On the way to Barcelona

Two months parking at the airport was beyond exorbitant and as it appeared BC Transit had a bus running on Sunday we elected for that route.  WRONG.  Only Monday through Saturday.  Kevin to the rescue . . . he kindly deposited us at the airbnb we had booked in Victoria (there was no way we were  trusting early rush hour traffic over the Malahat).

It was a was comfortable place and well appointed, but you know how difficult it is to sleep the night before a big trip so it was hardly surprising I was awake around 5am and checking emails.  What’s this . . .  4 emails in 2 minutes from our host in Barcelona . .  . something must have happened.  With great trepidation I opened the first two, breathing a sigh of relief as she explained that she had been called into work and couldn’t meet us at the apartment, but had arranged for her friend Flavia to be there instead. Third email I had to read three times, just to be sure . . . I even read it in Spanish . . .  nope, that’s what it says.  I woke Glen, but was giggling so hard I couldn’t finish.  Apologies Fernanda . .  . but this was just too good to pass up:

I would like to say that I have a problem with the kidneys, and to avoid problems and acidents, I am leaving it in the living room with the door closed until it gets better. I hope it’s quick.

Thanks to Google Translate . . . and the omission of one small but vital word “cat”.

Warren, in the ordered Yellow Cab arrived promptly at five to eight and deposited us and our bags ten minutes later at the airport.  Grabbed a Tim Hortons’s croissant and juice before facing the long lines at security.  We sorted everything into trays exactly as directed . . .  not an item out of place, yet one of our bags, the electronics tray and ME were all tagged and pulled aside!  Mine was sorted with a simple swipe of baton over my hands . . .  the suitcase sat beside other suspicious luggage awaiting careful scrutiny.  No-one appeared to be in any hurry.  Eventually the cases ahead of ours were rummaged through and errant tubes of toothpaste and creams were pounced on and removed.  Nothing in ours except a suspect ‘dark’ object . . . the electronics given a cursory wipe and we were free to go.  The overhead luggage bin over our seat was strewn with a couple of cloth handbags disgorging various items and sweaters – all of which could have been accommodated under the seat instead . . .  so we re-organized it free of charge! 

Arrived in Edmonton with 30 of our precious 35 minutes to spare and sped the ten gates just as final boarding for Toronto was being announced . . . and slid to a halt at the check in desk. What did she say?  NO MORE CARRY-ON BAGS were being accepted, just things which could go under seats.  NOOoooo.  So much for all my careful culling and packing!  There was a frantic scramble by West Jet to get baggage tags printed (and there were a dozen more passengers waiting behind us) . . . the guy promised faithfully that our the bags would arrive in Barcelona <probably just to get rid of me>.  And seeing the plane was true, the overhead storage was crammed with not a milimeter to spare.  Uneventful flight into TO then a 3+ hour wait. 

We were on a new and spacious 787-9 and we settled in for the 7 and a half hour flight to Barcelona.  Snacks, refreshments and a ‘breakfast’ were provided (NB don’t order the pancakes!) but as always, food provided a distraction – along with the onboard entertainment – and the journey didn’t seem too tedious.  It was a bit of a nail-biting wait while the bags were disgorged onto the carousel – I think ours must have been almost the last . . . but arrive they did . . .  just missing one name tag.  Now to claim our transit pass for the trip into downtown.  

The man behind the glass shield said – out the door, gira derecha (turn right) and arriba pointing downwards . . . erm . . . isn’t arriba ‘upstairs’??  Oh well, no matter.  This is where I’m glad we didn’t have the big suitcases with us – there were  a ton of stairs down AND of course back up again, and no escalators.  Then it was onto the train into town and Metro out to where we’re staying . . . although we did so much walking between lines it felt as though we’d walked the whole way.