My view for the next couple of days

Another travel day, which was preceded by a jetlagged night. I think I managed to get to sleep just as T,S, & L were milling around to start their week.

T had the good sense to bring me a coffee as a wake up call, and I somehow managed to drag myself out of the fold-out bed, onto the floor, and into the shower. It’s days like this that make me wonder how much travelling I have left in me.

We walked down to the subway at the place de l’Hôtel de Ville, and I made my way back to the airport on Lyon’s exceptionally good “metro”, connecting with the also exceptional Rhônexpress tram at Vaulx-en-Velin La Soie. Got the 10:55 to Frankfurt (which became the 11:30 to Frankfurt).Why Frankfurt? I spent a long time looking for the various flights from Lyon to Málaga and this was the cheapest and quickest; yet, it takes me 700 km in the wrong direction. If I’d flown via Barcelona or Madrid, I’d have had to wait six hours for a connecting flight. What is wrong with airlines? As it happened, the 35-minute delay was shortened to 20 by a bit of nifty flying from the captain; yet after a lengthy deplaning process, I had to speedwalk (no running with my hips) to the furthest possible gate to catch the 13:05 connection to Málaga.

I only just managed it – and after a couple of stroppy words with the fat flight attendant – “Hurry up, you only just made it,” / “It’s not my fault your flights don’t leave or arrive on time, is it?” – I made my way to the seat at the back of the plane, walking the walk of shame past full rows of angrily staring German eyes (is there a worse crime in Germany than to be late?) and found myself in the middle of a school party of German teenagers on their way to a Spanish language camp in Marbella. One of these had ensconced herself in my seat, but I just couldn’t be bothered, so sat in the aisle seat and tried to doze.

I arrived in Spain to 17º C and sun. Unfortunately, my luggage didn’t. This wasn’t all bad, as I was able to get the train to Fuengirola and a bus to Calahonda pretty much unencumbered. Managed to hook up with Jim, a Scottish guy who is looking after the apartment for my aunty, picked up the keys, ran over the road to get some bread and cheese at the laughingly called “Super Estrella” corner store, wandered to the abysmal “Pal’s Bar”, as it was the only place open with a WiFi connection, and started the long process to get my luggage delivered to the apartment in a semi-gated community, in which there is no Internet, where I have a French cell phone that is due to expire – but can’t change SIM cards for a Spanish one because the airline has my French number – and then Skyped home.

A couple of beers. Home. Sleep.