Barcelona (Part Five)

Well, it's finally here. The final episode of my trip to Barcelona.

I was woken several times during the night, particularly at 5.45 when someone was watching loud TV next door. My alarm went off at 8.30 and I got up at 8.40, after snoozing for a while. I then discovered that if all the lights are off, then all electricity in the room is off so my phone hadn't been charging all night and now had low battery. Great. I'm going home with no phone. I had egg, bacon, BAKED beans, toast (mmm), tea and juice (gonna need to lose weight soon), picked up my packed lunch and said goodbye to the mother and daughter I shared a transfer with when I first arrived. Thank you for keeping me company!

I then discovered that the reason there was no music last night was that when I was in Barcelona the previous day, a father and son had been killed while posing for a photograph at Tossa beach. The family had been staying at the hotel. It was a very sad event. I later heard the full story on GMTV morning news. You can read the full story here which corrects what I was told at the hotel.

I had noticed on the day when I walked round Tossa de Mar that the waves seemed extremely strong around the beach. I am very sorry for the family's loss.

I went back to my room and packed, checking items against my original list as they went into my bag. Hoping I had everything, I left the room and returned my keycard at Reception, five minutes before check-out at 10.

I walked back to the shop where I bought postcards and my camera and browsed for a little while. I went back to the hotel and rang Resorthoppa to confirm the pick-up time and place. It then began to rain. It had been forecast to rain every day I'd been there but it had held off until I left. Obviously Spain was sad to see me go.

I sat and waited, praying that everything went okay to get me back home. I went outside and stood under the hotel's canopy at 10.55, waiting for the taxi transfer. About 2 minutes later, a taxi pulled up and a man came out and shouted 'Girona Airport', mainly to me. I nodded and ran forward, putting my suitcase in the boot.

We were off, and I double-checked that, a) we were going to Girona airport, b) we'd get there in time for my flight, and c) I wasn't paying him! He muttered something about not being able to control the meter.

I kept my eyes peeled for roadsigns along the way as soon as I realised I didn't recognise the road, I ain't being kidnapped!

But I arrived at the airport at 11.40. I checked my bags, passport and flight details, and then thanked the driver. I made a note of the gate number and sat down, watching the clock, and my bags.

The queue for checking-in was huge, it spanned the length of the airport. Forget that, I thought, no magic queue-destroying toilets here. So I sat and waited for the queue to dwindle before joining it a few people behind the desk. At 12.50, I checked-in and went into the departure lounge. I bought some food for the flight and saw a big queue already at Gate 8, and as that one actually determined the seat I got on the plane, I joined it straight away. And I'm glad I did, as soon that queue was the length of the departure lounge. I waited for 20 minutes and then got through. I went round to the back entrance of the plane as there was a big queue for the front and there was no one round at the back. Isn't the public smart? I turned my mobile off and got a window seat. This time, two people sat next to me but I didn't mind. I wasn't in the middle seat.

The pilot announced that there might be turbulence over France, great, I LOVE turbulence. The plane left on time and I looked down at the dramatic landscape, Spain is much more mountainous that I thought.

The seatbelt sign went off and I ate my food. I found that if you relax and read or eat then the flight is much more comfortable. Usually I just sit there stessing about claustrophobia etc but I was fine going back. Another lesson learned. The Pyranees looked lovely, covered in snow. The air clouded up until we reached France, and then there was no turbulence.

Well, I thought, I've broken my last food links to Tossa Beach, unless I vomit up breakfast, or something equally as bad, like last night's dinner.

The descent started at 14.30, thankfully my head wasn't as painful that time. I saw my bottle of water crumple up under the pressure change and thought, that's what my head is trying to do.

We landed 25 minutes early at 15.00, which is good. I found that I didn't particularly like RyanAir, apparently they're the worst airline environmentally, I read that somewhere. But this article doesn't improve my thoughts on that airline. I might even avoid flying with them in the future, despite arriving early on both journeys.

There was a huge queue at Passport Control but it was quite fast moving. I came out to the carousel and the very first bag I saw was mine, I ran to catch it before it disappeared and left the airport quickly. How painless was that! I hoped that my luck would continue. I went to the toilet (nothing I can miss now) and then went outside to the Derby bus stop. Hmm... there's just a dot where it should say how long til the next bus. I asked at the Information desk and they said it should arrive any minute. A few minutes later, the screen changed and said Derby - 30 mins. But the bus actually arrived 8 minutes later. I bought a ticket to Derby train station (£2.80). The bus got very crowded but I had a seat. The driver seemed very friendly, no bus driver in Birmingham is as friendly as that.

There was a nice woman behind me helping a foreign family out, who were going to the train station too. I think I heard the bus driver call her Dot. But she asked the driver to let the family know when they were at the station, which he did do. I bought a ticket to my closest station for £10, back to the land of extortion. Two minutes wait and then a train to Cardiff Central, next stop B'ham New Street arrived. My luck continued.

Forty minutes later, at 17.30, I got to Birmingham New Street and there was a 4 minute wait for the next train to my house. It all worked well in the end.

I got home at 18.10, with a sausage casserole and my family waiting for me.

It was a great trip, and I did it all for under £230, I had just over 1 Euro left in change. I was so glad to be home after a successful holiday.