As it began, so it ended, with lots and lots of waiting. I arrived at the bus terminal quite early, because I didn't know what the night time schedules were for buses to the terminal from downtown, and I didn't want to walk, (remembering the fiasco of earlier that day). Eventually our bus was announced, and we descended into the smelly and chilly basement of the station to get on board. The bus rumbled through the night. In Arzua, we picked up a whole pile of senior citizens, dressed in their Sunday best. One fellow in a pale yellow vee neck sweater was especially dapper. Unlike me, they were full of beans and in high good humour; chatting. The details are fuzzy now, but I think they got off in San Sebastian.
I dozed a bit, waking with every stop in every little town. Some of them I knew from the first Camino, so it was interesting to revisit them in the middle of the night. It was surprising how many people got on and off at three in the morning! We reached Bilbao in the early morning. I had various seat partners, but we were mostly silent. Although my flight was not until the next morning, I was now in travel mode, and no longer interested in sightseeing, so my experience of the city consisted of a breakfast in a beautifully appointed Art Nouveau Cafe by the theatre; one last reconnoitre of the old town, and the hailing of a cab to take me to my hotel by the airport.
I was horrified to find that the hotel had no real food. There was a breakfast bar and vending machines with things like pasta which you could warm up in the microwave in your room. I purchased several disgusting items with the last of my Euro-coinage, and settled in for a period of hermithood. The plane left at the ungodly hour of 7.10 am; I was under the apprehension that I had to be there two hours ahead, and I'd forgotten how to set the alarm on my watch. I just had to hope that my inner clock, which ran on apprehension, would be working.
I had a long shower and used up thick soft white towels as if there was no tomorrow. I watched Mysterios de Laura until the news came on telling of an earthquake shaking the town of Lorca in Murcia. I watched the ancient tower of a church fall, live. It was brutally fascinating. But before long, I tired of the misery and turned off the set. I watched the sky become grey and then black, and somewhere along the line, I fell asleep.
My internal alarm clock was right on schedule, and I had time for breakfast, along with the other travellers. The first shuttle was scheduled for 6.00 am. The airport didn't even open until then. I guessed that the security couldn't be all that tight. I probably could have walked it in 10 minutes, but if the doors weren't open, what was the point? At 5.45, I was out under the portico waiting for that first shuttle. With me were a Canadian couple from Halifax, a guy from Montreal and a Swede. Must be something about Northern living that makes us anxious about being on time. Eventually we were joined by some Germans and Spaniards.
When the shuttle driver showed up, the German girls rushed the line, but we beat them back. In an uncharacteristic show of assertion, we said...Hey, not so fast, we were here first! One of the girls whined, "But I have a flight at 7, 15!" "And so do we!" we chorused, as the French Canadian guy threw the girl's bag back out of the van. I think we all felt a little impolite, but the Swedish guy (who came from the other end of the lake where my Great Grandma was born) assured us that we were in the right. The stunned shuttle driver just let it all play out.
Sure enough, there was plenty of time to get our bags sorted and even have a coffee together before they called our various flights. I was sorry to see the Swede and the Montrealer were going on a different flight (though to the same destination), but I had a very nice chat with the Haligonians; a fish biologist and a retired teacher.
Then it was Frankfurt. Ugh. Lots of time spent waiting and spending money on food (which was pretty good by airport standards). I bought a Sudoku book to pass the time. I am very bad at Sudoku, but I didn't like the look of any of the books for actual reading.
On the Frankfurt-Ottawa leg, I sat with a scout for the Ottawa Senators. I don't know where he was coming from but he was wearing shorts. I knew he was a hockey player before we even spoke, because of his massively developed knees. He was a charming, though quiet companion. I gave him my nasty blue airline issue blanket so he could sleep. I watched a couple of movies, True Grit and Made in Dagenham. We had the seats by the emergency exit, so there was loads of legroom. There was also quite a bit of turbulence. Ugh.
Nick met me at the airport and I started babbling immediately; I haven't stopped yet. In the parking lot, the dog greeted me with a perfunctory sniff, and lay back down in the back of the car. In her case, absence had no effect at all apparently. Oh, well. I'm home safe and the dog still hates me. All must be right with the world.
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