hollll-i-day
So, I got back from SPAIN yesterday, which looked a lot like this:
(This is a bad picture. This is because I am so embarrassed about taking photographs that my general tactic is to whip out my camera when I think no-one's looking and, whilst looking at anything but my camera, point it vaguely in the right direction, click and hope. It's a tactic that's given me lots of bemusing photos of bicycles and shots of the sky with some potentially good architecture peeping in at the bottom)
And I had a relatively nice time spent drinking beer by myself at cafes for five days (Cordoba is supposed to be some kind of 'culture centre' and it may indeed be one, but I decided I was far too tired to go and see anything that would justify the airfare/make me a more interesting/culturally aware person/give me an opportunity to practise my extremely feeble language skills) and I hugged David Tennant, but that was only a dream so I suppose it doesn't really count.
I also listened to Sufjan Stevens' 'Illinoise' album because I found it when I was packing, as you do, and I was listening to 'Chicago' and went OHMYGOD,THIS TUNE IS ACTUALLY IN 'THE END OF THE WORLD' EP WHEN THOSE BLUE PEOPLE ARE RUNNING AROUND AND THINGS and got really excited and then got kind of ashamed that I was so excited and decided that a) it was probably a fairly popular jingle, and b) I should probably stop thinking about Doctor Who all the time. BUT STILL, OHMYGOD. What will actually happen now is I will watch TEOTW and be utterly confused and say 'Um. This is nothing like 'Chicago.' Why would I even think that?'
Malaga airport was die-ah-boll-ee-kol. I just remember wandering around, on the verge of sobbing my eyes out, going 'I just want to get home. I want to go home. How do I get home?' I was in that advanced state of panic where the simplest things seem insurmountably difficult and I ended up trailing behind some English people in the hope that because they were English and I was English they would somehow lead me to the right gate and get me home. And the guy on security had tan gloves and made me take off my shoes and I had to stand there in mismatched holey socks on this freezing floor while another woman went through another guy's backpack because he had left a whole bottle of shampoo in there and then she started appreciatively sniffing his soap. I could have cheerfully stabbed them all to death with my keys.
Of course, by the time I actually reached English Border Control (after going via Timbuktu or similar) I was like why did I ever want to come back here again? Passport control decided I looked suspiciously shifty or something and were all 'ARE YOU TRAVELLING ON YOUR OWN?' 'WHERE HAVE YOU COME FROM?' 'DID YOU GO ANYWHERE ELSE WHILE YOU WERE THERE?' and I felt like telling them that that last question made no sense but decided that would be tantamount to saying 'I have a bomb in my bag; would you like to see it?'
Honestly, I had a really nice holiday. I think.
(This is a bad picture. This is because I am so embarrassed about taking photographs that my general tactic is to whip out my camera when I think no-one's looking and, whilst looking at anything but my camera, point it vaguely in the right direction, click and hope. It's a tactic that's given me lots of bemusing photos of bicycles and shots of the sky with some potentially good architecture peeping in at the bottom)
And I had a relatively nice time spent drinking beer by myself at cafes for five days (Cordoba is supposed to be some kind of 'culture centre' and it may indeed be one, but I decided I was far too tired to go and see anything that would justify the airfare/make me a more interesting/culturally aware person/give me an opportunity to practise my extremely feeble language skills) and I hugged David Tennant, but that was only a dream so I suppose it doesn't really count.
I also listened to Sufjan Stevens' 'Illinoise' album because I found it when I was packing, as you do, and I was listening to 'Chicago' and went OHMYGOD,THIS TUNE IS ACTUALLY IN 'THE END OF THE WORLD' EP WHEN THOSE BLUE PEOPLE ARE RUNNING AROUND AND THINGS and got really excited and then got kind of ashamed that I was so excited and decided that a) it was probably a fairly popular jingle, and b) I should probably stop thinking about Doctor Who all the time. BUT STILL, OHMYGOD. What will actually happen now is I will watch TEOTW and be utterly confused and say 'Um. This is nothing like 'Chicago.' Why would I even think that?'
Malaga airport was die-ah-boll-ee-kol. I just remember wandering around, on the verge of sobbing my eyes out, going 'I just want to get home. I want to go home. How do I get home?' I was in that advanced state of panic where the simplest things seem insurmountably difficult and I ended up trailing behind some English people in the hope that because they were English and I was English they would somehow lead me to the right gate and get me home. And the guy on security had tan gloves and made me take off my shoes and I had to stand there in mismatched holey socks on this freezing floor while another woman went through another guy's backpack because he had left a whole bottle of shampoo in there and then she started appreciatively sniffing his soap. I could have cheerfully stabbed them all to death with my keys.
Of course, by the time I actually reached English Border Control (after going via Timbuktu or similar) I was like why did I ever want to come back here again? Passport control decided I looked suspiciously shifty or something and were all 'ARE YOU TRAVELLING ON YOUR OWN?' 'WHERE HAVE YOU COME FROM?' 'DID YOU GO ANYWHERE ELSE WHILE YOU WERE THERE?' and I felt like telling them that that last question made no sense but decided that would be tantamount to saying 'I have a bomb in my bag; would you like to see it?'
Honestly, I had a really nice holiday. I think.