Barcelona (Part Two)

Last time you saw me, I was sitting in Ritazza near the security check in East Midlands airport, and now... I'm still there.

There was absolutely no chance of sleep near the cafe, it was manned solely by a boy probably not much older than me, who was obviously not very happy about working the night-shift. He played pumping music throughout the whole night, ignoring being asked to turn it down several times. But I didn't mind, I didn't plan to sleep. (You can check out how people rate airports to sleep in here).
I just felt sorry for the people lying on the seats nearby who definitely did want to sleep. And he kept going for cigarettes outside, leaving the whole cafe to me! If I was the manager there, I would've had his head.

I had had a painful shoulder the night before which had kept me up for several hours so I was armed with Ibuprofen, as I knew it would not be a particularly comfortable night, spending over eight hours sitting until I got to Spain.

Overnight, I amused myself by reading, re-drafting my novel, wandering around to find my check-in desk and the toilets. Surprisingly, this vast array of activities made time pass quite quickly. Maybe it was because I was slightly nervous about checking-in and everything - I've never done this before on my own!!!

I got up to check-in at 4.30am and realised that the queue was huge, the whole length of the hall. Forget that! I went to the toilet and came back, it was half the size. Magical queue-destroying toilets.

There were no problems at check-in, but the woman was very moody - as I worked at Cadbury World, I could have taught her a few things about customer service.
Lesson One - don't look like your about to stab yourself in the head because you can't stand serving one more happy family.

I was bleeped at security but I expected that, I've never gone through one and not set it off. I was violated, then made my way to the departure lounge. Another Ritazza! But it wasn't open. I saw the spot where my family had sat earlier this year when we went to Venice but didn't go there. I wandered up and down through the shops, listening to Gwen Stefani over the radio. There was some interesting stuff, including a stand full of 1,000-pack cigarettes so as I approached I was bombarded with 'Smoking kills', 'Smoking causes lung cancer', 'Smokers die younger' in letters the size of my head.

I stopped for a bacon roll and cup of tea, which I later realised was caffeinated. Damn, no sleep on the plane for me then. At about 6.00am, I checked the screen and I was told to 'Go to Gates 1-5'. There was a massive queue and slowly got massiver and massiver as it wound its way through a cafe (Ritazza again), past Gates 4, 3, 2 and 1 and back towards 5. Great. I joined it at virtually the end, the only people behind me were a group of 19-ish year olds who were talking about plane crashes. Wonderful. The queue was quite fast-moving and I was out in the freezing morning air. A man had stopped at a barrier a few people ahead of me and was waiting. The queue built up behind me until a flight attendant came out and showed him that he had to turn left and follow everyone else.
Lesson Two - don't roll your eyes at customers, they might fall out. Messy.
There was then a long, cold walk to the plane in the dark. I climbed aboard and asked a man in an aisle seat about 6 rows back from the front if either of the two seats next to him were taken. He said no and moved aside for me so I got a window seat. Woo! I like window seats for short plane journeys but for Japan I should probably try to get an aisle seat for my abnormally long legs. Obviously, the ideal situation would be a free row so I could get all the benefits but that's a long shot. I suppose it depends on how many Japanese people came here for New Year or how many British want to go to Japan at the beginning of the year. I would expect Japanese people to flight with JAL (Japan Airlines) though.

No one sat in the middle seat next to me, which I was pleased about.
I like taking off. It's one of the best parts of flying. Although for the last few trips I've taken, I haven't been great on planes. There's something about being trapped in a metal tube with a hundred other people suspended thousands of miles above the ground that makes me a little worried. But it went fine. There was nothing to see once we'd taken off because it was dark outside, and they'd turned the lights off inside, which was lovely as I started to drop off to sleep. But, alas, they turned the lights back on and the sun started to rise, blinding me. But I pulled the window blind down and looked down at some beautiful cloud formations. The snow had left a nice coating on the ground and, while it was still dark, cities that I caught glimpses of looked lovely all lit up. I watched the scenery until we'd passed over the Channel and France, then lay on the tray in front of me (albeit very uncomfortably) and had broken sleep until descent about 90 minutes later.

On the descent, my head was very painful. Not just a popping in the ears, but full on pain in my temples for 20 minutes. I looked down and saw my water bottle scrunching up and thought, that's what my head is trying to do.

We landed, in typical bumpy style, but with no problems (and 10 minutes early) at Girona airport. We stepped out into Spanish atmosphere (not my general experience, usually I step out in 30C, that time I stepped out into about 3C). With my breath condensing in front of me, I hurried into the arrivals lounge. I stood by the carousel for about 15 minutes and my bag was one of the very last ones. It couldn't have happened any other way.

I put the time on my phone forward 1 hour then followed the instructions I had received from Resorthoppa (hotel transfer company). I left the arrivals hall and found a woman and driver with a sign saying 'Resorthoppa'. I told them who I was and it turned out they were only waiting for two other people and I got straight into a taxi and then a mother and daughter (daughter in early 20s) followed me. Within two minutes we were off. That was far too easy, I thought. I checked I had everything with me and then rang home, letting them know I had landed safely.

The route was very windy, it went up into the mountains and followed the track cut sharply into the rock. The view was lovely, forested hills rolling in which ever direction I looked. There were so many examples of crazy Continental driving, not to generalise, but the car was either far too close to the edge, risking plummeting to a rocky death, too close to the middle so the car rocked as other vehicles passed, or just plain speeding and overtaking. The driver was listening to Flaix FM, which seemed to be a 'cool' English-music station and, to my joy, we passed a van full of Bimbo *****!

We pulled up to my hotel, Tossa Beach, and got our bags and everything out.



It looked nice from the front, I made my way up into the reception and stepped in. It's dark and cold!
I enquire at the desk and am told that the entire town is in blackout and they can't let me have my room until it is sorted.

Will the power come back on? Will I get my room? Find out, in Barcelona & Bimbo ***** Part Three, coming soon...