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Well, it may have spent this morning raining, but it’s still hot. We’ve retreated to Albufera, which is like a Portuguese version of Southend, only with more Germans and sea food. We have a very underpowered car, that delights in making fools of ourselves in heavy traffic by stalling at the first available opportunity, a very nice villa, the with two bedrooms the size of my lounge and a lounge the size of my flat, and a lizard on the patio by our pool. Yes, OUR pool, and nobody else’s.

Things have gone well so far. Portuguese seems to be sufficiently similar to Spanish for my tenuous grip on the language they speak in the next country to see me by, and we have a great supermarket just down the road. The internet is proving to be a bit slow, but it has at least allowed us to book our train tickets for the next bit of our journey, and some hotels in Madrid and Barcelona. What it hasn’t done, though, is let me send dad an email to warn him when I’ll be arriving in Avignon so there’s a chance I could be stranded for an afternoon with only Fnac to keep me busy.

Flight over, good. Very smooth, and through clear skies, which gave us great views of France and Spain. Or at least they would have done, had I not slept the whole way, waking up only twice. First, when I burnt my forehead on the hot window blind, and second, when the screaming of engines falling to bits and a 737 nosediving towards the ground made us all jump in our seats in panic.

Turns out it was just the stewardess demonstrating the toy plane on the address system as she did her best to convince the kids they must force their parents to buy them one each.

Dozy mare.

This entry was posted on Monday, August 9th, 2004 at 5:27 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.