around the world in 12 hours
In Madrid airport. Everything going swimmingly so far. At the café in the airport I practise my Spanish. Un bocadillo con queso, dos zumo de naranjas y dos té con leche, por favor. The reply? Twelve euros, thank you. Must have English stamped on my forehead. The main cultural difference so far appears to be the preponderance of smallish, rotund, middle aged men eating baguettes stuffed with half a dead cow, or pig. However, at the café there was a bocadillo vegetal on offer. It looked like it had Heinz Sandwich Spread in it. Anyway, it’s kind of dull here in transit land. Only 12 hours to go! If there are no more entries in this blog it will be because I’ve got deep vein thrombosis in my fingers.
Later… Now we’re on the plane. The man behind was putting his case in the overhead locker. It wouldn’t quite fit. His partner suggested he turned it the other way. It worked. He said: Perfecto! As I was passing, I couldn’t help echo him. Perfecto! It’s such a nice word. He looked at me as if I had insulted him. I smiled and patted him on the arm. Now he has to spend the entire journey with a weirdo in the seat in front, and I have to worry about offending the man behind me. Again.
Well, this entry is a work deflection activity. I’ve got the laptop out to finish off editing some articles for Interact. Interact is CIIR’s magazine. If you have no idea what it is, have a look on CIIR’s website, www.ciir.org. You will find that Interact is expertly edited.
The steward has just come past with some Spanish newspapers. This enabled me to say to her, in Spanish, one world and one country, please. (The newspapers are called El Mundo and El Pais.) It’s a nice thought: one world and one country. It’ll never catch on, though.
By the way, we received some advice from our work colleague Liz about travelling with Iberia. First of all, she said don’t bother going to check in at Heathrow at 5.30am (the scheduled time) because Iberia never bother to come to the check in desks before 6.00. We arrived at 5.30 and the desks were in full flow, queues of people already checked in. Next tip: Iberia overbooks so make sure you get on the plane in Madrid, don’t assume you will have a seat! We were at the back of the queue, so some slight anxiety, but again, no problem. Iberia will starve you, she said, so take your own sandwiches. Hot meal within half an hour of take-off… But then the afternoon/evening stretched out, in that timeless intercontinental airplane zone where you’re knackered and bloated and don’t care what time it is, you just want to get to where you’re going… But around evening meal time, we thought, maybe Liz’s advice is coming good! Because we started to get peckish, and no sign of any more food. Suddenly, there was a stampede for the stewards’ section of the plane, and people started coming back down the aisle clutching sandwiches. Graham went and scored us some vegetarian sandwiches: coleslaw and white air bread. You weren’t sure if you were actually eating or chewing on a cloud, but it was better than nothing. Then… a couple of hours later… another meal! This whole episode casts a shadow on all the advice we had from Liz. What was the other thing she said? Oh yes, when you get to Cusco run up and down some stairs, because it helps you acclimatise to the altitude.
So, in the middle of the night – although incredibly it was still light outside the plane! How does that one work? – we finally arrived in Lima. Outside the window, barren brown crumpled hills, then a flatland of brick houses, all apparently unfinished. At least, none of them had roofs; seemingly they were all works in progress. Liz told us it never really rains in Lima. Perhaps that’s why… Lima international airport is incredibly swish. In fact I think the airport was only finished minutes before our arrival, and opened in our honour. Makes Heathrow look like the third world slum that it is…
Met by Edwin, the CIIR driver, who took us out to the car. I was expecting hordes of urchins grabbing at my sleeve but it was all very orderly, although in the car next to us in the car park – with a sticker on the door saying ‘Taxi Good’ – a youth stared expressionlessly at us, before opening his door and pouring a bottle of water over his head. True! Apparently he was styling his hair, set for a big night at the airport car park, perhaps.
Lima is just big and sprawling, feels despite all the neon signs to be cold and grim. Well, maybe jetlag and global disorientation didn’t help. Lots of minibuses and people walking. Minutes until first man spotted urinating against a tree: one. Minutes until first traffic impasse at junction: two. Minutes until first McDonalds, Blockbuster Video and Plastic Surgery Clinic: three. Minutes until first old lady in wheelchair selling sweets at traffic lights: four.
Edwin drove us to the CIIR office cum flat. Our names are on the doors of two of the bedrooms, which will be useful if either of us gets up in the night for a pee and forgets who we are. Dina, the CIIR country representative for Peru, arrived shortly after and ran through our itinerary, which starts at 8.00am tomorrow. Graham wore the glazed expression of a man who can’t work out why his body tells him it’s 2 in the morning and everyone is behaving like it’s 8 at night. Or at least I think he did. I couldn’t really tell because I was asleep under the table. Bring on tomorrow! Or is it today already?
Later… Now we’re on the plane. The man behind was putting his case in the overhead locker. It wouldn’t quite fit. His partner suggested he turned it the other way. It worked. He said: Perfecto! As I was passing, I couldn’t help echo him. Perfecto! It’s such a nice word. He looked at me as if I had insulted him. I smiled and patted him on the arm. Now he has to spend the entire journey with a weirdo in the seat in front, and I have to worry about offending the man behind me. Again.
Well, this entry is a work deflection activity. I’ve got the laptop out to finish off editing some articles for Interact. Interact is CIIR’s magazine. If you have no idea what it is, have a look on CIIR’s website, www.ciir.org. You will find that Interact is expertly edited.
The steward has just come past with some Spanish newspapers. This enabled me to say to her, in Spanish, one world and one country, please. (The newspapers are called El Mundo and El Pais.) It’s a nice thought: one world and one country. It’ll never catch on, though.
By the way, we received some advice from our work colleague Liz about travelling with Iberia. First of all, she said don’t bother going to check in at Heathrow at 5.30am (the scheduled time) because Iberia never bother to come to the check in desks before 6.00. We arrived at 5.30 and the desks were in full flow, queues of people already checked in. Next tip: Iberia overbooks so make sure you get on the plane in Madrid, don’t assume you will have a seat! We were at the back of the queue, so some slight anxiety, but again, no problem. Iberia will starve you, she said, so take your own sandwiches. Hot meal within half an hour of take-off… But then the afternoon/evening stretched out, in that timeless intercontinental airplane zone where you’re knackered and bloated and don’t care what time it is, you just want to get to where you’re going… But around evening meal time, we thought, maybe Liz’s advice is coming good! Because we started to get peckish, and no sign of any more food. Suddenly, there was a stampede for the stewards’ section of the plane, and people started coming back down the aisle clutching sandwiches. Graham went and scored us some vegetarian sandwiches: coleslaw and white air bread. You weren’t sure if you were actually eating or chewing on a cloud, but it was better than nothing. Then… a couple of hours later… another meal! This whole episode casts a shadow on all the advice we had from Liz. What was the other thing she said? Oh yes, when you get to Cusco run up and down some stairs, because it helps you acclimatise to the altitude.
So, in the middle of the night – although incredibly it was still light outside the plane! How does that one work? – we finally arrived in Lima. Outside the window, barren brown crumpled hills, then a flatland of brick houses, all apparently unfinished. At least, none of them had roofs; seemingly they were all works in progress. Liz told us it never really rains in Lima. Perhaps that’s why… Lima international airport is incredibly swish. In fact I think the airport was only finished minutes before our arrival, and opened in our honour. Makes Heathrow look like the third world slum that it is…
Met by Edwin, the CIIR driver, who took us out to the car. I was expecting hordes of urchins grabbing at my sleeve but it was all very orderly, although in the car next to us in the car park – with a sticker on the door saying ‘Taxi Good’ – a youth stared expressionlessly at us, before opening his door and pouring a bottle of water over his head. True! Apparently he was styling his hair, set for a big night at the airport car park, perhaps.
Lima is just big and sprawling, feels despite all the neon signs to be cold and grim. Well, maybe jetlag and global disorientation didn’t help. Lots of minibuses and people walking. Minutes until first man spotted urinating against a tree: one. Minutes until first traffic impasse at junction: two. Minutes until first McDonalds, Blockbuster Video and Plastic Surgery Clinic: three. Minutes until first old lady in wheelchair selling sweets at traffic lights: four.
Edwin drove us to the CIIR office cum flat. Our names are on the doors of two of the bedrooms, which will be useful if either of us gets up in the night for a pee and forgets who we are. Dina, the CIIR country representative for Peru, arrived shortly after and ran through our itinerary, which starts at 8.00am tomorrow. Graham wore the glazed expression of a man who can’t work out why his body tells him it’s 2 in the morning and everyone is behaving like it’s 8 at night. Or at least I think he did. I couldn’t really tell because I was asleep under the table. Bring on tomorrow! Or is it today already?
posted by Sol Oyuela at 6:08 AM
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