Travels, 9

A couple of shocks awaited us before the taxi came. First, I looked up the flight status. Because it was not yet midnight, it gave me Monday’s flight, whose status was “CANCELLED”. (We knew about this because we had heard that the plane had to turn back with a fault, but it took me a little while to notice that I had to look at Tuesday’s flight.) Then an email came from Arun telling us that the taxi was booked for 1:00, whereas Ganesh had said 1:30. I was a bit nervous that two taxis might have been booked, so we went to reception just before 1:00 to check out. No problem: at 1:30 there was Ganesh, and there was the taxi, already briefed on exactly where he had to take us.

At the airport we stood in the bag drop queue, which moved much more slowly than the check-in queue; but eventually it was all done. Then through security, through passport control, and our gate was there, nothing to do but wait.

They let us on early since it was clear that Rosemary would need extra time to board, though our seats were near the back (the plane was again a 787). Then nothing to do but endure the flight. As usual, the passenger space was painfully small; because of the lack of room, I managed to spill half a cup of orange juice over myself, and couldn’t mop it all up, so I sat through the flight in damp clothes. It was eleven hours of torture.

It seems that this model of plane is referred to as a “Dreamliner”. Whoever named it may have forgotten that a high proportion of dreams are nightmares.

On the way out, we had flown over Israel and Iran. For some reason, going back we took a more southerly route, over Saudi Arabia and Egypt. Nevertheless, despite being ten minutes late leaving, we arrived at Heathrow nearly half an hour early. Through passport control and baggage reclaim with minimal delay, and we were on the Elizabeth line platform reasonably promptly. A train came in and we got on it, but it didn’t leave for some time. When it did, the rest of the journey was uneventful, and we were home in time to do several loads of laundry and go to the shop before supper.

Fortunately we had given ourselves a whole day in London, so we were able to calmly get organised for the next trip, have a soak in the bath, and catch up on email, before starting out on the Portuguese leg of the journey.

This time we were flying from Gatwick, not the easiest airport to get to. So, after looking up train times, we went on the District line to Blackfriars, where we bought tickets to Gatwick Airport. A couple of previous trains were cancelled, and when ours came in, it was so crowded that I wasn’t sure we would even get on. But we did (just), and were standing in a can of sardines when a girl noticed Rosemary’s stick. She pushed through to where the few seats in the carriage were, and tried to shame people into giving up a seat for her. Eventually two people did get up; they were getting off at London Bridge so I took the other free seat.

At London Bridge, more people got on than off, but it was the other way round at East Croydon, and for the last leg there was room to breathe.

At Gatwick, we found our way out of the station, into the South terminal, and to Zone D, where we tagged our bags and looked for the bag drop. There was one person behind the furthest desk. We went over and saw a small TAP sign at the entrance to the queue, although no TAP flights were indicated. There were a few people in front of us in the queue, but one small group waved us through ahead of them, so we were through very quickly. Then upstairs to the security check and deoartures. A pleasant surprise there; you no longer have to take electronics and liquids out of your carry-on bags. They have finally caught up with the technology which London City Airport has had for several years now. So that was also quick, and we were in departures long before our gate numer was announced.

We had a sandwich and a drink while we waited. Eventually the gate was announced. When we got to it, there was already a long queue. But they let us in to the holding area, and when boarding was announnced, allowed us through with the families and disabled passengers.

Although it was an A320, TAP had configured it so that there was little more room than in the Boeing. But at least it was only a two-hour flight. So I just gritted my teeth and endured it.

At Porto airport, we got to Immigration, and found a huge queue, not as long as some I have seen at Heathrow but not much better. Fortunately, Rosemary’s stick worked its magic again, and we were sent to the Priority queue. However, just as we were about to get to the desk, the crew of the plane came through, and they all felt that crew are prior to disabled passengers, so a slightly longer wait.

Even though we had not been very long, when we got to the baggage hall, we found that all the bags had been delivered and the belt turned off (with a lot of luggage still on it). So I had to walk around with the trolley until I found our bags.

Then out the exit gate, where we found (as promised) Uwe and Paula Kaehler waiting to drive us to our hotel in Aveiro.