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runwayrunway · 2 months

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MISS CONENGINALITY - BRITTEN-NORMAN BN-2 ISLANDER

Remember when the UK made the best airplanes in the world? Me neither, I wouldn't be born for several decades. Anyway, Britten-Norman Islander.

image: Air Seychelles

The last holdout of the UK making really fantastic planes, the Islander is a popular regional airliner and utility plane used for things like skydiving and air ambulance service as well as the typical passenger and cargo flights. At first glance she's a pretty regular high-wing twin-prop that seats 10, but look closer and you may begin to notice things.

Upfront, I love the Islander. (Obviously, or I wouldn't be making this post about it.) My love for this plane isn't solely organically developed, because it does also hold a special nostalgic place in my heart for being the first propeller plane I ever flew on, with Cape Air in 2015 from San Juan to Vieques. (As Vieques Air Link also operates these, they're a common sight down there! The name of the model is, as it were, very apt.)

image: Cape Air This is the exact plane that I flew on!

Now, from this image you can already see that the Islander has some lovely features, from those absolute bollards coming out of the engines to the wildly pointy nose (not the first plane I've discussed that's giving DUKW), but despite looking goofier the closer you look at it this thing is an incredibly beloved and reliable plane.

image: Bonham's Behold, a Britten-Norman BN-2 Islander.

Also of note is the Islander's extremely low wing aspect ratio, and I've always thought the tailplane looked a little too small for the tailfin from the side despite looking giant from below. The general ratios on this plane, in every single possible place, look just ever-so-slightly off, and I love it.

image: Mark Harkin I mean. She's just blocks.

Still, this is an incredibly well-designed plane. It's cheap, rugged, utilitarian, reliable, versatile, and remarkably stable in flight, which is why over 1,000 have been built to date. (Personally, I didn't find the cabin to be the roomiest even for an aircraft of its size, but I remember it being a comfortable enough flight.) The Islander is still in production today despite first flying in the mid-1960s, which is something few models can claim. You can use an Islander for basically anything, with their big doors and STOL capability, and it's even used for the world's shortest flight and an entry on my bucket list, the two-minute hop between Westray and Papa Westray operated by Loganair.

image: National Museum of Flight Scotland Despite being shown outside in this photograph, she currently lives in the civil aviation hangar, a top pick on my list of places I would like to secretly live in for the rest of my life.

image: own work, taken inside the civil aviation hangar at the National Museum of Flight, Scotland

In late October I visited the National Museum of Flight, Scotland. It was an incredible experience and I will be discussing it across several future posts due to the sheer variety of preserved airframes they had, including everything from a Puss Moth to a jump jet. (The general museum will probably get a dedicated post as well in the future - suffice to say I had a fantastic time.) Among their preserved aircraft is a BN-2 Islander registered G-BELF, painted a vivid highlighter-yellow which pictures really can't do justice in homage to Scottish air ambulances which serve isolated island communities in the North Sea.

I was absolutely delighted to see her in person. Seven years after I last stepped foot in an Islander, it felt like something of a reunion to just stand next to a mothballed airframe and admire how...really strange-looking these planes actually are.

own work, obvi

I mean, for one thing, they're a lot shorter than you might think they should be. Pictured for scale is a 165cm/5'5" tall human with a PSA Lockheed TriStar for a face. I couldn't get that good of an angle on it, but my head is only a few inches short of the wing, and you can see that I'm well taller than the cabin windows. An entire Islander is shorter than a single Concorde tire.

Plus, that wing chord is so long I could use her as a shelter in the rain.

So, yeah. That's the story of how I met my favorite commuter airliner. I hope to fly on one again someday, but for the moment I'll have to be content with looking at pictures of these weird-looking planes that can fool you for a moment into thinking they're regular.

Also they tried to put propeller shrouds on one once.

#miss conenginality #runway runway travelogues

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imrananwar · 5 months

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#Airport #BigApple #Bridge #buildings #IMRAN #ImranAnwar #iPhone #Landmark #NewYork #runway #seaside #signage #Travel #travelogue #Water #LaGuardiaAirport #LGA

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notesonfilm1 · 4 years

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A film noir travelogue, part of the runway production of the 50s but in minor key, black and white but cinemascope, American stars on the way down (Victor Mature), European stars on the way up (Anita Ekberg) with local stars in key roles: Trevor Howard is the villanous dope smuggler, insouciant, heartless, a prefiguring of Bond but accenting the seamy, the sordid, the dark. Sid James makes an appearance, and an impression, as the barman of a junkie hot-spot.

The film has a great opening shot which plays over the credits of a car going through Manhattan´s downtown and into Times Square. It´s my favourite sequence in the film, and is so good the Arrow Academy blu-ray shows it to you again, without the titles super-imposed. It´s just a travelling, shot from within a moving car, but it shows the huge theatres of the time, the Astor, the Capitol and so on, with the huge electronic marquees showing the big attractions of the era (Judy Holliday in The Solid Gold Cadillac, mixed in with Spencer Tracy and Robert Wagner in The Mountain, and Elvis Presley and Debra Paget, plus films like Teenage Rebel and so on) in twinkling lights at night.

Low-key lighting:

The film itself is a pulpy noir with great atmospheric low-key lighting as you can see below. Victor Mature is Charles Sturgis, a New York Cop. His sister has been killed and in order to find the killer, he goes to London and joins forces with Interpol. Clues lead him to follow Gina Broger (Anita Ekberg) who eventually leads him to Frank McNally (Trevor Howard)

Glamorous locations (New York, London, Lisbon, Rome, Naples, Athens):

Via chasing the dope-fiend we get to experience some of the great captials of Europe, shot on location, and pre-figuring some of the work producer Albert Broccoli would go on to do with the Bond series.

Compositions:

Director John Gilling has a good eye for compositions (see below) and there is much of interest visually in the film. However, whilst it´s always interesting, it also feels not fully realised, as if the compositions don´t convey enough about characterisation or drama and fulfil only the role atmospherics that catch the eye.

Set-pieces:

Again, pre-figuring Bond but on a smaller scale are some of the action set-pieces in the film, as you can see below, action sequences over the rooftops of London, the docks of New York, interestingly visualised by having to run over barrels or being lifted up by cranes.

A fascinating noir, interesting for all the reasons mentioned above and more, but not quite one of the best: Victor Mature looks like he´s been shagging all night, bored and half-asleep, rousing energy only when it´s time to hit someone. Anita Ekberg looks extraordinary but is only used for her looks. Trevor Howard looks much older than his years, a thought quickly erased by the vivd performance he ends up giving. Gillings shot everything slightly wonking, which I¨m sure is meant to have an expressive effect but ends up also being irritating. And the treatment never rises above the pulpiness o its material, both a weakness and a strength.

A note on Pickup Alley (John Gilling, UK, 1957) A film noir travelogue, part of the runway production of the 50s but in minor key, black and white but cinemascope, American stars on the way down (Victor Mature), European stars on the way up (Anita Ekberg) with local stars in key roles: Trevor Howard is the villanous dope smuggler, insouciant, heartless, a prefiguring of Bond but accenting the seamy, the sordid, the dark.

#Albert Broccoli #Anita Ekberg #Bond #dope rings #film noir #Pickup Alley #Sid Field #Trevor Howard #Victor Mature

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amarnathpallathsblog · 4 years

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Bali

Travelogue - Leaf - 31

Columbus when he set sail from Spain in 1492; he had conviction that the world is not flat though majority believed it was. After 527 years we are able to understand the meaning conveyed in the book of Thomas Friedman the "World is Flat". We have shrunk in the globe.

As we go places, I find we live in a Flat world. Henosis, is a concept of Greek mysticism that talks about 'oneness'.

In Bali we spent a good time exploring the simple ways people live, eat, set their goals, the serene atmosphere and their culture. Set in a relaxed ambience, we were unable to push our accelerators and stillness influenced our heart beats. We became one with Bali culture.

The runway to Bali is extended into the sea at Denpasar Airport. The beaches, musicians around, the Balenese recipe with a variety in colors and textures was pleasing. The colorful costumes in dance, temple rituals, the entire attitude of those whom we met were simple and special.

After a tasty meal, we sat in front of Mount Agung the volcano and realised peace. Thoughts put me on a test. On one side the fear of eruption and on the other, desire for comforts. My view about life sharpened when we sat near volcano, oscillating between fear and desire.

Though we flew out of Bali in 2003, reflections from that trip keeps my mind wander in an attempt to change my attitude.

I sat today and thought about COMFORT that we often seek in physical form and the HAPPINESS quotient. These are two different things. Comfort is about a relaxed mind; happiness is derived from within us.

A pause, a stopover, a deviation, a serene atmosphere ignites to search happiness within.

I remember, long ago someone asked me what my aim was? I answered - to find meaning of happiness. Today I tend to WEAR Happiness and think Drew Barrymore is right - "Happiness is the best makeup".

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yourweirdestnightmare1995 · 6 years

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Travelogue #4 - The Longest Short Day + The Afterparty

Sunday, August 26th, 2018 11:20 hours

I fell asleep last night before I could do the travelogue for yesterday, so please allow me to fill you in.

The event yesterday was supposed to be fast and easy due to being shorter than the rest, but that wasn’t the case at all. Not only did they bring me in early to help set up other staff events, but they also used me as a runner for the hot dog stand, running back and forth with whatever items they wanted me to bring across the store. This in addition with other staff starting to really talk shit about each other made for a stressful, long short day. At least the event itself went perfectly fine. I was actually one-upped for puns by the guy I was working next to. So many Adele jokes and the classic about Kermit the Frog “croaking”. I just let him have the limelight this time. THIS time. If we ever work together again, it becomes a competition. It’s fucking on.

As stressful as this day was, the “afterparty” when we got back to the hotel definitely washed that all away. We grilled out brats by the pool and had a few drinks. I found out my boss was a heavy drinker of Corona when she wanted to be, and that COMPLETELY threw me for a loop. She popped 2-3 just while we were out there. I wasn’t completely sober either between a mini-bottle of Sweet Red and my wax pen (which I kept in the room but hit the fuck out of before I came downstairs). It just reminds me of how much of a drunk lightweight I am. Halfway through the mini-bottle and I’m swaying.

By the end of the night, everyone was laughing, making jokes, and trading stories. My favorite one was my boss’s story of when her mom and dad accidentally drove their way onto a airport runway without even realizing it, only to remark “Nice road! Weird lights.” before getting stopped and asked what the hell they were doing. Between this, all of the stories about how her family has confused the government with several passports and birth certificates, and the incessant jokes everyone was making about nothing being legit due to CIA, mafia, and Witness Protection Program suspicions, it was a hilarious, drunken night. The perfect ending to a not-so-perfect day.

#travelogue #drunk nights #stressful days

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betweensceneswriter · 6 years

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Jimjeran-Chapter 2 Miss Peach-ay

Jimjeran (Shim-sher͂on) : Marshallese – a lifelong companion Claire is a nurse in the Peace Corps, spending 18 months in the Marshall Islands. Down the road, three Peace Corps volunteers–Jamie, Angus, and Rupert–are running the local elementary school.

Click Here to Hop to the Table of Contents

Click here for Audio Version--I am no Davina Porter. Still working on my Jamie, Angus & Rupert. But as for the Marshallese words, you can imagine them, or you can hear me butcher them like Claire would.

“What the hell was I thinking?”

“Did you say something, Claire?” Laura yelled over the roar of the airplane engines.

“No,” I responded, shaking my head and staring down at the little green and white loop of shoe-string flung in the middle of the indigo Pacific Ocean, my home for at least the next 18 months.

I thought our pilot was trying to land us in the water as the plane began to slow and descend. I couldn’t see anything beneath us, in front of us, or to either side.

“What’s he doing?” I finally yelled to Laura, terrified. “There aren’t pontoons on this plane!”

“Don’t worry. He’s landing on the airstrip,” she yelled back. Airstrip? It wasn’t until we were merely hundreds of feet off the ground and the tall green coconut palm trees came into sight that I realized she wasn’t kidding. We were landing on an airstrip, indeed—an airstrip that took up the entire width of the island. As the plane taxied bumpily on the grass runway, I looked in amazement at my surroundings. Water to my left, water to my right.

“You knew it was an atoll, didn’t you?” Laura asked, grinning at the shell-shocked look of terror in my eyes.

“I knew what atoll meant, but I didn’t realize it referred to an island that is only like, five feet wide,” I said, extricating myself out of the cramped seat once the plane had stopped and the engines had sputtered until the propellers were still.

“Don’t exaggerate,” Laura laughed. “At its narrowest point, it’s still at least 30 feet wide.”

I’d stared at the little island of Arno on Google Earth, zooming in as close as I could when I’d first accepted the assignment, curious about this place I’d never been. I could see the wide treed portion where the clinic was in the village of Ine, and I’d followed the narrow strip with a single road down the center around to see where the main island ended but the shallower water continued along the edge of the lagoon, soon to become another little island in the circular chain.

I had always dreamed of being in the Peace Corps, volunteering in some remote community for a year or two after college. But Frank Randall and I had met when I was just a freshman, and twitter-pated by the handsome, mature, intelligent history major’s interest in me I had simply forgotten who I had wanted to be one day. Frank graduated that year, continued toward his masters’ degree, and then taught in the history department my final year in the nursing program. When I graduated, he proposed.

Five years after graduating, Frank and I were still engaged and living together, just had never set a date. So on my 27th birthday I had announced to him that I was joining the Peace Corps.

“You’re kidding, right, Claire?” he said, taken aback by my cavalier announcement.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re not married yet, we don’t have kids yet, and you’re doing research for your doctoral thesis. You can use the focused time to write, and I won’t have regrets once I’m too old or too entangled to volunteer anymore.”

“Eighteen months, though, Claire?” Frank looked at me in concern. “You know fertility decreases with age, don’t you?”

“And you know we haven’t been using birth control for the last five years, don’t you?” I responded. “If it was going to happen naturally, it would have happened by now.” I’d stopped taking the pill when I finished my last day of nursing school, figuring if we got pregnant at least that might light a fire under laconic Frank’s ass. I’d dropped enough hints about marriage, and I was getting tired of my mom scolding me, saying, “They say a man won’t buy a cow when the milk is free.”

Thinking about Frank’s disappointed confusion had me feeling emotional, but I blinked the tears away and whipped my hair up into a sloppy bun. It was humid, and not only did my naturally curly hair get ten times curlier, my neck and face were almost instantly glistening with sweat, and I could feel a single droplet traveling down between my breasts.

A pickup truck had rattled up to the plane, and Laura and I took turns handing heavy boxes down from the cargo hold of the plane and then putting them in the back of the truck, practically filling the truck bed with boxes. When everything was loaded, Laura went to the pilot. Holding up two fingers, she said, “Ruo awa.” Two hours. I almost had a panic attack at the thought.

Laura came smilingly back to the pickup, where it seemed as if the driver was asking Laura if we wanted to ride or walk. After the cramped half hour on the plane, I thought walking might be nice, but I was only wearing sandals and it sounded like the clinic was two miles away. I needed as much useful time with Laura as possible. With the idea of seeing the clinic and apartment as another motivator, I hopped up into the bed, found a sturdy box and sat down, tucking the skirt of my sundress around my legs so it wouldn’t fly up in the breeze.

Laura smiled at my wide-eyed fascination as we rode along, attempting to point out different landmarks. I didn’t need a travelogue, though; my brain felt full enough as it was. It seemed like I’d been transported back in time. The airstrip had been in a completely clear grassy area with no trees, but we quickly reached the coconut palm tree “forest,” if that’s what you could call it, coconut trees scattered across the sandy landscape, interspersed with bushes, some places overrun with green jungle plants. The road was white gravel. At times it was level and looked like any other dirt or gravel road I’d seen, but at other times it was two narrow channels of tire tracks with a grassy stripe down the middle.

After a few minutes, we began to see signs of life. Two little kids walked along the road barefoot, the little girl in a skirt and tee shirt, the toddler in just a tee with a pair of bare brown buns below. They moved to the side of the road and waved and smiled at us, white teeth beautifully splitting their tan faces.

“They’ll steal your hearts,” Laura said. “Gosh, I’m going to miss them.”

“Well, thanks for sticking around to give me an initiation,” I said. “There’s no way I would have known how to shop for six months at a time, and I can’t imagine finding my way out here with my limited language knowledge.”

I had tried, honestly I had. But between having the stomach flu for three days during the immersive training in Hawaii and my chronic thick-headedness when it came to learning foreign languages, I had escaped from my language orientation knowing only “Where are you going?” “Kwej etal n͂an ia?*” and “Ejjab melele**,” which meant, helpfully, “I don’t understand.”

Thankfully, I was going to have a translator for a few hours each morning during my basic clinic time, so I could learn about people’s symptoms and better treat and teach them.

Laura had been the nurse on Arno for the previous 18 months. With her service time coming to an end, the Corps had sought a replacement for her, and I was the one chosen. An island with an area of a mere 5 square miles with only 2000 inhabitants spread throughout the 133 little islands surrounding the large central and two smaller lagoons didn’t warrant a huge hospital, but having a nurse practitioner at the clinic brought about an instant improvement to the quality of life for the locals. I would be responsible for basic health and sanitation education, family planning advice and medications, and general emergency care. For more serious injuries or trauma, the hospital on Majuro, 20 miles away, was able to send a helicopter to the airfield to pick up patients.

“That’s the Iroij’s*** house,” Laura shouted over the rattle of the truck, gesturing at a utilitarian cement block structure a ways back from the road on a slight rise. It was surrounded by a few other small houses, outbuildings, and shacks, and had a neatly kept yard covered with white gravel. “Mr. Timisen is the local governor. He speaks pretty decent English, and he has one of the two satellite phones on the island, if you need to get word to headquarters in Majuro before your short wave radio appointment.”

Where we were currently driving I couldn’t see the ocean, but every once in a while I would catch a glimpse of the turquoise water of the lagoon. It was surreal, beautiful, and humid. I scratched my leg; I think so far I’d counted sixteen mosquito bites. I was grateful for the multiple cans of bug spray I had packed in one of the boxes.

As we went farther, there were more and more houses—gray brick buildings with low windows, shacks cobbled together of corrugated aluminum, plywood, and plastic sheeting, some with grass or palm branch roofs, and yards of the same white rocks.

Adults and children stared at us curiously. Laura seemed to get the lion’s share of the greetings and smiles. “Miss Leenchah!” they called out excitedly. “Miss Leenchah, iiọkwe eok!”

“Leenchah?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t your last name Lynch?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Putting “uh” or “ay” at the end of your name is a Marshall term of endearment. You’ll have to write and tell me what nickname they give you!”

Write. Now that was a new one. Write with pen and paper, envelopes, and stamps. Arno didn’t have electricity, much less cell service or WiFi. I was already panicking without my cell phone to look at for the time, the weather, the news, texts from friends. I’d bought an actual wristwatch, but not really wanting a watch tan, I’d found a cute watch necklace, which hung upside down. I could easily grab the watch and check the time, without the claustrophobic sweaty feel of a wristwatch.

And with that, the pickup pulled off to the side of the road, the tires making a crunching sound in the thick gravel.

There it was, my clinic! A nondescript building, boxy and white, it had an angled roof with solar panels on it, and louvered windows with screens. Laura hopped out and offered me a hand down from the truck. Looking around, I saw that a small crowd had gathered. Laura spoke to the group in what sure sounded like fluent Marshallese, but of course I wouldn’t know. Finally she gestured to me and said “Your new nurse, Miss Beauchamp.” I could see them mentally processing the name. Finally a small voice piped up, “Welcome, Miss Peach-ay!”

Laura smiled. “Guess I don’t have to wait to find out, Miss ‘Peach-ay’!”

The crowd of men, women, and children gathered around the truck. With much greater speed than we’d loaded, the boxes were whisked out of the truck and into the apartment or the clinic as Laura directed them.

“House first, or clinic?” Laura asked. She had just been surrounded by a crowd of kids, and I realized she had been handing out chewing gum to her eager fans. “Bribery never hurts,” she grinned. “I bought you some gum to share.”

“Clinic, I think,” I responded. “Seems more important.”

Laura ushered me through the door into the clinic. Only about 20 by 20 feet, it held one small hospital bed at the back of the room and an examination table, both with curtains that could be pulled around them. There was a sink that had a pump handled faucet next to what looked like a kerosene stove. A long counter with cupboards above and below was along one wall, and there was an old-school scale as well as an infant scale on a table next to it. One locked cupboard stood on the far wall. I assumed that contained most of the medicine, though we had brought a supply of new medications and bandages in three of the boxes we’d brought from Majuro.

“So, no running water, and no hot water?” I double-checked, still a little amazed that there were places without running water in this day and age. “Just the pump?”

“And a big tea kettle and kerosene stove,” she said. “I always try to keep some water hot or warm for washing boils or cuts, but it’s pretty quick to heat if you forget. They sell kerosene at Mr. Ogawa’s store. Don’t forget to keep yourself stocked. You’ve got solar powered lights, but they don’t last forever, so you’ve got kerosene lanterns for another source of light.”

Looking around the room for anything else she’d forgotten, Laura showed me the calendar and schedule on the wall. “First Monday of the month is Depo day. Depo Provera shots for any women who are doing family planning. Infant mortality is really high if they don’t wait long enough between pregnancies. Second Monday is well child check-ups. Third Monday is health day. You’ll teach some sort of lesson on cleanliness, sanitation, or nutrition. And the fourth Monday afternoon is teen time. You can answer questions about safer sex, good dental health, things like that.”

“How busy will I be?” I asked, feeling overwhelmed at the barrage of information. It wasn’t like nursing was new to me, and I’d oriented on tons of different floors in hospitals. With finishing the Nurse Practitioner program, I was more independent and comfortable assessing and treating a whole variety of illnesses. It was just the combination of the heat, the humidity, the new environment, and the underlying sense that time was passing quickly, and that Laura would inevitably be leaving me. Alone.

“Totally depends,” she said. “Mondays are the busiest, of course. And you’re “on” all the time, so be sure to leave a note on the door to let them know where to find you, but definitely make sure you relax. Go snorkeling, learn to spearfish, visit families. That’s probably where you’ll do the best community health. Observe people in their environments and figure out which habits are causing poor health. And then, as they get to know and trust you, help them learn how best to improve their lives.”

She passed the clinic keys off to me on a stretchy hot-pink curlicue cord to put around my wrist—a key for the medicine cabinet, and two keys for the door. We locked the clinic door, and headed around the corner to the attached apartment.

As I stepped in the door of my new residence, I was stunned. This wasn’t a house or an apartment; this was a cabin. A stark kitchen with open lower cabinets was to the right of the entrance. A set of shelves to my left held a can of spinach and a tin of something. Beyond the pantry, a little closet area consisted of a stark bar with some hangers on it and a mirror over a chest of drawers. One twin bed and a bunkbed flanked the big window at the far end of the room floored with dark unvarnished wood. Stunned as I was by how plain it was, I found myself drawn across the house to the window. I turned the dusty louvers to get a better view, and as I stood there, I took a deep breath. It was poster-worthy perfect. White sand melted into aqua water that deepened into teal at the center of the lagoon. Ghostly green bumps along the horizon showed where the other islands in the chain were across the lagoon. And the sky was a heartbreaking blue beyond blue, filled with white clouds.

“You will never find another place this beautiful,” Laura said quietly as she came to stand by me. My nose was prickling and my eyes were watering. “You’re going to be okay,” she said. I turned to her and crumpled into a hug as she patted my back.

Laura helped me unpack the cans and plastic bins of food into the pantry, helped me hang up my sundresses and make my bed with clean sheets. She showed me the well and demonstrated the best method for getting the tin bucket to fill with water; took me to see the little shower stall attached behind the apartment, open to the sky. She took me to the outhouse, helping me use the bucket of water to flush the “real” toilet. She showed me the short wave radio and wrote down the instructions for how to use it. As we finished each task, I could feel the passage of time, and a sense of terror rising in my chest. Finally, it could be avoided no longer. A honk announced that Laura’s ride back to the airport had arrived.

“Tomorrow will be awesome,” she said. “You’ll see all the little kids for well-child checkups, and the mamas will be sweet to you, even if they don’t speak a word of English. Sharbella is supposed to show up at about 9…but realistically, she’ll be here at 10. Island time, you know.”

I walked Laura out to the truck and gave her a final hug.

“If you’re dying for conversation in English, there are a few young guys teaching at the local school down the road that way,” Laura said, gesturing indistinctly down the road. “They’re also in the Peace Corps, but they are…” she wrinkled her forehead, shook her head, and smiled. “Well, I’ll let you decide how you feel about them.”

She climbed into the passenger side, and the truck pulled away from the cabin, tires crunching in the gravel. I waved goodbye to Laura, standing on the doorstep of the clinic. And I spoke the words to myself again.

What the hell was I thinking?

*Kway´ zhuh tell´ n͂an yah´<br /> **etch´-up (like ketchup, with no k) muh lah´ lay<br /> ***ee roych´<br /> ****yock´ way yook´--I love you!

On to Chapter 3 : Pain in the Arse Claire's lonely, so she takes some dinner to the boys, meets some island kids on the way, and loses a battle of wills with Jamie.

#alternate universe #jamie x claire #Marshallislands #Outlander fanfic #BetweenSceneswriter

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stuartmoss · 5 years

Video

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Approach, Aborted Landing, Go-Around, Landing and Taxi at Dublin Airport, Ireland - 7 April, 2019.

I've just added a new video to my Aviation: Ireland: Dublin Airport (DUB) playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLvGU73l75qxWZXkPbUeDLt-TE00egT14w of the view from FR157, a Ryanair Boeing 737 as it approaches, Dublin Airport, where there is much thick low cloud. En-route the aircraft passes Howth, Sutton, Portmarnock Golf Club, Baldoyle, Clongriffin, Donaghmede, Belmayne, Fingal Cemetery, Balgriffin Cemetery, Darndale, and the M1 motorway. As the aircraft descends over the apron of Dublin Airport, it suddenly ascends as the pilot aborts the landing due to visibility issues with the low cloud. After this, the aircraft circles for a period, during which the Captain explains what is happening. After a while the aircraft safely lands on the Westerly runway at Dublin International Airport and taxis to the terminal.

Dublin Airport, (Irish: Aerfort Bhaile Átha Cliath) (IATA: DUB, ICAO: EIDW), is an international airport serving Dublin, the capital city of Ireland. The airport is located 5.4 nmi (10.0 km; 6.2 mi) north of Dublin in Collinstown. It is the 15th busiest airport in Europe, and is also the busiest of the state's airports by total passenger traffic. It has the greatest traffic levels on the island of Ireland, to read more about Dublin Airport, click here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dublin_Airport . To see a film of Dublin, click here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axQDpPz7gaE .

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mitsueki · 5 years

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HOME is peering out of the @jetstarasia airplane window and seeing the familiar views of @changiairport and the iconic control tower whilst on the runway. HOME is domestic bliss - sitting with my mom as I share the snacks and regale her with my stories from my recent Okinawa travel trip. HOME also means you gotta face the hellish nightmare and reality of unpacking your luggage, laundry as well as sorting out all the souvenirs, gifts and all the things you've bought (and may regret buying, lol). HOME also signals that your trip is truly over. Welcome #backtoreality! Fin, The End 🇸🇬🇯🇵 Till the next trip. Read my full Okinawa Travelogue Series on my blog here ➡️ http://bit.ly/mitsuekiokinawa x (at Singapore) https://www.instagram.com/p/BuF00N2hZH6/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=10cjco9jzg6bt

#backtoreality

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ds4techofficial · 4 years

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For Jessica Minh Anh all the world’s her runway

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Jessica Minh Anh has a knack. The model and fashion show producer can turn anything into a runway. Eiffel Tower: tick, Hoover Dam: tick, Petronus Twin Towers Skybridge: tick, Gemasolar Thermal Power Plant: tick. The most recent being the John F Kennedy International Airport where she and a bevy of models walked the runway with majestic aircraft for company. That was her 25th show. Known…

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#Fashion #fashion show #runway #shoot #Travel #travel show #travelogue #Vietnam

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aug703 · 7 years

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#aizawl #airport #innerlinepermit #mizoram #india #hodophileschronicle #rains #mountain #tablemountain #runway #travelogue (at Lengpui Airport)

#india #mizoram #airport #aizawl #mountain #runway #innerlinepermit #rains #hodophileschronicle #tablemountain #travelogue

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runwayrunway · 6 months

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Anyone else feeling American Airlines 777-200 infant life vest safety card diagramme tonight?

#off-duty #runway runway travelogues

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marienela · 5 years

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On the first day of New York Fashion Week, Tadashi Shoji took fashionistas to an Asian travelogue as he reinterpreted and reimagined the traditional dresses of South Asia while incorporating into it the magnificent landscape and wonderful blossoms of the region.

Southeast Asia with its diverse landscape and culture is a kaleidoscope of shapes and color. From the palette of shiny gold stupas to the floating markets then to the elegant silk brocades arise graceful proportions.

Luxurious one-shoulder folds hint at the shawl-like sabai, and a glimpse of a midriff entices a longer gaze. Buddhist monks inspire tailored draping that wraps around the body in flattering sweeps.

Dazzling temples with rich ornamentation that reveal each culture’s artistic expression instigate architectural silhouettes. Pleated-tulle tiers with pronounced seams mimic the visual rhythms created by steep, layered roofs. Stupas with elaborate moldings and crown-like spires inspire detailed and intricate textures.

On his press notes, Tadashi Shoji wrote, “a visit to Southeast Asia promises cultural intrigue. Each trip to Southeast Asia is a journey to enchantment, where warm welcomes and perpetual allure suggest there is always more to discover.”

This is exactly how his audience felt as each exit came to view, everyone promising more secrets to discover!

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 1 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 2 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 3 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 5 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 6 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 7 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 8 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 9 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 10 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 11 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 12 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 13 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 14 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 15 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 16 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 17 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 18 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 19 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 20 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 21 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 22 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 23 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 24 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 25 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 26 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 27 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 28 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 29 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 30 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 31 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 32 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 33 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 34 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 35 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 36 for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

NEW YORK, NY – FEBRUARY 07: A model walks the runway in look 37 in look for the Tadashi Shoji FW’19 Fashion Show during New York Fashion Week: The Shows at Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 7, 2019 in New York City. (Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Tadashi Shoji)

Photos courtesy of Tadashi Shoji

Tadashi Shoji Fall 2019: Asian Travelouge #NYFW @LindaGauntCo @TadashiShoji On the first day of New York Fashion Week, Tadashi Shoji took fashionistas to an Asian travelogue as he reinterpreted and reimagined the traditional dresses of South Asia while incorporating into it the magnificent landscape and wonderful blossoms of the region.

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