The signs are all there. The glances at the calendar have become longer and more frequent. My slapdash preparation scheme has become if not more efficient then at least more frantic. Tickets and paperwork have been downloaded to my phone, printed out hard copy and sent to my email address. If history is anything to go by I will mislay all three whenever I actually need to produce any of it. In short I am as ready for my holiday as it is possible for me to be.
Having visited the southern entrance to the Mediterranean last year I have decided to grace (if that's the right word)* the Iberian Peninsula with my presence. A tour will collect me from Madrid and shepherd me around various parts of Spain and Portugal (except Barcelona) before dumping me back exactly where I started. Once I have returned to Madrid a fast train will take me to Barcelona, famous for the length of its building projects, where I shall whizz around in a motorcycle sidecar for no better reason than I've never done that before and I'm on holiday. Once I've tired of the sidecar (or once the rider is tired of me throwing up on it) I shall make my way to the airport where a bus will take me to the third of the nations on the peninsula, Andorra where I shall allegedly enjoy several days hiking in the Pyrenees.
There is one thing I am pretty certain of; since I'm flying Turkish Airlines my departure gate at Sydney Airport will probably be somewhere near Wollongong. Since it is a code share with Qantas it will also probably be late. Hopefully not too late as I have to change planes in Djakarta and then again in Istanbul before the pide, sorry pride of Turkey deposits me in what was once the centre of Habsburg power. I've heard good reports about Turkish airlines and since my experience with them will come directly after Qantas I expect to be favourably impressed.
Incidentally for those rather surprised by my sudden enthusiasm for hiking holidays it has to be admitted that this was the only tour of Andorra that was available. It is fair to say I don't dislike hiking but it is the destination rather than the wearisome journey that is the appeal here. For six or seven days I shall hunker down in a hotel in some part of Andorra (specific details provided on my tour docs) and sally forth daily to tramp around the surrounding mountains hopefully taking photos of rare and attractive wildlife. Somewhere in the middle I have a day off to visit Andorra la Vella where I hope to buy a football jersey.
Unfortunately for my new incarnation as a holiday hiker my preparations were derailed by a last minute refusal of my knee to do the job for which it was designed (or evolved depending on your belief system). Limping and whimpering I visited my doctor, then a radiology clinic, then my doctor, then an imaging clinic, then my doctor, then a knee specialist, then my doctor again. The upshot of all of this is that I may need to have bits shaved off my kneecap at some point in the future but for right now I've been shot full of steroids and prescribed hardcore anti inflammatories and hopefully I will make it through Andorra without my leg falling off. Once I return something will actually have to be done.
Twelve days are all that remain before I leave so there are only eight or nine days before I remember whatever it is that I've forgotten and now don't have time to rectify. It isn't a passport, visa or plane tickets so I'm definitely arriving in Spain even if I get no further. I tried to get transfers to my hotel but apparently the Spanish government after vigorous lobbying from the pickpocketing industry has banned this practice forcing those who visit their nations capital to throw themselves on the mercy of public transport or taxis. I haven't quite decided which of the above is going to rip me off but I'm leaning towards taxis. After all a taxi will drop me right at my hotel and will contain only one pickpocket.
*I have been contacted by the Spanish tourist authorities, "grace" is absolutely not the right word.
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