High flier

We all take them at one time or another; but how do you survive a long-haul flight?

I have always deeply envied those people who can get on an airplane, buckle themselves into their seat, and drop into a deep sleep that is broken only with the impact of the plane landing at their destination. How do they do that, I wonder, as I lie awake with the background noise of their gentle snores wafting around me. How can they possibly be so relaxed that they can nod off even before the seat-belt sign has been switched off? How is it possible that the noise of that wailing child or the hustle and bustle of the dinner/lunch service does not rouse them from their slumber?

What exactly are these people made of? Well, they are certainly made of sterner stuff than me. Despite the long decades I have spent racking up frequent-flyer miles, I have yet to master the art of sleeping through a flight. Sometimes when I am desperate to catch a few winks, I scoff a couple of glasses of champagne and lie back and hope for the best. But no, the best I can manage is an hour or so of fitful sleep before I am wide awake once again -- and now a little sore in my head for good measure.

But what all this wakefulness has meant is that I have developed some sure-shot measures of surviving long-haul flights over the years. And this Sunday morning, having just got off a 16-hour non-stop flight from San Francisco, I am going to share some of them with you:

* Try and create your own personal bubble on the airplane. I know, it's tough (and impossible if you are travelling with kids) but give it a try. The first step in this process is slipping on your noise-cancelling headphones -- buy the expensive ones; they will more than pay for themselves in the long term -- if you don't intend to watch a movie or listen to music. Not only will this insulate you from the noise in the cabin, it will also deter the man/woman in the next seat from engaging you in dreary conversation for hours on end.

* Don't depend on the in-flight entertainment provided by the airline; all too often it consists of old releases and TV series that are a couple of seasons past their see-by date. Instead, download a couple of movies or TV shows that you would really like to watch on your iPad or tablet. If movies aren't your thing, then pack a good book or two. Or do what I do to keep my hand luggage at a minimum: download the latest bestsellers on your e-reader -- there really is nothing like a long flight to catch up on your reading, without any fear of interruption. (The added advantage of e-readers is that they don't strain your eyes the way reading fine print in the less than ideal illumination provided by the overhead lights does.)

* Extend the idea of customisation to your clothes as well. Even if you are travelling in Business Class, where you will be handed a pair of socks and an eye-mask as part of the service, do your own thing. Pack a pair of cashmere socks and a cozy cardigan to slip on once the air-conditioning hits Arctic levels. I always say no to the airline blanket (mostly because nearly all of them, no matter which the airline, set off my allergies) and carry an oversized pashmina shawl instead. You have no idea how comforting it feels against my skin as I settle down to read the latest Elizabeth George on my Kindle.

* And yes, shoes. Shoes are the key. I have always looked at those ladies who think nothing of negotiating airports and airplanes in four-inch heels with a mixture of awe and pity. But believe me, you do not want to be one of those women. So, step away from the stilettos and wedges and slip on a pair of comfortable shoes. Make sure they are a loose fit because your feet are guaranteed to swell up during the plane ride, and squeezing them into shoes that suddenly seem a size too small is nobody's idea of fun.

* I think we can all agree that airline food is dire. Which is why I try and avoid eating on planes as much as possible. But what do you do on a flight that lasts more than nine hours? Starvation is not an option; at least not for someone like me who likes her food. And nor is packing parathas or theplas -- just too much of a palaver, if you ask me. So, I use this time to indulge in all those guilt-inducing treats that I would normally eschew on terra firma: bags of Kettle chips; snack-sized bars of Snickers; buttery salted popcorn; and tubs of ice-cream if the airline is kind enough to serve it.

* 'Stay hydrated' is the mantra that all air-hostesses follow. And I guess they know a thing or two about surviving long-haul flights without looking like complete wrecks at the end of it. So, drinks lots of water, spray some of it on your face, and slather on the moisturising cream.

* And last, but not the least, never forget to pack a pair of killer sunglasses. That way, when you step off at the other end, all bleary-eyed and puffy-faced, you can slip them on and look glamorous -- even if you don't quite feel it.

Dishing it out

What I hate about eating in fancy restaurants

There are many things to love about eating in big, fancy restaurants. There are the crisp white tablecloths, gleaming with the promise of a good meal. There is the smartly-uniformed wait staff, with nary a soiled shirtfront or stained trouser in sight. There is the soft whisper of muted conversation, the discreet tinkle of wine glasses, the occasional clunk of the silverware, all of it adding up to an atmosphere of temple-like calm – all the better for you to enjoy an outstanding meal served up by the presiding deity in the kitchen.

What’s not to love, right?

Right.

But even at the risk of sounding like a churlish grump, I have to confess that there are many, many things I absolutely loath about dining experiences like the one detailed above. 

First off, is the overbearing attention. From the time you enter to the moment you depart, there isn’t a single moment when you feel truly alone, enjoying a lovely meal or a special occasion with your loved ones. There is always someone infringing into your personal space or lurking within earshot to listen in to your conversation. And it is impossible to go 10 minutes without someone asking if your dish was okay, if you’re having a good time, if you’d like something else. The much-touted concept of the dining ‘bubble’, the sacrosanct space within which no server should intrude, is something that very few fancy restaurants seem to understand or respect.

So, if anyone who runs or works in such an establishment is reading this, here’s a handy list of the many things I hate about eating out in fancy restaurants. 

• Waiters who rush up the moment you are seated, unfurl the napkin lying in front of you and place it, with a flourish, on your lap. There are so many things wrong with this scenario is that I don’t quite know where to begin. There’s the assumption that you can’t perform a simple task like unfurling your own napkin. There’s the intrusion into your personal space, when your server’s hand are perilously close to your bosom/stomach/groin area. And there’s the aspect of hygiene: why would I want that pristine cloth that is about to be placed on my lap to be touched by someone else? (The last one is probably just me and my OCD speaking.)

• The first question you are asked when you have been seated and ‘napkin-ed’ invariably is: “Still or sparkling?” Or, if the establishment is even more pretentious than most, the question comes coached in terms of “Evian or Perrier?” I have yet to visit an expensive restaurant that offers you tap water as an alternative. If you want tap water – which is perfectly safe in such establishments – you have to ask for it. And they are depending on the fact that you will be too embarrassed to ask (for fear of being seen as a cheapskate) to make a profit on every sip you take. Which is why I make it a point to do so.

• Food served in shallow bowls or plates with a rim. As far as I am concerned, the only thing that should come in a bowl is soup, or at a pinch, a risotto. Anything that requires cutting with a knife and fork should come in a plate; because there is nothing quite as awkward as trying to cut a piece of meat or fish in a shallow bowl which wobbles precariously with each attempt. And no plates with a raised rim please. When I place my fork and knife on the plate between bites, I have a reasonable expectation that they will stay in place, not clatter off and fall on the floor. It’s embarrassing for me, and more work for the wait staff if they do. So, just stick to simple, old-style plates, and we’ll do just fine.

• Upselling everything, from the aperitif to the wine to the overpriced lobster. This is especially galling when you see your host being press-ganged into ordering pink champagne as a pre-dinner drink, or an expensive bottle of red/white, even though he was looking for a bargain. And waiters/managers who push your guests towards the Beluga caviar when asked to recommend something deserve a special place in dining hell.

• When I visit a restaurant what I want is a good meal without a side-order of freezing-to-death. But no matter what the season, you can be sure that the temperature in a fancy restaurant will be Arctic in nature. If you complain, three members of staff will come and offer you a shawl (“We have pashminas in every shade for our lady guests”). Surely it would be simpler to just turn up the temperature on the AC controls. But no, that seems a step too fair. It’s the pashmina or perishing in the cold. Take your pick.

• Sometimes when I come out to lunch or dinner with a book, I really am looking forward to reading that book. But to the wait staff at a restaurant, I just look like a sad, lonely soul, who has been reduced to eating out alone. So, they gamely – and I am sure, with the best of intentions – try and sit in for my missing friends, making small talk as I eat my meal. And no matter how monosyllabic my replies or how discouraging my body language, they persist with their conversational gambits. But guys, I really am okay being on my own. And I really would like to read my book. In peace. With no interruptions. Though another glass of that pink champagne would be just great.