between Lufthansa and Finnair, I told Christian that I really hoped we didn’t have to go through security again, because it was a pain in the ass with a baby. He waved me away and discounted the notion, since he thought the extra security screening had to do with U.S. requirements for flights leaving to the U.S. This may or may not be the case, but regardless…

We got to do it twice more. Boo. And got wanded with baby in arms for our troubles.

And it all happened because of good intentions.

For travelling with a baby, let me just say that the Lufthansa crew was freaking awesome. They took incredible care of us on the flight, and the purser came by frequently to admire our little one and make sure he (and we) were ok. They paid even more attention to the mother travelling alone sitting two seats over with us, and they seated us in a nice infant row with bassinets for the babies to sleep in during the flight which made the flight so much easier than it could have been.

And even after disembarking, they were courteous, calming and helpful. When it appeared they had lost our gate-checked stroller, both the purser and one of the gate personnel were going to take us through the airport to find it so that we didn’t miss our connection, and then deliver us through passport control and security and give us a ride to our gate. As we were leaving to find the stroller, one of the stewards from the plane came running to us at a good clip with Ye Olde Baby Transporte Device in hand, saving the day. And the Lufthansa folks were still going to give us a ride to our connection. Really nice.

Only the gate lady hadn’t looked to see that our connection was on Finnair, not Lufthansa, and so she took us through security at the Lufthansa terminal, effectively causing us to enter Germany and leave the secure zone through which we would have made our connection. I don’t know if we’d have had to do security again at the terminal we were supposed to be at, but when she figured out we’d have to go to another terminal, she realized we’d have to go through it all again, so she delivered us to where we could walk outside with all of our stuff to Terminal 1, and sent us on our merry way.

And there we got wanded and bugged about having so much water for the short flight to Helsinki (we had no problem with discarding it, but explaining was annoying). Not really a big deal, but I hate security checkpoints, especially with baby.

But really, it was no one’s fault, and let me just say that Lufthansa was awesome to us. They made flying with Torsten an absolute breeze. (Ok, Torsten also made flying with Torsten an absolute breeze )

The Finnair flight was less fun. We travelled with Torsten on lap for both flights, which for us meant he was strapped into the Baby Bjön on me while I was strapped into the seat. I understand that it’s safer to have your kid in a car seat, but we really weren’t paying the exhorbitant amount it cost for an overseas child’s seat (which is nearly the price of the adult ticket, most of it in taxes, frighteningly enough). We were happy with the arrangement, though. He was well-strapped on and wasn’t going anywhere.

Well, Finnair doesn’t allow this, but instead has this safety belt which hooks on to the adult’s belt and is as far as I recall banned as unsafe by the FAA. I’m not arrogant enough to believe that the U.S.’s airline safety standards are somehow inherently better than another country’s (I have to reason to believe them to be anyway), but this contraption was decidedly insecure, given that our skinny little guy is about the same girth all along his body and could easily have slipped out (also, he could squirm all over my lap, which was annoying before takeoff).

Fortunately, Torsten slept from takeoff until just before landing, being the perfect mini travel companion that he is. And when he woke up, he just stared out the window, amazed.

Seriously, how did we get so lucky as to have this kid?

Anyhow, we made it to Helsinki and the youth hostel with a minimum of fuss, though I was so tired from days (weeks, really) of sleeplessness that I was very nearly incoherent. We have a nice little room in what is usually a university dormitory and it has a private shower and kitchenette, which is really nice. It’s clean and perfectly satisfactory. The baby bed they gave us kind of sucks (too soft with lots of fluffy blankets which would give the SIDS experts convulsions), so he’s sleeping in bed with me, but otherwise, it’s just fine.

Christian, fine husband that he is, let me pass out for many hours while he and Torsten went off to do a little bit of exploration, and with the exception of total exhausted confusion when they tried to get back in to the room, it was bliss. (There’s some sort of a buzzer system for letting people into the part of the building we’re in, and I woke up to some weird beeping from a phone-like thing and just randomly pushed buttons to make it go away, somehow letting them into the section of the building without knowing it. In my groggy state, it was completely baffling. I vaguely recall him bringing some food, which somehow included pickles and cookies (which if I’d been awake I’d have had the presence of mind to realize that these things do not dinner make), and then I passed out again, somehow acquiring Torsten again to sleep with me at, oh, about 6 pm. Little guy slept about 6 hours, which, while not a full baby night sleep, was a good start on beating jet-lag.

We were all up when he got up around 12:30 am, so we headed off on a cool and pleasant night walk around our neighborhood (we really haven’t gotten our bearings yet and left without a map, so I have no idea where we are or where we went except that we ended up, at some point, outside the University of Helsinki psychiatric clinic – we decided to move on), but it was really pleasant and pretty, with lots of trees and a lovely walkway along the water for much of the journey. Heading back to the hostel, we encountered the usual assortment of young people heading home for the night (at 3 am or so), drinking beer on the street and heading into the local burger place/gas station to satisfy their munchies (where we also headed, at 3 am, with a sleeping baby in a stroller, because, as I said, pickles and cookies do not dinner make – we got a lot of funny looks for that). We don’t usually eat burgers, at home or abroad, but it was a 24-hour place and we were hungry. Burgers were more edible than McDonald’s, although only just, and only because one of them was curry-pineapple. What is more interesting is being someplace where I can’t dissect enough of the language to guess at the meaning of anything, and if I don’t notice the Swedish on something (which I can pick apart, to large extent), I’m totally lost as to what something is. For example, I picked up this probably-dairy-item with a picture of a cow/blowfish hybrid on it to eat last night and didn’t notice the Swedish on it that would have given me the hint that it was milk-chocolate flavored, and was curious as to whether I was going to end up with some kind of yogurt or some vile fish pudding of some sort. When we saw the array of burgers advertised, C just sort of picked at random and we ate what we got. Which was fortunately just fine.

And then we headed back to the room, where, sated, the three of us all crashed again.

Munich aside (and even that wasn’t really bad, I just wanted to complain about it), an excellent day. (Especially, from my point of view, the sleeping bit…)