Right. It's December 27th, and I'm back in the office. Christmas break? I've got to say it was a little too short. Of course, my life is right on scale with those little inflatable bouncy rooms that everyone seems to be renting for their kids' birthday parties these days.
After a nice paella with Fran's family on Christmas afternoon, I picked up a few things at casa Tomas Trenor, then headed back to my apartment, threw a few more things in a bag, then jumped on a metro to meet a couple of friends for a Christmas evening drink. I wasn't feeling too comfortable with my packing situation; surely it would be a minor miracle to get everything stuffed into two bags and a backpack, but I figured I would calm myself down a bit with a couple of pints in town.
I'd already hung out with Jose Miguel, but was on the hook for seeing his sister Gemma. Fortunately, Gemma, another friend Maria and I managed to have a few pints at Sherlock Holmes pub, which is a few minutes walk from Finnegan's (which was closed for Christmas).
In the past few years, my Christmas night has been spent with Lynne and Fran, usually watching a movie and being lazy around the house. This year was a bit different, since I only stayed with them on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Thus, they were free to lounge around by themselves without me plunking about.
Pints with Gemma and Maria was just the ticket. You never know who will be out and about on Christmas night, but the crowd was small in Sherlock Holmes, and festive. I was flattered that both Gemma and Maria complemented me on my Spanish; I was a regular chatterbox. We cut the evening short, however, as both of them had to work on the 26th.
This actually suited me fine, as I managed to finish most of my creative packing before midnight.
Boxing Day morning came all too quickly, and I ran about the apartment trying to clean up as best I could: this was my final day in the Alboraya apartment. I wasn't too motivated, but was short on time. Dang, isn't that the story of my life right now?
Lynne, Fran, and Daniel were to come by around 10 to bid farewells, collect the keys, and put me in a taxi to the airport. Around 10.45 without their arrival, I was getting antsy, smoking a pocketful of ciggy outside on the street. With the long lines in airports these days, even smaller sized airports, I wanted to be sure I had sufficient time to check in and all that. I was already concerned that the "your luggage is too damn heavy" police would give me trouble at the airport, and I'd be forced to either pay extra for transport, or worse, discard items that I wanted to take with me to Germany. OK, the book 501 Spanish Verbs may not seem like the most needed item for an American living in Germany, but it's a close friend to me.
At 11am, I saw Fran's car pull around the corner. Fran and I said a quick goodbye, then he left to attend a mass in memory of his father, who passed away several years ago. Lynne and Daniel stayed with me to inspect the apartment; Lynne would have to bat clean-up here, getting a few leftovers back to her place, returning the keys to the casera, etc. I'm very thankful for her help.
From there, we trudged down the street to a little café next to a taxi stand, and had one last cortado before I headed for the airport. As usual, I don't like goodbyes, nor do I like having all my stuff in various hotels around Europe. But, I needed to get to the airport. A big hug from sis helped, and Daniel, who wasn't feeling very friendly, finally came around and gave me a little hug and kiss of his own. I missed them before I even got in the cab.
I chatted with the cab driver on the way to the airport, and was flattered for the umpteenth time when he said he was impressed with my ability in Spanish. We talked about red meat, overweight Americans, and Mozart (only in Valencia, eh?) en route, and got to the airport about an hour and a half before my flight was to leave.
Check-in was a breeze, so I had time for another café and some smokes, then took the prop-job to Madrid, where I discovered that my ticket was too restricted to allow for any schedule changes in the flight to Frankfurt. Thus, I had about five hours to kill in Terminal 4 of Barajas.
I sat down at an empty bank of seats, and just sort of reflected a moment, then opened up a book my sister gave me to read, The Labyrinth. It was pretty engrossing, and I absolutely love to read, so I was actually pretty content. From time to time, I ate a couple of Christmas cookies from the tray that Lynne had prepared for me. I had almost left them behind on the account of lack of space factor, but am so very glad that I didn't. My sister still has a touch for whipping up toll house, decorated cookies, truffas, and I was set. In short, I made the most of my Boxing Day, though I would have gladly preferred to be somewhere other than the airport.
Our flight left on time from Frankfurt around 8pm, and we landed 2 and half hours later. My luggage arrived, I grabbed a cab, and 50 euros later was walking in the front door of my hotel, saying hello to my buddy Herr Fuhr, who's been watching out for me during my stay. We exchanged pleasantries (I really thought I'd turn 40 or 50 years old before using the word pleasantries), then I headed upstairs to catch a bit of sleep.
It's a grey day here on the 27th, and I'm catching up on all the emails from the past week. Fortunately a lot of people are out on holiday, so it's quiet. However, it is -1 degree right now. That's fucking cold. No snow at the moment, but it could come at any time. Can't wait til I can get an apartment and figure out how to use public transportation. Trudging three blocks through the slush to the U-Bahn stop just sounds neat.
thanks for all the updates, well wishes, and festive greetings.
keep the faith
bryan
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