Homeward bound

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In denial, we faffed around for an hour or so doing a final pack this morning, trying to consolidate 6 ½ weeks of travelling and the acquisition of stuff, including a car seat, into two suitcases and a couple of side bags.

In the end we got it down to 20 kgs into Sarah’s case, 30 kgs into Gabor’s case, grossly overstuffed laptop bags and camera bags, a backpack, a baby backpack, a baby and a car seat. All was well, and the apartment owners were happy to inherit 30 nappies and a few bits of clothing that Kaspar had outgrown after eating too many buttery pastries. After several attempts at readjusting the load, we hit the streets just after midday, making our way up La Rambla towards Placa Catalunya.

We clearly underestimated the effort to get to the bus stop, but this was largely due to extraneous circumstances including: the scorching heat of the midday sun, the two wheels on Gabor’s suitcase completely shredding on the cobbled footpath, and the multitude of people who would not simply take one step to the side to let us walk by…their bad luck really, and the baby seat induced bruises and scratches that they will be nursing tonight may be a reminder for them the next time they see a couple of people about to crumble under the strain of holiday’s end (or beginning) - but probably not.

We arrived at the bus stop completely shattered and unpleasantly dripping sweat (although Kaspar seemed to quite enjoy the ride and a last very slow wander down the people-watching mecca of La Rambla). We just about cried when we saw the queue for the airport bus wound its way down the footpath about 200 people long. But fortunately, as with the tourist bus, this bus stop was served extremely well and 3 buses quickly swallowed up the line ahead of us, and we were on the next bus and settled in for the ride. Minor victory!

So, we were at the airport with about four and a half hours before our flight left, and were pleasantly surprised to learn that we could check in already. Another minor victory.

But then things started to go a bit wayward.

Our flight back to NZ takes us from Barca to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to Singapore, Singapore to Auckland, Auckland to Wellington. We’re all together apart from the Frankfurt to Singapore leg, despite our Frank-Sing legs being only about 40 minutes apart.

So firstly at the check in they couldn’t find Sarah’s booking, as she had an e-ticket. Off we go to get that sorted and return to the check in.

Cant find Kaspar’s booking. Off we go to get that sorted.

Cant find Sarah again. Off we go to get that sorted.

Cant get the bassinet seat.

Cant tell us if the flight is full/empty so we can reserve a seat next to us so Kaspar can stretch out for a sleep.

Cant give Sarah and Kaspar vegetarian meals.

Cant get us sitting together on the Sing-Auck leg.

Cant book Sarah all the way through - have to check in again at Singapore.

Put Kaspar on the flight from Frank-Sing with Gabor instead of with Sarah (while Gabor didn’t have a problem with this, it may lead to some difficulties come time to breastfeed). Cant correct this and we’re told we have to do it in Frankfurt.

The drama’s continue until after about an hour and a half we receive a stack of 12 boarding passes, they accept our masses of luggage without charging us for excess, and Sarah and Gabor agree that its probably not sorted yet but we’ve got enough to get on the first flight and hey, we needed to kill some time anyway so a marathon check-in session is as good a way as any to do this. Surprisingly we were very calm and agreeable throughout the whole process…I doubt it will last.

We cleared customs and settled down for Kaspar to have a sleep, while taking turns to wander duty free for that last minute (or in our case, first minute) shopping. Kaspar decided he didn’t want to sleep until two minutes before Sarah had returned from window licking. By this stage, feeling the fatigue of the last seven weeks and realising our holiday was over, our hearts weren’t really in it anymore and shopping was completely written off. Premature apologies to anyone expecting a pressie. If it’s any consolation we didn’t even buy ourselves anything.

One of the major benefits of travelling with a baby - you get to faff around as long as you like prior to departure and you still get to the front of the queue when its time to board the aeroplane.

The flight to Frankfurt was uneventful, and although we did score an empty seat next to us thanks to an opportunistic businessman seeing the chance to get an upgrade to business class (or at the least the perks of business class) by saying that he was willing to move seats, Kaspar didn’t sleep a wink.

It wasn’t until we landed that we realised that we had to a) go to Lufthansa ticketing and cancel Kaspar’s place on Gabor’s flight, and b) go to Singapore ticketing and get a new place for Kaspar on Sarah’s flight. This wouldn’t’ have been such a problem if our flight from Barca wasn’t delayed about forty minutes, and Gabor hadn’t needed to get to his connecting flight - at the other end of the Frankfurt terminal - more or less as soon as we landed.

We found a helpful woman at the Lufthansa counter and another helpful man at the Singapore counter, and then parted ways, to be seen in another continent.

Gabor checked his watch and realised his flight was leaving in 13 minutes, meaning boarding was about to, or had closed. Suspicions were confirmed when he dashed past the Lufthansa counter again…they said they’d call the gate and let them know he was on the way, but that he was well overdue, and had to hurry…”make sure you catch the skytrainnnnnn”. Didn’t seem such a big deal but Gabor sprints down the corridor, runs up the stairs to the sky train and as it approached realises its heading in the wrong direction. Bugger! Down the stairs, sprinting further along the corridor, up the stairs and just grabs the skytrain heading in the other direction.

Panting, thinking he’d made it, the doors remain open. A minute passes. Another, One more. The doors finally close. Gabor sits upright readjusting his baggage expecting to be hurtled forward as the warning over the PA warns passengers to grab hold of the rail. The skytrain crawls along at about 3 kms/hr and comes to a painfully slow halt at the A terminal.

Where’s gate 65? Why, wouldn’t you know it, down the very end. Gabor tears off past gate’s 58, 59, 60, 6….Thunk! An airport guard checking boarding passes sticks out an incredibly straight arm (think ‘Samoan Father’) and stops him in his tracks, demanding to see his passport and boarding pass, while his colleagues who are practically asleep on their luggage scanners argue over whether he needs to take his laptop out of its bag. Not sure whether it was the speed at which he approached their station, the beads of sweat and bulging veins on his forehead, or just the time of day, but one of them just waved all his bags through the scanner, unopened, and away he went again.

Finally, reaching gate A65 (of course the very last gate at the A terminal, and about as far from Sarah’s gate as you can physically get) at 22.06 for a flight leaving at 22.10 Gabor was told they were just looking for his bags to remove them from the plane. Onboard at last, Gabor found his seat, docked his bags overhead and began to breath again as the sweat poured off him for the third time today. Lucky for others he’s been carrying deodorant.

Naturally about 10 minutes later the captain announced that there were delays on the tarmac and the flight would not be leaving for another 20 minutes, . Oh well, after seven weeks of chocolate for a good workout was well overdue.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the airport, Sarah and Kaspar boarded their flight effortlessly, found their seat towards the front of the aircraft (which was thankfully paired with an empty seat next to them) and stretched out for the nightline to Singapore. Kaspar slept for around 10 hours as Sarah indulged is some reruns of mediocre American comedies.

After reuniting in Singapore we had to repeat a milder version of our boarding pass fiasco, but we let them deal with it as we set up camp in one corner of the Air New Zealand lounge and ate a disproportionate number of egg mayonnaise rolls. Kaspar stretched out on a couple of chairs and managed to give himself the worst case of bed hair that anyone has seen in months.

The Singapore to Auckland leg was only about a third full so we had a set of seats to spread ourselves out…and spread ourselves out we did! However the reality of heading home really set in and Kaspar’s sleeping patterns began to slip out of synch, unable to settle down for long periods.

However, he did much better than the other family near us - one child had a pretty bad cold and spent 10 hours coughing, while the other child had a chronic sleeping stability issue and kept rolling off the seat, not always when her mum or dad was nearby to catch her. Donk!

Sarah and Gabor, starved of sleep, weren’t doing much better than Kaspar in the sleeping stakes, but Sarah managed to watch a couple of homosexual movies to pass the time and sure enough the wintry blast of Auckland’s misty skies soon approached.

The crispness of Auckland’s air provided a welcome blast to the sinuses - something that you always appreciate after coming home from abroad. Kaspar had really had enough by the time we made the last leg from Auckland to Wellington, and fair enough too after nearly 40 hours in transit since we’d left the apartment in Barcelona!

It was great to have Miki meet us at the airport, be taken home to hot soup a la Ma, and too see Arlene and meet Kaspar’s new cousin, Ella - and what a little doll she is! She has a few pies to get through to reach K’s poundage, but for now she’s doing just peachy, as are a very relaxed looking mum and dad.

After a partial-unpack, everyone was washed down and wrapped up in bed by 5.30pm and asleep by 5.32pm marvelling in the warmth and comfort of their own beds.

Postscript

After 46 days, 44040 kms in the air, 4500km of driving, 500+ kms of walking, over 250 espressos and 150 pain au chocolate, we are all glad to be home with friends, family and the menagerie. But likewise it was wonderful to see the extended family in Hungary again, friends in the UK, and some new and intriguing parts of Europe.

Recovery diets and training regimes are already in place and first discussions are being held for Sixreyesontour, 2008.

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Comments

[heath]

err....
...that'd be Quinns/Sixeyes on Tour 2008....planning is indeed underway....