After basically taking myself by the ear and forcing myself on a plane out of Vancouver, I sit now in the Lima airport waiting for my plane to Tarapoto. Thanks to fatigue and the side effects of my meds, things are quite tilted and I am fighting to keep track of the where’s, what’s and when’s related to travel in a foreign language. It helps that I am now very familiar with this airport and have the luxury of going with the flow.
My travels from Courtenay have included a night cruise (ferry) to stay a couple of nights with a friend in White Rock, and an overnight in Toronto with Grace at a friends home. The flight to Lima was quite a bumpy ride, made easier by access to all kinds of movies to watch and pass the time.
One very annoying note: it is now Air Canadas’ policy that if you have ordered a special meal you MUST call the day before to confirm the request, otherwise you are SOL. The flight attendant was very brusque about it as she firmly rolled by without producing dinner for me. Luckily a different attendant came by, noticed I was meal-less and brought me a veggie meal from First Class. Full points to her.
The line through customs snaked it’s way back and forth, full to the brim, and it took well over an hour to be processed. Good thing I guess because when I got to the carousel the bags had not yet been delivered. Get cart. Go wait. After I finally got my bag and sailed through inspection, the airport pick up arranged by my hostal had either not made it or had given up waiting. I gave him twenty minutes and then grabbed a cab to town.
The gent behind the counter forwent the check in formalities (thank goodness… it was almost 1am) and showed me to my room. Dirty and dishevelled I swilled some water, set my handy dandy little timer to wake me up in time for breakfast and crashed for the night.
Up for breakfast slightly behind the other guests meant the hot water ran out half way through my shower (ah yes, cold showers… how I had forgotten thee) so sans a hair washing I made my way to the dining room and was treated to hot coffee (ahhhh), fresh juice, nicely presented fresh cantaloupe, and breakfast buns with butter and / or olive paste.
Back to the airport and here I sit waiting for my now flight, delayed for 2 hours now I see. Perfect.
Or, if I turn that frown upside down… I have been given another 2 hours to read? My battery is about to die and there is no electric plug that I can see.
My feelings about this trip have been lacklustre at best, never feeling like it was quite right. Perhaps I am about to be served up what a friend once referred to as “another fu#@king opportunity for personal growth”.
And so it begins…
No comments:
Post a Comment