Galley Gossip: Goodies for the crew

by Heather Poole on

I’m taking a trip next week to Las Vegas. Is there anything I can bring the flight attendants and pilots as a little token of my appreciation. You guys work a really hard job. I just saw the Capitalism Micheal Moore movie and I had no idea that pilots and flight attendants got such a raw deal from their employers. I thought about making cookies or muffins? Any ideas would be great – Tina B.

Thank you for thinking of us, Tina, that’s really nice of you! But you don’t have to bring us anything for doing our jobs. Except maybe a smile. A little eye contact goes a long way, too. You’d be surprised what a difference that makes in this day and age of travel when passengers rarely acknowledge our greetings during boarding and won’t remove their headphones when we’re trying to ask them what they’d like to drink. Don’t even get me started on passengers who actually say please and thank you! When I hear those simple words I can’t help but provide nonstop refills on drinks. No joke, tears just about came to my eyes on a recent flight when a little girl named Fallyn made the crew a thank you card for being nice and making her feel so comfortable.

“You must work for an airline,” I said to Fallyn’s father with a knowing wink.

He looked at me funny. “No. Why?”

Because it was the nicest thing I’d heard in a long time!I’m not alone. When my coworker spotted Fallyn’s card hanging up in the aft galley, he told me about the time a kid on one of his flights drew a picture of him, Cart Man. My colleague actually had the picture made into a magnet and to this very day – fifteen years later – it still hangs on his fridge. Little things really do mean a lot.

If you really want to bring something edible for the crew, make sure it’s wrapped and sealed. I’d hate for you to waste money on those who might be afraid to eat anything for fear it might not be safe. That’s why candy is always a good choice. Julie, creator of Jet Line Clothing, brought the last five crews York Peppermint Patties. A Delta flight attendant, and prettiest laviator, never commutes home without Toblerones. I’ve had pilots bring donuts and frequent fliers (regulars) hand out everything from chocolate covered strawberries to gold hoop earrings (on Christmas). I’ve even received coupons to fast food joints and a five-dollar gift card to Starbucks. Recently a passenger gave me a pen. It’s my favorite pen. I keep it in my uniform blazer pocket. Oh and discarded magazines always make my day!

Whatever you decide to bring for the crew will be appreciated. Trust me! And watch how quickly your beverage gets refilled.

Whenever I bring treats for the crew, I’m never sure how to distribute the goodies. It’s easiest to hand it to the flight attendant at the front as I’m boarding and mention it’s for the entire crew, though I’m usually in coach. I’m often on regional jets and it’s unusual to have more than two flight attendants. I assume they’ll share (and with cockpit crew too) but I never know. – Mickey

Not only will it be easier on you to pass off the goodies to the flight attendant at the boarding door, it’s easier on us as well. With airplanes being turned around quickly, full flights staffed with minimum crew, and not enough bins for all that luggage, boarding can get very hectic. When things calm down the flight attendant working the front of the aircraft will let the rest of the crew know that a passenger brought something special for them. But go ahead and let a flight attendant working in the back know you brought something for the crew. Not only will this ensure that everyone shares, it also lets us know WHO brought the treats on board so we can be sure to thank the correct person.

Now you’d think that flight attendants would automatically share with pilots, but that rarely happens. At my airline, flight attendants working domestic routes don’t get catered meals. Basically we either eat what we’ve brought from home or first class passenger leftovers. But pilots still get meals on select routes. Therein lies the problem. So if you’re bringing a food item for the crew and you’d like the pilots to also have some, make sure to let the flight attendants know. And when you do so get as close to the cockpit as possible and yell really loudly. That said, flight attendants and pilots tend to get along better at smaller airlines. They treat each other more like family. Probably because they fly together more often and lay over in the same hotels, forcing everyone to be on their best behavior.

Photo courtesy of Thundershead

Himalayan High: A trek to Everest Base Camp

by Kraig Becker on

More than any other mountain, Mount Everest has always held an undeniable allure amongst the general public. Ever since it was first surveyed back in 1856, we’ve been fascinated by the massive peak that rises 29,029 feet above the Earth’s surface. Later, the world would hold its collective breath while explorers such as George Mallory and Andrew Irvine challenged the mountain, just because it was there. And later we would cheer when a young man from New Zealand, named Edmund Hillary, and his climbing partner from Nepal, Tenzing Norgay, stood atop the summit for the first time. The fascination turned a bit morbid when Jon Krakauer’s Into Thin Air told the tale of the that tragic 1996 climbing season during which 15 people lost their lives on the mountain. But that best selling book reintroduced a new generation to Everest, keeping its mystique alive and as strong as ever.

Climbing the mountain is an expensive and challenging endeavor, costing upwards of $50,000 and requiring a two month commitment to complete. Not many of us have that kind of time on our hands, not to mention that much disposable income, which makes it highly unlikely that we’ll ever stand on the summit ourselves. But the desire to see the mountain runs strong amongst adventure travelers, and each year hundreds of them make the trek to Everest Base Camp, just to experience a part of the mountain for themselves.

In April I had the privilege to make that trek for myself, spending 12 days hiking in the Khumbu Valley of Nepal, and ultimately arriving at Base Camp, located at 17,600 feet. Along the way, I passed through mountain villages, stayed in traditional teahouses, and experienced the Himalayan culture first hand, and all the while the stunning snow capped mountains of the region served as a breathtaking backdrop. The trip turned out to be everything I had hoped for and more, and while it isn’t an easy journey, for those who have always wanted to make it, it is definitely worth the hike.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing my experiences from the trek with Gadling readers. Hopefully I’ll be able to convey to you, in some small way, the sense of adventure and wonder that a walk in the Himalaya can produce. And that adventure starts in Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal, and the gateway to those mountains.

Next: Kathmandu: Gateway to the Himalaya

How to Crash Cannes – a 101 guide

by Annie Scott on


The Cannes Film Festival is an invitation-only, very glitzy affair which attracts hundreds of celebrities and elite guests from around the world. It’s no wonder that many of us fantasize about going. For most people, that dream may seem an impossible one. Well, guess what? It’s not.

This year, I was invited by Stella Artois, one of the main sponsors of the Cannes Film Festival 2010, to attend. Now, I’m not going to tell you “just make friends with someone at Anheuser-Busch.” No. And yes, I was afforded some privileges that crashers won’t be able to come by — but I did manage to figure out how a regular person could get there, attend the private screenings, and have a great time. So here we are:

How to Crash Cannes – a 101 guide

Get yourself to Cannes (obviously).

If you’re thinking about crashing Cannes 2011, book your flight now. The flights to Nice before and during the festival are booked solid and get very expensive if not reserved in advance. Cannes 2011 will be May 11 – 22. This is one thing you can’t get around unless you know someone with a private plane.

*Don’t* book a hotel.

Here’s where we get down to the business of skirting the system. It won’t work if everyone does it, but there are still some sorry folks out there who don’t read Gadling. Chances are, this will work …There are no hostels in Cannes. Some people go as far as finding campsites outside of Cannes and camping to avoid paying through the nose for a hotel when they all seem to be booked. That is not the glamorous kind of experience I’d want to have at the ritzy festival. What’s more, partying till dawn becomes difficult if you’re not staying in Cannes. Here’s something few people know: The Tourist Information Center right at the Palais de Festivals on Croisette has hotel rooms, even when the whole city seems to be sold out (ask for “Last Minute Accommodations”). Not only are there still rooms available — only for those who come to the Information Center and request them in person — but in some cases, they may have worked out deals which mean you’ll get them at discounted rates. Expect to pay about 150 euros per night to stay in the Cannes city center. While one shouldn’t count on it, you may get an even cheaper rate.

If that makes you nervous or is too expensive …

Booking now may save you a little cash, but to save more, you’ll have to stay outside of Cannes. Antibes is a good place to start, as well as Mandelieu. Be careful about transportation, though. Taxis are very expensive in the French Riviera, and having to take one could completely trump your savings. When booking a hotel outside of Cannes, ask specifically about whether Cannes can be reached by train or bus, what time of night the service ends, how much it costs and, most importantly, whether the train or bus stop is walkable to the hotel. If it’s not walkable, you’re not getting a deal. Expect to pay 60 – 70 euros per night for a hotel in a nearby town and be aware that most trains stop at midnight and most buses stop at 1:00 AM.

Getting into films and walking the red carpet — free.

All official Cannes Film Festival screenings are invitation-only. Invitations are given to celebs, friends of the filmmakers, locals, and other folks with connections. It is 100 percent illegal to buy or sell tickets to the festival, so if you see some on Craigslist, be extremely wary; either they’ve fallen into the wrong hands or they’re (probably) fakes. Here’s the good news; no one’s checking IDs or anything. It’s perfectly okay to be given a ticket or to give a ticket away. This results in people with signs like the one at right standing outside the Palais de Festivals during the day. Go ahead and give it a try; there are plenty of people with an extra ticket out there. A little patience could get you in to see a major film. Not only that, but according to the Tourist Information Center, a ticket alone entitles you to walk the red carpet right along with the celebrities. How awesome is that? Answer: I did it twice and it was totally, totally awesome. Be aware that the attire requirement is formal: mandatory tux and black tie or gown.

If that doesn’t pan out, you can still see films at Cannes — just not the official ones. For example, at the beach right next to the Palais de Festivals (below), they show classic films every night except the first and last nights of the festival. The screenings are free and folding chairs are provided. The only thing is, you have to line up to get in; space is limited.
Additionally, you can see films at Espace Miramar, just down the way, for free, or at La Malmaison, also on Croisette, where a parallel, fringe-type festival runs. You can attend for about 7 euros.

Lastly, if you don’t manage to score a ticket but want to tell all your friends that you did, fear not. There are red carpets everywhere, and even the ground along much of Croisette is painted red. A red carpet shot should be pretty easy to fake.

Well, that wraps it up! Cannes is definitely crashable if you’re in-the-know, and now, you are.

My trip to Cannes was sponsored by Stella Artois, but the ideas and opinions expressed in the article are 100 percent my own.

Whereboutz by TeleNav lets you create a social networking travel journal

by Scott Carmichael on

Whereboutz is a new social networking site from the people behind the popular Telenav navigation software. The site lets you create your own trip journal, filled with maps, geotagged photos, videos and more.

Unlike many other social networking sites, Whereboutz allows you to keep your site private, which means you get to pick the people you share your trip with. Of course, if you prefer to share everything you do, you can also share your updates using Twitter of Facebook. With the iPhone app, you can upload your location, along with photos, videos and voice memos.

The site is free of charge, as is their iPhone app. Best of all, if you sign up, and provide some feedback, you’ll be entered to win a $500 Visa gift card!

So, if you are heading on a trip this summer, and you’d like to keep friends and family updated on your adventures, go sign up for the site and take it for a spin.

Somaliland adventure: Bumbling in Berbera

by Sean McLachlan on

Besides the painted caves of Laas Geel, the most promising road trip from Somaliland’s capital Hargeisa is to Berbera, 160 km north of Hargeisa and the country’s main port on the Red Sea. Nobody knows how old Berbera is, but it’s been an important port since ancient times and is mentioned in The Periplus of the Erythraean Sea, a Greek sailor’s guidebook from the first century AD. It boasts beautiful coral reefs, a lighthouse with a sweeping view, and a historic synagogue.

We got to see none of these things, but our trip was educational to say the least.

I and my travel companions, Swedish photojournalist Leo Stolpe and a Somali expat who doesn’t wish to be named, hired a driver through my friends’ hotel. Since we did it on short notice the hotel owner couldn’t get one of his regulars and had to hire someone he didn’t know. He explained to the driver that we wanted to see everything and we’d be out all day. He also told him that if he did a good job he could expect more work in the future.

The driver seemed friendly enough. He spoke decent English and was in good spirits as we left. He was in even better spirits when he stopped to pick up a large bundle of khat, a narcotic plant. I noticed he spent a lot of money to get a choice bundle with lots of young shoots and leaves that would guarantee a strong effect.

First stop was the shrine of Sheikh Yusuf al-Kownin Aw-Barkhadle, on the highway north of Hargeisa. Aw-Barkhadle was a devoted Muslim who came from Harar to defeat a false holy man who was fooling the people with his magic and sleeping with their daughters. When Aw-Barkhadle told the charlatan to renounce his evil ways, the man challenged him to a magical duel. Aw-Barkhadle let him go first, and the man waved his hand and opened up a tunnel through a mountain on the outskirts of Hargeisa.

Aw-Barkhadle shrugged and said, “That’s simple. What’s difficult is passing through.”

Enraged, the false holy man arrogantly walked into the tunnel. Aw-Barkhadle ordered the mountain to close by the power of Allah and the evil one was entombed inside. To this day when Somalis pass by this mountain they throw rocks at it or slap it with their sandals. Its stone is never used to build houses.

The shrine is a simple affair of whitewashed walls trimmed with green, the color of paradise. Non-Muslims aren’t allowed inside, but I still felt a strange atmosphere to this building, shining brilliantly in the sun amidst a stony plain of thorn bushes and unmarked graves.

%Gallery-93452%The road to Berbera had a dozen police checkpoints. Since our route took us only along the main highway we had permission from the police in Hargeisa to travel without a bodyguard and we experienced no trouble at the checkpoints. Soon we could smell the sea air and we drove through the busy port. Past Ottoman mosques and colonial-era bungalows we could see giant freighters moored in the glittering water. We stopped at the Maansoor Hotel, which has an excellent restaurant with a view of the sea, and the added bonus of the only dive shop in Somaliland. Our driver had been chewing khat constantly for almost two hours, but didn’t seem to be affected by a loss of appetite the drug usually gives and we all enjoyed some wonderful fried fish. We rented some gear from the dive shop, checked the map to see how to get to the coral reefs, and headed out.

Then the trouble started.

The coral reefs are three kilometers outside of town. A coastal road leads there, but we found the road blocked by soldiers in a “technical”, a pickup truck with a weapon mounted on the hood, in this case a heavy recoilless rifle capable of punching a hole through our engine block. The soldiers politely but firmly told us we couldn’t pass. Luckily I remembered the map showed a more roundabout road that would get us around the military zone and to the coral reefs.

The driver didn’t want to go and refused to ask anyone for directions. Luckily our Somali friend managed to get someone to tell us which way to go. The driver grumbled all the way out of town, saying this wasn’t part of the deal, that we only said we wanted to go to the beach, etc., etc. Our Somali friend tried to reason with him, reminding him that he had been hired to take us all around, but to no avail. After a few minutes of obviously not trying to find the alternate road, he turned the car back towards Berbera.

We were getting pissed off. Berbera’s main attraction is the coral reefs, but our khat-chewing driver didn’t care. Not listening to reason in either English or Somali, he drove us straight to the beach and parked the car. He’d gone on strike, and sat glumly staring out the window chomping on more khat.

Leo, being a good travel companion, gave me some solid advice.

“Look, Sean. This is the fourth country you’ve been to that’s on the Red Sea and you’ve never been in the water. Just forget about this guy and let’s go swimming.”

Good plan. The beach was clean, the water as warm as a bath. We swam out and dove under, hoping to find some uncharted coral reefs. We didn’t have any luck but had a great swim anyway. When we finally made it back to the car our driver, teeth stained green with khat, rounded on us.

“Where have you been!? It’s time to go!!!”

We tried to calm him down and said we’d head back to Hargeisa after stopping at the dive shop to return the equipment.

“No!” he declared. “I’ll drop off the equipment next time I’m in Berbera.”

Yeah, sure you will, I thought, but said, “It will only take a minute.”

“We don’t have time! It will be dark soon and I won’t take any more side trips.”

“Side trips? The dive shop is right over there,” I said, pointing. “We have to drive past it to get to the highway.”

Even Mr. Khat couldn’t argue with that logic, so grumbling all the while he stopped at the dive shop and glared at us until we were back in the car.

“Where’s your guard?” he demanded. This was the first time he had mentioned it.

“We have permission from the Hargeisa police to travel without one, we already told you,” Leo said.

“I won’t drive without a guard!” Mr. Khat shouted.

Our Somali friend reasoned with him in their own language. After a minute the driver grunted and headed out.

At the first police checkpoint outside of town, the cops inspected our papers and let us through, but our driver wouldn’t budge. He started shouting to the police that he didn’t want to drive at night without a guard and insisted one of the cops get in the car and that we all go back to the station. The sun was setting and we were headed in the wrong direction.

Our Somali friend muttered, “This is a shit man.” I was tempted to ask how to say that in Somali.

Mr. Khat had really worked himself up into a fever pitch now. He was ranting and raving, obviously suffering a bad trip from the drug he’d been eating all day, and once he got to the police station he vowed he’d leave us there. The police chief stepped in, and a long debate ensued about whether we had to hire a officer or not. A call to higher authorities decided that we would. As that was being arranged our “driver” came up to me.

“Where’s my money?” he demanded.

“The agreement was that you’d be paid when we got back to Hargeisa,” I said as calmly as I could, which wasn’t very calmly at all.

“I WANT MORE MONEY!” he screeched.

“For not taking us anywhere? I don’t think so!”

OK, that’s not what I really said. I can’t print what I really said. In a moment the cops jumped between us and the driver started threatening the police chief. Yes, the police chief. A club brandished over his head shut him up, but only just barely. The police chief told him in no uncertain terms to take us back to Hargeisa, that we’d pay for the police escort, and we’d pay him what we agreed on and not a shilling more.

So it was decided. The drive back was spent in glum silence, except for the smacking of our driver’s lips as he gobbled down more of his ridiculous little leaves.

There’s a lesson in all this. Somaliland doesn’t have a real tourism industry yet, and visitors need to find an experienced driver and make it clear to him from the beginning what they want. Drivers need to understand they’re being hired for the day, not for a certain number of kilometers. Hotel owners need to find reliable drivers. They need people who are relaxed, enjoy their work, and are flexible with international visitors who want to be shown everything.

And they need to find people who aren’t addicted to drugs.

Don’t miss the rest of my series on travel in Somaliland.

Next time: Somaliland, building a nation.