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.

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...

Barcelona (Part One)

Last week I went to Barcelona.

It was like an independance trip, I'd done London by myself before and I wanted to fit in a short trip abroad before Japan to give myself some experience of flying and travelling alone. As I found out that I would finish work earlier than I first thought in October, I booked a cheap holiday that night using Last Minute.com. I thought that was the best way to bounce back.

An all-inclusive deal including flights and accommodation to the Costa Brava about 90km north of Barcelona cost me £150. I wanted to do the whole thing for less than £250 as, after all, I am saving to fly half-way across the world for several months next year.

I had arranged the whole thing in October, a month in advance. Unfortunately, I was flying from East Midlands not Birmingham and the flight was at 6.30am on Monday morning. There was no public transport that early so I had to get to the airport late on Sunday evening and spend the night there.

I had booked a coach with National Express to Coventry, then another (90 minutes later) to East Midlands airport.

I left home at about 7.00pm (trains were cancelled so my dad and youngest brother drove me into the centre of Birmingham to Digbeth coach station) to catch a 19.30 coach. And, what a shock, it was snowing! It had been raining all day and when the temperature dropped, it just turned to snow. We all thought it wouldn't settle, it never snows in mid-November! But it became heavier and heavier and our garden was covered in white very quickly. It was very atmospheric waving goodbye to my mum in the snow like a scene from some cheesy movie.

We drove in, the snow pounding the front windscreen - this is incredible! After a long goodbye at the car, I take my suitcase and writer's bag (it's basically a black shoulder bag but it looks writer-ish) into the temporary coach station across the road from Digbeth. They are renovating it at long-last because it's hardly a great advert for Birmingham, if that's what thousands of people see of it when they arrive.

You can see what Digbeth should look like when it's all finished here.

Anyway, I go into this huge freezing cold hall with rows of seats and screens around the walls. And of course, all the coaches are delayed because of the snow. Great. I sit down in front of a screen and watch my coach, 19.30 to Coventry. It's delayed til 19.50, well that's okay. It's about 19.15 and there's a long wait ahead of me anyway, it's just a different environment (albeit a very cold one) to sit in getting bored.

About ten minutes later, I realise that I've forgotten my packed midnight snack that I made for the airport and left it in the car. I ring Dad to check where he is and thankfully, he'd gone to buy some pudding and wasn't too far away. He came back with it (thank you!) and I ran out to collect it. On my way, I saw my coach (the 538 service to Coventry) pull in. Yay! Shouldn't be too long now. I said another goodbye and thank you, then ran back in. I checked the screen and it wasn't boarding yet. I assumed they must be still re-fueling or whatever. I quickly went to the toilet, don't you just love it when you have to pay 20p for the luxury of weeing? I came back out and the screen announced that my coach was delayed again til 20.01. Never mind, maybe there's a problem. I sat back down, realising that the huge clocks they had were the same as the one in my kitchen. Wow. Exciting things to think about.

Then, at about 19.55 the screen changed and said 'Go to Gate A'. Finally, I'm off. I jumped up and ran to Gate A. Hmm, no one there. I looked up at another screen. My coach wasn't on there. Hmmm. That's not good news. I ran back to the Information desk and the guy there said that my coach left 15 minutes ago.

This took a while to sink in. Great. The first leg of my journey and it had already fallen apart. I went to an Express Ticket machine and saw that there were no more coaches to Coventry that night, and no more from Coventry to East Midlands airport after 21.40 - the one I was booked on. I rang Mum to ask for advice. She said she'll ring me back. I considered a taxi or local bus. But there was no guarantee that either of those would get me there in time because of the snow.

Mum rang me back and said that she'll pick me up and take me to Coventry bus station. I'm hopeful again. I sat back down and waited, the man at the desk said that there had been an announcement for my coach. Was I outside collecting my food? In the toilet? Either way, they announced a bus to London at least four times, obviously Coventry just isn't as popular as London. Can't think why...

Mum picked me up at 20.45 and we get driving. Dad looked up directions on the internet and texted them to us.

I felt so bad that I missed the coach, but am adamant that the only thing I did wrong was not double-checking with someone that the screen was telling the truth. But, it's a lesson learned. Always check things with someone!!! Anyway, why did the screen say it was leaving in ten minutes if it left 15 minutes ago. How annoying...

By then, the snow had become a blizzard and we were finding it hard to find the bus station. We had 55 minutes and we were nowhere near Coventry. We followed the directions until the Ring Road, where we realised that we didn't know which direction to take. Left or right? We rang Dad and he said we should take the first option. Left then. Naturally we had gone right but no matter, we found the right road and then signs to the bus station.

We were both so relieved to have made it on time. I went in to ask where the National Express coaches arrive and depart and... oh my god, that place was hell. Much worse than Digbeth. Digbeth coach station is the Ritz compared to Coventry's so-called 'Pool Meadow'. If you can avoid it, definitely steer clear. Shudder...

I asked a staff member and he told me where to go. As I was asking, some random Chav shoved me from behind and then walked away. The people were as nice as the place!

Mum came in with my bags (and food!) and waited with me. Then, 10 minutes late, which I think I'll forgive, the coach arrived. I was so relieved and said a second goodbye to Mum before clambering aboard. It was warm! WARM! It was easily the most comfortable coach I've ever been on. And it was very empty. It arrived at EMA 20 minutes late but I didn't care in the slightest, it was so comfortable.

I walked into the airport and found all the benches full of sleeping travellers. I settled into Ritazza near the security check with a large Decaff (just in case) Cappuccino and started reading.

It was going to be a looong night...