It's a pretty early start. My flight is at 9:55 and I don't want to rush at the airport. I’ll get in some lounge time, too. I wake just after six with Dolores wishing me happy birthday.
I don't bother with breakfast. I can get that in the lounge. I order an Uber at 7:00. It takes a little while to come.
The motorway isn't too bad. But there's a long queue in the approach to the drop-off point at Schiphol. We wait more than 5 minutes there.
I pick the wrong check-in desk and have to wait a while as someone makes weird inquiries about a wheelchair. It’s a woman in her early twenties who seems perfectly mobile.
Security is always a doddle with priority. And the queue isn't too bad for passport control. I'm through in 10 minutes and headed for the duty free. Where I get a Jura white oak cask. That being the cheapest single malt.
The lounge is reasonably crowded. But I can still find a table. First destination is the bar for my habitual brace of whiskies. Both doubles. They seem to have changed their policy on doubles. Which is cool.
Next stop is the hot food counter. I'm here at the best time: breakfast. I get an omelette, scrambled egg, mushrooms and two rostis. I know they’re dead good.
I don't have a huge amount of lounge time. About 40 minutes. I need to make the best of it. Which means another three rostis and two more whiskies.
I head to the gate about an hour before departure time. I know it's going to take about 15 minutes to walk there. My flight is at D47: about as far from the lounge as you can get.
Zone 1 starts boarding just about when I arrive. I only need to wait a couple of minutes before it’s my turn.
The flight is pretty full. Despite that boarding is completed in plenty of time. It's just the 10-minute taxi to the polderbaan that delays us.
I get stuck into the films straight away. Starting with The Incredibles 2. Which is pretty good.
I actually finish all the first meal: chicken, green beans and spuds. Along with a red wine, of course.
Next is a long German film with a weird title. I don't bother with English subtitles and can understand it perfectly well. Othe than a brief appearance by someone with a thick Bavarian accent.
About halfway, we're served a sandwich. A not particularly inspiring one. With which I drink a red wine.
My Daughter is a Zombie is a Korean film. For which I do need subtitles. It's not bad. And a change from all the American films. Like The Proposal, which is so fucking predictable. I finish with sitcom The Mick. Which is just about OK.
The last meal is a small pizza. I manage two bites. It isn't very appetising. I only finish the chocolate pudding.
We land about on time. Immigration is quick, as I join the oldie people queue. As always in South America, oldies like me get priority. I pick up my bag and head landside. Where I check in my bag again. So much fun.
Joining the priority queue, there's no waiting at security. And soon I'm airside again.
I have to wait a while before the gate is announced for my flight. I sit in a large food court area. First having bought few miniatures of pisco and a bottle of cola. Which I combine into one of my “special” drinks. Which I proceed to drink. What else would you do with a drink? Especially a “special” one.
When my gate is announced, I troll out there. It's C17. Also, about as far away as you can get. All the seats are taken when I get there. I have to stand around for a while. Before boarding first with my oldie advantage.
Not much to report about the flight. It lasts just an hour. And there's no drinks service.
My bag comes out almost as soon as I get to the carousel. In a jiffy, I'm outside and wondering where my lift is. I message Silvia and she arranges an Uber for me.
The only problem now is working out where the pickup point is. A helpful traffic policeman finds my Uber for me. And off I go.
The ride is so bouncy, that I think the road is cobbled. It isn't.
I'm not taken to the hotel but the location of the judges' reception. Well, not exactly to it. I'm dropped on a square and the driver tells me "It's over there." Pointing vaguely at a restaurant. I message Silvia and she comes to fetch me. The actual location is just around the corner.
Lots of judges are there. Several whom I met in Medellin a couple of weeks ago. a pisco sour is thrust into my hand. And everyone sings Happy Birthday, which is slightly embarrassing.
After another pisco sour, I get an Uber to the hotel with a Columbian judge.
I'm happy to be in my room. It's 22:00. I left home 21 hours go.
After a little Jura and some internet fiddling, I get my head down.


















