My
daughter's friend nearly missed her train to Madrid early this
morning. This was because there was no indication we needed platform
2 and so we spent five minutes trying to find her carriage on
platform 1, where the night train from Madrid was parked. The woman
at the ticket counter appeared astonished I needed to ask her where
the 8.45 train was.
But,
anyway, driving back home at this early hour, I did a double take at
the surreal sight of a blind woman walking along the pavement
wielding a white cane and dressed entirely in medieval garb. And then
I remembered we have the big Feira Franca fiesta today.
Passing the Alameda, I was impressed to see dozens of folk working on
setting up their tables/stalls at the equivalent of 6.45am in other
countries.
Talking
of travel problems . . . I might have already said that Vigo
airport's parking arrangements could well be the most user-unfriendly
in the world. Firstly, if you go where you used to go to drop
off/pick up someone, you end up against a sign that says Taxis and
Car Hire Returns Only. And have to turn back. Secondly if you try
to get to the terminal via the multi-level car park and take what
looks like an access road up to the dropping-off point, you
eventually end up back where you started on the main road. Thirdly,
if you do it the only way possible and go via the car park itself,
you have to climb at least three floors before you get to the airport
level. Then, when you've had half an hour or more to get over the
irritation all this causes, you have to face the obstacle course of
getting out of the car park. The first problem is that the
only pay machines are located on the top floor, round the corner from
the entrance and the lifts. Where you can't see them. If you assume
there's one on the floor where your car is, you have to return to the
top floor to pay. Using the world's slowest lifts. When you've
returned to your car, you find that the sign for the Exit
(Salida/Saida) is so positioned you can't see it until you've
gone past it. Then, after you've returned to the spot where you have
to turn left up the ramp, there isn't enough space for even a
standard size car to do this in one go. Finally, there's only one
lane for the Exit, not the normal two or three. But that's not all .
. . The piece de resistance is that there are not one but two
barriers to go through and, for God knows what reason, you have to
wait between the two barriers before the second one lifts. There's a
sign telling you to stop, wait and not crash through the second
barrier but, naturally, this is only in Gallego and unintelligible
English (Place Here). The upshot of this last night was a long
queue of cars waiting to get out. And this despite the fact the utter
inanity of the system was being demonstrated by a guy at the first
barrier taking your (possibly unpaid) ticket and hurrying you through
both (raised) barriers. A system override, in other words. Without
this, I suspect we'd have been there until dawn, waiting to have fun
with the barriers. Whoever designed this facility should be hung,
drawn and quartered. Or, better, made to drive round the car park for
the rest of eternity, vainlessly trying to get out. Meanwhile, I
shall coin the phrase airport rage. You heard it here first.
Possibly.
Here's
a picture of the infernal pipe-player and his streamer-twirling
accomplice.
They're heading down into town, at 11.30, for their
morning/midday labours. My guess was they'd spent the night at the
gypsy encampment below my house. But they might merely have been
there for supplies of something or other. Perhaps charcoal for a
barbecue. Or meat for the two dogs that were scampering after them,
out of picture. By the way, have you noticed it's the girl who's
carrying all their stuff? Possibly because it's mostly her
accoutrements. Nice to see equality in the world of panhandling.
And
here's a picture of something you don't see every day, even in
Galicia - a couple of oxen and an old woman in medieval costume and
sunglasses.
Her job was apparently to hold the female ox and tap it
every few minutes on the nose with the stick in her left hand.
Affectionately, of course.
And
here's a slogan my daughters and I saw on a wall as we walked to my
car. And with which we were all in agreement, while expecting it to
be some time in arriving.
Finally
. . . Here are said daughters and me, having just polished off a
hearty churrasco before taking the younger one to the airport.
Postscript
correction: I can now tell you there's no way to arrive at the
Pick up/Drop off point at Vigo airport by climbing up through the car
park floors. The only way is to ignore the sign that says Taxis
and Car Hire Returns Only and then blague your way out of
trouble, if you get stopped. "But it used to be this way, the
last time I came here last year". The cop will know you're lying
but will admire your chutzpah and let you off. But don't mention my
name . . .
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