Mr. Big is what I decided to name my backpack, after a loss of understanding (or memory, which I shall not admit) why I never named my backpack before. I mean the name is program, however there are much bigger backpacks. And with regards to Sex&theCity, I never liked Mr. Big. Nor did I very much like Sex&theCity. So maybe I need to rethink the name, for suggestions please email… Big Bird would be cool, but my backpack is grey and black. Mr. Hornbill (as hornbill in Phnom Penh are white and black, which is close) is sort of cool but then again not very personal, but I was thinking Big Bear would be nice or maybe Paddington. He’s a bit stout but in comparison to other bears rather cute, and he does have a character. And he’ll always come back.
Anyhow this was the intro to explain why it is sort of obvious that Mr. Big went on an adventure without me – when I arrived FINALLY at Barcelona airport yesterday, looking forward to the swift receipt of baggage that is normal here and feeling very much like getting to my bed downtown — what arrived was nothing. And after everybody else had left and the baggage thingie stopped moving, I went up to the official looking person wearing a badge to be told where to stand in line to claim my bag. Which I did. And waited. And waited… and fiiiinally gave all my details – Barcelona adress, German adress, description of Mr. Big, ….. only to be told IF the bag is found, they’ll call me within 24 hours. If it is NOT found, they won’t call me. But then I could call the airline to ask for refund.
Refund would mean a flight to Cambodia so I can rebuy all the souvenirs bought along the way. Which basically means going to the Russian market in Phnom Penh again.
I didn’t get annoyed too much – apart from longing for a bed – I felt Mr. Big stayed in Zürich. I couldn’t check through with Cambodia Airways coming from Phnom Penh, so I had to enter Thailand (that moment when you read you’ve now got a visa valid until Dec 12th – if it wasn’t for PSEN, I might have contacted my current project and asked if I can work online for the next 4 weeks, especially after having heard how cheap great places in Thailand are at the moment) and give all my fingerprints to do so. No big deal after already having given them at Phnom Penh airport. And then I got Mr. Big (he pretended he was up to nothing at that point). And then I checked him in with Swiss Air. And then I went through security again. Giving my fingerprints (only 8 fingers this time) AGAIN.
I felt this was the major part of travel stress that day, and the final security before entering Spain.
However when the plane started rolling to take off in Bangkok, we had a medical case. I only heard a very decisive „medical case“ order from the stewardess and saw her rushing with some 1st aid kit towards the front. 2min later, the captain announced we would go back to the gate where an ambulance would be waiting and then see how long it would take us to get another slot for takeoff again. I didn’t have more than a good 1h30 to switch planes in Zürich, so that didn’t relax me, then again I am still happy our medical case didn’t become a medical case 5min later, or this would have happened in the middle of take-off. And hearing „the person is now in stable condition“ shortly before we reached back at the gate, made me quite happy I wasn’t closer to witness more details. And after all, I’d rather deal with being late in Zürich than finding out how the inside of an ambulance looks in Bangkok. So all relative, right.
Anyhow while we must have been a good 30 to 45 min late for takeoff, by the time we had made it to Europe, we only had a delay of 25min, and it was clear I would have no problem to catch my connection flight. Also, thanx to Munichireneangel, I did have my PUK which meant I could finally unlock my German SIM card again – which made me feel I can call God and the world once in Barcelona. And maybe with all of that, the steward in the end offered me the little bottle of wine for free to take-along, saying it would cost on the connection Swiss flight and I rejoyced in the imagination of drinking it at ease in the next flight, when nothing was waiting for me other than head towards Alessandras beautiful place.
However. Zürich Airport. Those little suckers. Even on that small airport, and doing transit only from one flight to the other – put me through security again. Which would have been ok, hadn’t it been for the fact that they ask you to get rid of all the liquids. So I empty my refill-bottle and try my best charming look at asking about the (very small, but bigger than 100ml…) wine bottle, underlining it was a present on the airplane. And the lady says I need to discuss with the security officer (hoohoooo) and he of course denies. No not possible. But it’s a present! And I’m only doing transit! No not possible. But had I bought something at the Duty Free..? Well yes if I had the Duty Free bag, I could keep the wine bottle as well. You know it was an obvious airplane-bottle of wine, so quite clear I wasn’t lying or bringing my own stock of German Schnaps or anything. No no not possible. I said please. No not possible – but I could go back in front of the line to the throw-away-your-liquids-point (environmentally conscious, Zürich offers a sort of sink to pour away the liquid only, so you can keep the bottle…) and drink the wine there. I looked back. I would have to wait in line again and with alcohol, I do follow a strict principle of drinking in style – and this was definately not it. So I gave up and I tell the guy well just take it. And then he throws it with a sort of relentless energy and with a naughty hint of energy – into the trash bin. Had he done that at least once I was out of witness-radius, but noooooo……. I looked at him somewhere between startled and outraged and said „but how can you throw it away, at least you should drink it!“. Had this been the US, I know you really have to watch your tongue, but after all this felt like structured Europe after four weeks of South East Asia and —- well. He said no not possible. And I said well but that’s stupid. And he said yes, it is, but that’s the rules.
After which I decided the world is unfair, I’m glad the steward never witnessed this and hopefully is never going to read this – and next time I’m given such a present on the airplane, I shall ask for a Duty Free Bag……
And back to talking of bags, on top the airport didn’t manage to transfer my baggage in time. Which I only found out in Barcelona.
Well.
Alessandra provided me with a night-shirt, I checked the Swiss-delayed-baggage site this morning and felt very happy to find out Mr. Big was seen in Zürich and is taking his own airplane today. And a little earlier, the airport called (on my working German SIM phone, I just have to repeat that out of joy) to announce they’ll deliver Mr. Big to Carrer de Trafalgar between 7 and 10pm. Alessandra already said they’d be there in the evening, and I am tempted to not be there, as I found this Mexican shop and they have a Dias de los Muertos Special today with putting-up-the-altar event and party lateron with Mexican music and anyhow they have this wooden colibri that is soooo cute that I am tempted but there is absolutely no souvenir-space left in my baggage. Well I will talk to Mr. Big lateron to reconsider… And make sure he’s ok with being renamed into Paddington. However I’m already tired and just did the one thing I normally don’t at 22pm – I had an espresso. That should help to stay awake a little longer, but somehow I’m looking forward to crash on my bed early in the European evening.
Barcelona is as lovely as always, though it’s funny to see it through culture-shocked eyes. First of all it’s quite cold. For the first time, I behave like Spanish locals, wishing for my jacket (Paddington will provide this lateron) and finding long sleeves most appropriate, while being amazed by tourists looking as if they’ve mixed up high summer with Northern Spanish autumn.
Anyhow. Yesterday, or rather very early today, when finally driving downtown with light luggage in the Aerobus, I was irritated by the traffic. Normally I enjoy Barcelona traffic, somehow different from Munich, a bit more wild, less structured, … Yesterday it felt like still being in Switzerland – all very very structured, orderly, clean, and — only cars. No tuktuks, no motorcycles, nothing fun happening, a boring exposition of boring car-vehicles and even a mosquitoe-free bus. And the city feels much cleaner than it usually does (given Munich comparison, any city feels dirtier, just to name that, it’s a Bavarian postcard joke). Apart from the one thing that I don’t get about Barcelona – it always smells of urine. Even dirty sidewalks (that is, if there is a sidewalk) in any Cambodia city managed only a fraction of that smellwise and only on a very small stretch of any given street, while here it’s a wow to find a longer stretch in any given street in the old city that’s not smelly.
Well. I found my spot in a nice café where I sit outside, Barcelonas parrots are flying in the sky, it’s very easy to find healthy food, I find it chilly but nice nevertheless – and I even changed my clothes until a long-sleeve shirt and some jeans found me at Humana. My favourite 2nd hand shop chain in Barcelona, which „unfortunately“ happened to be open on a Sunday. Seems Barcelona has more tourists than Angkor Wat.
I did want to write more about Phnom Penh, but I also wanted to add in some pics, but those are still on my camera, and the cable to connect PC and camera – well it’s in Paddingtons belly. Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe I’ll write more later, trying to not fall asleep too early….