At Changi Airport, part 2.

In fact, pasta and beer and television gave way to a vegetarian lasagne and vanilla rooibos tea at a cafe in Frankfurt. And not just any cafe - this cafe was also part nightclub and part cocktail bar, just next to the U-Bahn station along the city loop. I was quite hungry on my walk back to the hotel, and decided any food would do. Particularly German food, which has the advantage of being both cheaper and far more plentiful than its French equivalent. I was greeted by music at just the right volume; candles, easily replaced when one was actually sneezed into inexistence; waitresses who understood when a weekend of forced habit caused me to accidentally speak French to them instead of German; and vanilla tea with real leaves, infused into a jug to be poured into a rather nice glass.

All of this soon gave way to my hotel room, and sleep. This was rudely ended early in the morning, whereupon it was replaced with breakfast, a U-Bahn, an S-Bahn, and then the half-destroyed Frankfurt Flughaven, amidst all its renovations. Before long, I was on a plane, facing many film choices, bizarre vegetarian cuisine (hash browns and pasta for breakfast?), and friendly German neighbours. And now, a considerably shorter wait at Changi Airport.

And soon, Melbourne, where the Erica and the Ben portions of this blog will converge once more.

And no, Justin, I won't be in the state, although thanks for the invitation. I'll call you tonight to explain.