It's a late start. My flight is at 21:10. I get a cab at 18:00.
“How much Spanish do you know, Dad?” Alexei asked yesterday.
“Not quite as much as Portuguese.”
“Practically none, then”
“I know some words. Banos. Gracias.Por favor.”
“As I said, practically none”
“It’s all I really need.”
“Old people like you always need to know where the toilets are.”
“Exactly.”
“I was taking the piss, Dad.”
“I know.”
“You’re weird.”
“I know.”
The airport isn't too busy, as it's getting late. It's not long before I'm in the lounge grabbing whisky. and a little something to eat. Though I do drop by the duty free to get some hotel whisky. I’m amazed to be able to afford an Islay whisky: Bunnahabhain
I don't go crazy. As I've a long flight. A very long flight. 18 hours, all told. Too long to turn up smashed. Being deeply cynical about the food I’ll be served on the flight, I get down some food ballast.
The flight is pretty full. Almost every seat taken. Just before we take off, a flight attendant comes along and says something to the woman next to me. Who then disappears off somewhere. I assume she's been upgraded. Just after take-off, she returns. Which is a bummer. Where has she been?
After an hour or so they feed us some slop. It's just about edible. Especially after I sharpen up my wine with some illicit whisky miniatures.
Eating done, I have a good kip. A long kip. Like seven hours. Then I doze for another couple of hours. Which is the best way to handle such a long flight. The first leg to Buenos Aires is 13.5 hours. I don't even watch anything until the last couple of hours. When we're served a breakfast. Of which I just eat the fruit.
We have the fun of deplaning in Buenos Aires. And going through security again. Before hanging around at the gate for a while. Such a joy, early in the morning.
The plane is much emptier on the second leg, with both the seats to my left empty. Which would give me a great view if the Andes. If the wing weren't in the way.
We’re served a warm, savoury pastry. I eat some of it. My stomach is playing up a bit. Just what I need.
As we start to descend into Santiago, there's a cloud layer completely obscuring the city. Or is it smog? It's hard to tell from up here. Let’s hope it’s the former. For the sake of my lungs.
I dodge the long queue for immigration with my oldie priority. Of which I'm very thankful.
All the time gained is lost as I wait ages for my bag to pop out. I thought it was supposed to have priority?
My lift is waiting for me. Thankfully. I had a couple of airport transfers not show up recently. Which was dead fucking annoying.
We rumble along the motorway for a while. Past light industrial units and dusty hills. My hotel is on the other side of town. But tunnels makes the journey relatively short.
Soon I'm checking into my hotel. Unfortunately, my room isn't free. Luckly, Chris arranges for me to use the room of a couple of German judges while they're out exploring the city.
I'm just starting to get nicely relaxed when the phone rings. It's reception telling me that my room is ready. Great!
Despite kipping on the plane, I'm knacked. And spend most of the day dozing on the bed vaguely watching NHK English service.
My stomach isn't feeling great. Nor is my left side, where there’s a throbbing pain. And I can't get properly to sleep. I don’t even feel like drinking any of my duty-free whisky. Oh, the joys of growing old!
Chris is supposed to pick me up at 18:45 to take me to the judges' dinner at Flannery’s Irish Geo Pub. He hasn't turned up by 19:20 and I take an Uber with Mike Hall.
With my stomach turning somersaults, I can't eat or drink much. I manage a token chip and a few mouthfuls of beer before heading back to the hotel. Where I turn in almost immediately. It's only 22:00. I don’t even have a sip of hotel whisky.
With my stomach still feeling shit and the pain in my side, I have a disturbed sleep. Waking multiple times. Bum.
Flannery’s Irish Geo Pub
Encomenderos 379,
Las Condes,
Santiago.
You can fins a video report of my trip here:
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment