I am writing this blog post on the airplane back to Spain, half an hour into the flight where we should just about be crossing the channel (but I can’t see that because of the clouds) to be able to publish it when I land, aware that I said I would write on Monday which I wasn’t able to do. I’ve spent the weekend back in England to surprise my mum for her birthday, in the company of our new puppy and a roast dinner, which if I’m honest is one of the few things that I have been missing in Spain. I know that they are relatively easy to make but just the thought of spending that much time and effort to make a meal puts me off straight away, and anyway, why would I want to eat a roast dinner when I could make a Paella Valenciana or a Fideuà. Spanish food is much more appealing when it is still at least 25 degrees every day.
It was nice to be back, if only briefly, but my God it was freezing! Having spent the last three months in lovely warm temperatures, apart from a few days when I returned to England in September, it was definitely a shock to the system to be plunged into single digit thermometer readings again…
I arrived on Saturday evening, and surprise surprise it was raining, which is definitely my least favourite time of the day! It wasn’t even proper rain, just that incessant, annoying drizzle typical of this time of the year. That made for a bumpy landing and the feeling that we weren’t going to slow down in time for the end of the runway, but I managed to get off the airplane unscathed.
We taxied to the airplane’s stand which was right in front of the arrivals building. So I was astonished to find that I needed to get off the plane and onto as bus to take us the 20 metres between the plane and the terminal. As soon as I got off the plane I was shivering and, being in seat 6f (which a group of pensioners had decided to change from 6a without asking me) I was stood on the bus for ages waiting for the rest of the plane to make its way on. From there we were driven AWAY from the terminal… the bus dropped us off at a covered walkway from where instead of walking 20m we had to walk 300m. In the cold rain.
On entering the terminal, we were faced with the typical passport control queue. I will never understand why you have to go through the electronic gates, I’m pretty sure they just make up whether you look like your photo or whether to not work. The queue always seems to go slowly through these, slow enough even for an English person to get fed up. Behind me I heard a Spanish couple complaining, so, mustering my best Spanish accent I attempted to join in their rant. After giving me an odd look, they let me join in, so I guess they worked out I was English after all and then just didn’t care. I felt rather sorry for them when, on seeing them pull out their DNI (Spanish ID card) near the front of the queue, I had to tell them that they were in the wrong queue and that they had to start all over again on the other side of the room.
After finally getting through, all I had to do was collect my bag (which Ryanair decided to take off of me even though it fit perfectly in the measuring thingy) and proceed to the nearest café to buy a coffee and wait for my parents to arrive.
Finally reunited with my parents, plus a very excitable puppy who wouldn’t stop licking my ears and eating my hair it was back to Warwick to pick up my sister and off to the park to tire the dog out.
The day after we went to a national park about twenty minutes away before going to a pub for a proper Sunday lunch. Roast beef has never tasted so good! Then back home for a quick siesta and then an afternoon playing board and card games!
The day after was an early start, heading out to Hannah’s university where I would be sleeping the night to be able to get to East Midlands airport the day after for my flight back to Valencia. A night in the pub followed before another busy day travelling.
And so here I am, now somewhere over France, looking out over the tops of a thousand clouds about 1 and ¾ hours away from València airport. (PS, little did I know but soon after finishing writing this I would spend the rest of the flight acting as a translator for my two row mates, an old Spanish guy and an art teacher from Liverpool..) Tomorrow will be another day teaching in the school where in all honesty it is starting to get easier and a lot more fun! No day is ever the same, or predictable but I am now really enjoying it! Let’s hope that continues…
139 days until Falles