First of all, sorry metric fans, altitude just sounds cooler in feet.
Secondly, get excited. I have. I’ve had an amazing 24 hours which have seen the Princess scale new heights, take on new experiences and visit a whole new continent. Yes – I am in Istanbul and this is coming to you live from the Ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton. Check that out. I want to type it again, it felt so good. The only thing that would feel better is spending another hour under the dinner-plate sized shower in my Turkish marble bathroom, soaping myself with Ritz-branded freebies and stuffing Turkish delight into my mouth. Mmmm.
I’ve only got one thing to say in my defence, which is that I really do appreciate how lucky I am. And I know I’ve hit journalistic junket jackpot with this one — I’ve been speaking to colleague far more experienced and worldy-wise than me who are impressed as well. And also — I have been working. The only reason I’m able to write this now is that I’m stuck waiting in a queue for an interview, instead of checking out the hotel pool or going on a loukoum, baklava and belly-dancing outfit shopping spree. But overall it’s pretty damn fine.
When I started this whold ‘blogging’ exercise I wanted to it to be about canapés — it’s right up there in the strapline. It’s time to take this back to basics, because I’ve been reminded just how awe-inspiring a really, really good canapé can be. When I tentatively nibbled the outsize chunk of smooth, creamy foie gras, perched atop a little slover of rye bread, holding my precious cargo to protect it from turbulence as our private flight soared over the Rhine, a brief moment of Zen-like calm filled my soul, and a tear welled in my eye as I realised just how good things can be. When the nice lady gave me a glass of billecart-saumon reserve to go with it, well my cup ranneth over. Literally. Cause when the plane’s lighter it gets buffeted more.
Smoked salmon ensued, and I tracked our destinantion on the screen. Yes — I was truly in an earthly paradise. For whilst my gourmandisme was sated with blinis and fizz, my geeky side revelled in little plasma screen which folded down magically from the ceiling and told me the temperature outside (-56 C) our ground speed (998 km/h) and our
Arrrgh! I’d got through the hotel description, the food, the obligatory journo bit, and when we get to the Really Important Stuff like plasma TVs, the article stops!
To express my feelings requires a quotation from a master of subtle prose working at his peak, describing a heartwrenching moment of unbearable agony. “NoOooOoOoOoO”, said Anakin. And now me.
Dear mole,
Thank you for your loyal readership!
I had to run and do an interview. Now I am going to check out the pool but don’t worry I’ll update later – with a PHOTO of my plasma screen TV!
xxx PrincessBenelux
Congratulations, Princess. As long as you manage to keep your sense of humor and never once forget how very privileged is the privileged Princess, we merest non-royals won’t hate you nearly as much. Very funny stuff. Love your take.
Oh man… it all sounds too good, too decadent, too lovely… You must take us on more of these trips… Ugh… blinis and champagne… where’s mine??? Sorry you had to work during all this, though when I’m reading it I’ll admit I try to blot out the working part from my images – just doesn’t go, really, does it?
Can’t wait to read about the next one – no one does giddy semi-earned but wholly appreciative luxury like you!
Why is it that I always end up reading this when I’m hungry? Which just makes the canape envy a million times worse. My orange kitkat (though delicious and equally well deserved) really doesn’t match up to the delicacies you describe
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