"Unfortunately we are running short of bacon baguettes..."

November 5, 2009

Our last day. Another award-winning breakfast (except there wasn't enough jam) at the Cafe Central opposite our apartment. We were among the first customers, and it was kind of chilly but refreshing to sit at an outside table as a morning light rain evaporated off from the now sunny street. The birds welcomed the moisture, as did the thirsty stray cats. My wife finished writing up her diary.




I took a few moody snaps of the cafe and the town winding down slowly for the winter, plus a couple of the tile work on our hotel facade and that of the adjacent building.






Breakfast over, we dragged our luggage round the bend behind the church and up the short hill to where we had parked our car last night to avoid an early-morning fine. I suppose we were feeling rather sorry that today's weather was looking even better than the day before, since we were leaving Spain. The drive was fast, and we had tons of time, but I managed to introduce a note of tension by insisting on stopping every ten minutes to take yet another photograph of the stunning views from up high looking down to Gibraltar and the Straits towards Morocco.



I'm glad I did, because the one I took of the donkey chomping away by the side of the motorway (at the beginning of a hiking trail named "El Huerte" that leads into the Alcornocales Regional Park) with Gibraltar and the sea as a backdrop (up top of this page) is, I think, not bad at all.



Except for a closure of the motorway for about 20 kms at one point, which meant a detour along the scenic but slower coastal road, the journey was uneventful. When we reached the streets of the small town near the airport we navigated to the car hire place by piecing together our snapshot memories of buildings and perspectives from last time. Aren't the workings of human memory baffling? You can remember a particular but not otherwise special tree by the side of a busy road, but could not pull that memory out of your head in advance of seeing it.

Malagacarhire.com have things working like clockwork with the handover, and a courtesy bus was there almost too quickly. I mean, I didn't even have time to fuss and fret around before we were loaded into the bus and o our way to the airport.

The check-in at Malaga Airport was overly long, with just two measly counters open to process about 200 tourists and their luggage, but it all went smoothly. Well, smoothly until we had been processed through security, and gone upstairs for coffee, to buy water, to try to find a free wifi internet connection (tip: forget it) - and happened to glance at the departures screen. Typical - only after we'd gone through into the captivity of the area beyond the security check did the airline choose to display the rather annoying news that our flight was delayed by just short of 3 hours. And as such we would be obliged to spend a ton of money in the shops. So we fell into obedient line, my wife went to get water, juices, coffee and I was about to buy, grrrr, an internet access card.

But just as our survival plan had entered the implementation stage imagine our surprise, and that of 200 other passengers, when we suddenly heard a curt announcement over the tannoy: "Last call for passengers flying Scum Airlines to Birmingham" with the emphasis rudely on the word "last" - as if they were fed-up having to tell us all to get our skates on. Cheek.

Pandemonium broke out, with people breaking into a run to make it to the gate before the plane doors slammed in their faces, forcing them to spend another day in paradise. We rushed to the shop to buy the water supply for the flight, but were held up by a British couple pretending that the euro was a very difficult currency to understand, counting out each coin and looking for praise as they laboriously did so from the lady at the till. So instead of the dignified fast walk I had planned as a protest at being mucked around by the airline we had to run like the clappers to the boarding gate. I mean, had the airline suddenly found a plane laying around? Actually, it turned out that it wasn't the airline's fault - the airport staff had posted the departure time up wrongly. I think some passengers will have missed the flight as they had probably gone straight into fall-asleep mode in a seat somewhere.

On board the stewardess tells us she is selling "hot food and hot drinks for 5 pounds". I laughed when she listed in minute detail all the fatty, greasy crap food that they unfortunately didn't have, or only limited supplies of, such as bacon baguettes and BLT (bacon, lettuce and tomato) chilled sandwiches. Are they trying to generate a sense of "must have before they run out" panic buying among those on board? "Fortunately", her voice grated on, "we do have large stocks of alcohol on board." Maybe the captain too was enjoying a sundowner up in the cockpit. Anything is possible.

My intention was to wait until the food trolley stops at our row and the chap asks if we would like a supposedly scarce bacon baguette. At which point I would hold up my own home-made pan integral cheese roll as if to say "I brought my own. I don't want to give you my money. You are nice but your colleague on the flight here scolded me publicly, and this is the cost you and your children and grandchildren, and your airline, must bear", followed by a cackling evil laugh.

But instead I have to admit my shame: the flight attendant was so unfailingly and naturally pleasant and helpful that I too bought coffee from him. I was just hoping, however remotely the chance, that it would turn out to be good quality coffee - like you get on most other airlines. I looked up pathetically at the attendant as he poured hot water into the paper cup, and asked "Is it instant coffee?" "Oh yes", he replied proudly. "Shite", I thought, and handed over the ransom money. I'm looking at the cup design from Kenco - all soft golds and reds and coffee plantations and the words "Rich Roast" emblazoned in gold letters on the side above a setting sun, and smaller print stating "including high quality Arabica beans". Fooled again.



Walking up the garden path to our front door I was highly pleased to find my slightly offish cat Yoshka looking with mild interest at us through the front room window. Every little show of affection on her part keeps me hooked.



My verdict on our trip: yes, it was one of our best to date, and if Spain ever gets its water supplies sorted out and learns to cook food that is not fried and greasy I wouldn't mind trying to live there. Won't that be nice for them?


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