Comings and goings

Yesterday, while Clare did some errands, I spent the morning updating various computers at home, knowing how much machine minding this would entail after nearly two months away. In the afternoon we went to friend Andrea's seventieth birthday party at her chalet down on the Lavernock Point holiday park. It took us ages to find the place as I made a directional error when we arrived in nearby Penarth, so we ended up visiting and enquiring after her on two other sites before finding the right one. Fortunately the weather was good, so wandering through the lanes of coastal South Glamorgan was not unpleasant, even if slightly annoying.

This morning, we woke up early, before the alarms went off, and after breakfast Clare drove me to Cardiff Central station for a seven thirty train to Bristol. The 'Bristol Flyer' airport bus connection came within five minutes and in a surprisingly uncongested rush hour run, we arrived in twenty minutes. By ten to nine I'd cleared security and was dozing in the departure lounge until the Barcelona flight was called. This took off punctually and arrived five minutes early, giving me enough time to get from the arrival area in Terminal 2 sector B to the RENFE station - a fifteen minute brisk walk. With only hand luggage, there was no delay, and this was essential given my plan to catch a three o'clock from Barcelona Sants station. I still had a twenty minute wait, and the train was packed when it pulled out, making me more than glad I wasn't pulling a case through the crowd when I got off the train.

With some trial and error I found correct the 'book on the day' ticket booths (#25-30). Only 'Preferente' tickets were left (1st class), and rather than wait several hours for a train with 'Turista' seats available, I upgraded my 14 euro ticket for another 20 euros. The total round trip for a trip equivalent to the Bristol-London journey still only cost a total 48 euros. You'd be lucky to get an equivalent second class single trip for that amount of money on British Rail. It was well worth it. The seating is comfortable and not cramped, the trains are smooth and swift, stopping three times before reaching Vinaròs in one hour and fifty minutes. This was a real treat to conclude my long weekend at home.

Michael picked me up at the station and handed back my keys, reporting that Fr Hywel had got away early this morning, and would be in the air on the way back to Cardiff as we spoke. Then I received a text message from Kath to say she'd was on her way home following their flight home from Alicante. We must have been in the air at the same time.

Now all that remains is to get acclimatised again - I had to wear a pullover for half a day when I got back home, while I adjusted to the change in temperature and humidity. It didn't take me long to weary of slate grey skies however, so it's great to be back under blue skies again.

Home for the weekend

I admit that I was a bit nervous about making the journey home for this weekend. I didn't sleep well, and only remembered to set my phone alarm for six at three fifteen in the morning. Fr Hywel conscientiously set his alarm, but forgot to change the time on his phone, so it bleeped then we were driving to the station for the ten past seven train for Barcelona.

It's a RENFE stopping train that diverts from the main line on a 'spur' line to Tortosa, and this adds an hour to the journey. The train leaving an hour later and arriving much at the same time cost nearly twice the price, but the early start was worth the effort to see this other section of the rail network, even if I was nodding off every now and then as we travelled. I noticed that several of the stations in the first part of the route, before the railway begins to follow the coastline beyond L'Ampolla, are well outside towns, and station signs carry the names of neighbouring places served - even Vinarós for that matter, unlike other coastal towns on this route has its station outside the main conurbation. The further north you go, the more the railway hugs the shore-line and holiday resorts and occasionally, where cliffs descend into the sea, even hovers above it.

The further north we travelled, the more travellers got on until the train was packed, standing room only. One inexplicably curious thing I noticed was that for every man there seemed to be ten women on the train. When we came into the Llobregat coastal plain, the airport control tower was visible on the horizon, closer to the sea beyond many square miles of market gardens, with their rich dark brown fertile soil. El Prat airport and the commercial zone area around it were constructed on land reclaimed from less productive salt marshes.

The train runs right into the south eastern corner of the Barcelona to Sants station. I quickly found a ticket machine for the airport shuttle train, with its instructions in Catalan (I couldn't find the language option button). Thanks to the universality of the machine's operating system and its user interface, I had no difficulty getting what I needed, and as luck would have it, boarded an airport train which immediately left for the 17 minute journey to Terminal B.

I was amused during the journey to hear the strains of an accordeon playing 'Besame Mucho', and observe the amused smiles of other passengers, as the busker, an older man, moved down the car soliciting donations of appreciation, oblivious to the fact that everyone has heard it before and can live without it as they strive to chat to travelling companions. It reminded me of walking down Trinity Street in Cardiff, and Geneva tram rides. 'Besame Mucho' seems to be the universal anthem of enterprising unlicensed buskers wherever they are, scraping a living as they dodge enforcement personnel. 

It's a quarter of an hour's walk from the train station to the check-in through sections A and B of Terminal 2, and the last part of the route to section C where EasyJet has its base is badly signposted in comparison to the others. All that was left to do was doze and wait three hours until the flight was called. The flight and connections the other end were just right, and I was home for the weekend by half past five.

 

The flight game

This morning. I nervously negotiated Ryanair's website to check in for my flight to Spain next Tuesday, and download my boarding pass. Over the past twenty years I have got to know EasyJet's website routines quite well. Booking and checking in for flights has become easy - not least because I know what to disregard of the volume of information and promotions conveyed by the web pages.

Ryanair presents the same things in its own way, and adds in a few extra promotions and caveats, so I've had to inspect each page carefully to make sure I don't miss something or end up buying something I don't need. It's not a pleasant experience. But at least now I have my boarding pass, with the essential rules of the flight game printed on it.

Following Kath's recommendation I listened to a couple of episodes of 'Coffee Break Spanish' this afternoon. At the moment I'll use every kind of language input to keep up the learning stimulus, and my enthusiasm for using it to get by in everyday life in the place I'll be living.