Is there a sadder sight than five or six passengers hanging around a recently emptied baggage carousel where the passing of time is marked by the continuing circuit of a solitary dilapidated bag belonging to none of them. Being the most realistic of the disappointed travellers gathered thus, I pushed off to the lost luggage desk. The service was South East Asian. They look as if they don’t care. They look as if there is no system. They look as if this situation has never before happened. But there are wheels within wheels, and, after a few questions, you are handed a handwritten scrap of paper bearing an unfeasibly long reference number and sent on your way. Continue reading “Cambodia 1: Siem Reap for us. Luggage in Bangkok”
To make it a little easier to get around here are all the links to the posts so far:
- Trip to Bangkok, Hanoi, Hoi An, Hue, Hong Kong 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
- Camino de Santiago. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
- Spain in General 1 2
- Seville Feria de Abril 1 2
- Cambodia and Southern Vietnam 1 2
- US Cities New Orleans, Boston, 1 2
- Spain: Santander 1
- Italy: Naples 1 2 3
- Cambodia, Vietnam 1 2
- Canaries Tenerife 1 2
- Spain Girona 1 2
Monday morning. The Little Nurse went to the lobby for coffee. She came back empty handed defeated by the coffee machine. These things are our life long adversaries. We have had trouble with these ridiculous machines all over the world. We have ruined lobby carpets, taken the polish off tables and scalded other guests. In Lisbon, every morning for a week, a six year old got coffee for us. I was tempted to kidnap him he was so useful. I asked her to describe the machine. It was one of those a little pellet of coffee needs to be inserted into. Somewhere. No one knows where. Except George Clooney. I asked her if Clooney was hanging around the lobby but she didn’t think so. I thought that was a bit of a long shot before I asked but I needed coffee. She pushed off to the bar next door and soon returned with the good stuff. One cup was enough to get me in and out of the lift, through the front door and into the bar next door for the second hit. Continue reading “Feria de Abril Seville 2:”
After a night in Malaga we caught the 10.30 train to Seville. It got in an hour late. We had about a half hour walk to the hotel. We swapped wheelie cases because the Little Nurse was struggling with hers. Too heavy she said. In reality one of the wheels was jammed. It might as well have been an anchor. Dragging it for half an hour killed the case completely so a new one would be obtained later. Continue reading “Feria de Abril Seville 1:”
I left Nathan to his breakfast. Although mine was in the price of the accom it was too early and the buffet did not excite me, so I gave it a swerve. I set away before sunrise. In the twilight. Funny word twilight. Good name for a car. The Toyota Twilight. This is what the Camino does to you when you walk alone. Makes you think. Well it does to me anyway. I don’t ponder the meaning of life or search for the ‘truth’. Nothing too profound. I’m much more likely to wonder who was the guy who first ate a banana and what made him do it. I’m as shallow as a kids paddling pool. Continue reading “Camino 9: Sunrise and The Devil Dogs of El Acerbo”
Continuing my slant on the idiosyncracies of Spanish life.
The opposite of Multi Tasking is, naturally enough, Single Tasking and that’s the way they roll in Spain. A Spanish man never does more than one thing at a time. In fact major tasks like buying a stamp or going for a haircut could very well be the only accomplishment in a whole day. A major task, like filling up with petrol, Continue reading “Life in Spain 2: Car Parking, Extreme Single Tasking and Random Windows.”
The Don Suero Hotel Leon, my home for the last two nights is right on the Camino route, so I sat outside with my morning coffee watching dozens of pilgrims continuing on their way. As I had taken the extra day in Leon I didn’t recognise many of them. People I had met earlier had mostly rolled out the day before. Continue reading “Camino 8: Ghost Town.”
The Spanish do things differently. Here’s a few things I’ve noticed about the idiosyncrasies of Spanish life.
Almost all Spanish Street Names are named after people. Not things or places. There is no Spanish equivalent of Acacia Avenue or Thames Road. It’s all people. They start off with the great and the good. Kings are definitely top of the list. Continue reading “Life in Spain 1: Waiters, what can you do?”
Only one snorer in my room of six last night. Me. Or so a scowly German woman told me over breakfast.
Well. ‘Good morning to you too’ I said.
Even at home I routinely go to bed wired to my Ipod. That along with some wine and beer has made snoring and other erm… noises in the albergues a non issue for me. Listen if you want to stay in albergues that’s the way it is. Stop complaining and get some earplugs. Or an Ipod.
I came across the scowly woman later on that same day and she sped away from me. Needlessly, as I had stopped snoring by then. No-one snores when they are awake and walking along. She should have known that. Continue reading “Camino 7: Leon, The Lost Day and The Detroit Rule”
It was raining when I set off this morning. Unnecessary I thought. John the Dublin lawyer from last night caught up with me. He was really moving which spurred me on in the rain. We went quickly through the next 3 villages and soon arrived in Sagahun over 19 klicks from Ledigos. John was on a mission and we covered it in a little over 3 hours. Had it been a race we would have come a close second and third to olympian Haile Gebrselassie, had he been on the Camino instead of winning the Berlin Marathon. Continue reading “Camino 6: Unnecessary Weather and the Headmistress of Mansilla.”