The Ranter Returns........
Yes, the Ranter is returning to Spain after a long hard summer with barely a day off. And as ever, I don't want to go and I dread the journey. Last year was a bit of an unexpected doddle so this year can hardly be the same, can it? - No, it can't. And here's how.
I've been running around like a blue a*sed whatsit for days taking stuff to and fro the storage unit and the house and the two units ( I have a spare one running up to leaving so I can stash the overflow as well as anything ready to take with me, leaving the permanent unit to be packed as best it can be as soon as possible), I'm exhausted, totally stressed with the annual problem of "will it all fit" because basically everything has to go in either the van or the unit and I'm very afraid this year that it won't.
Last day and right enough, it doesn't. I'd planned a leisurely departure with time to eat and play with the cat, but no. I leave 40 mins late with my last night's curry in a takeaway container and immediately things are not right. The traffic going out of Long Eaton is horrendous right up to the M1. The M1 goes like this - drive ok, roadworks & speed restriction, drive ok, congestion & speed restriction- for most of the way, joining the M25 is the same and then the news that J24-25 has delays. That was an understatement as it amounted to 4 lanes more or less at standstill and I was in the inside lane. After some time it is clear that all other lanes are moving faster and maybe that is people in my lane needing to come off at the next junction. But if we all jump lanes then what happens? Eventually I give in and immediately find out, lane 2 is now the one not moving whilst 1, 3 and 4 trickle on. The overheads indicate that lanes 3 and 4 will be closed further up so it's a source of constant amazement and sheer frustration to see them still moving past at a half decent speed compared to lane 2, more or less stopped. But you can bet what would have happened if I'd moved across, and I didn't, because the signs then said that lanes 3 and 4 would have to merge with 2 and 1. So how come they kept on passing???? when we get to the scene of the crash which held us all up, the fire brigade have done a very neat dissection of a car but that's all that is left and in fact only lane 4 have to merge, briefly, as lane 3 are still piling past without a hiccup. I'm now over an hour late for my crossing at the Eurotunnel and all because somebody did something stupid on the M25 and because another load of people don't take any notice of instuctions or warning signs, whereas I did and it's cost me. But I DO know what would have happened if I'd done what they did.......
Arrive at the tunnel and the nice lady says go on down, you might get on the 2250 but I can't guarantee it. I do, I don't. So I sit there until the 2320 loads, which means by the time we arrive (and bizarrely it seemed to take longer this time and we seemed to arrive somewhere slightly different the other end) it is gone 0100 and I've got 20mins or so to the horrible Premiere Classe hotel just off the motorway at St Martin Boulogne. I only stay there because of where it is. It's a 3 story barrack block with outside stairs and access to all rooms off an exterior walkway. The rooms are barely big enough for the metal framed bed plus overhead bunk and anyone bigger than me would get stuck in the bathroom let alone the shower only it has no screen so you'd just be half in the shower bit and the rest of you in the bathroom anyway. Past 2100 there is no-one to help you fight the stupid automatic check in machine which takes some persuading it does recognise your booking and no you don't want your card charing with another 5 quid for bloody breakfast, I didn't want to pay by card in the first place as I took every available penny out of the bank and changed it into euros so I could pay cash. It's 2am, I'm totally knackered, been in the driving seat since 1740 and dinner consists of the cold curry leftovers I brought with me eaten in the van on the tunnel crossing. A warm can of cider from the van makes a small contribution to alleviating stress before falling into bed. Did I mention the car park? I'ts got tiny spaces and no room to manoeuvre and it's also full so I had to park outside in the street. I hate this hotel. I think I mentioned that. Almost as much as my hatred of drivers on the M25 who disobey signs thereby gaining an unfair advantage which deeply offends my sense of fair play, and WTF do they drive in lane 3 of 4 when there is no bugger in lane 2 and hardly anyone in lane 1, and the "Dart=charge" is still a nonsense of entrapment proportions for the unwary but that is a follow up rant from last year and best not opened up again..........(did you know you have to pay online now to cross at Dartford? If you didn't, do ask me about it)
Day 2
Needless to say I am not up with the lark but nevertheless treated to the sounds of fellow travellers showering and leaving followed by the cleaners; you can keep your room until 1200 it says but I defy you to try, the bucket and mop are outside your door, you slacker, it's after 9am for goodness sake, surely you need to leave.....I mean, I've missed the totally average 5 euros breakfast already and as much out of spite (not that they will notice), had a shower and ranted on facebook, so I try to return the plastic entry card as requested but by now the door is locked because the staff are having their coffee and right lively natter. Bonjour indeed. I leave, determined that next year I WILL find an alternative......
Only just under hours to drive to the next stop just past Bordeaux. What idiocy persists that I can't grasp how awful this drive is and how Google AND the sat nav lie and it's always hours more than they say. OK I needed a couple of 10 minute power naps but still........when it got down to 3 hours I almost got excited........and when past Bordeaux and just waiting for the exit on the motorway, another 3 miles, I look in sheer disbelief and horror at the contraflow in operation and pray it will end short of my exit. It doesn't. I don't believe it, I've just seen the sodding hotel from the wrong side of the motorway and had to go past. A mere 4 point something miles later I exit (oh yes the contraflow is over now, but is there any diversion sign? is there heck) and go back down to the original junction and come off the wrong side. That works thank goodness as once again I am so tired I am swaying and it is well past reception time. Since the buggers have already taken my payment (what is the point of stating on the booking that you wish to pay cash not card??) long before the day of arrival, I manage to get the automatic checkout to disclose my room number and means of entry, purchase a vending machine sandwich and head for my room. I've not eaten other than a couple of scones lurking in the van, and not had a coffee all day as the conspiracy against me which exists in France means that shelling out 1.80 for a vending machine latter produces a cup so topped with froth that it is impossible to realise at first that there is in fact NO coffee in it rather than just weak coffee. I attempt to vent my frustration to a couple of people and meet with some sympathy and one "stop complaining". Some friend eh.
Day 3
Now this hotel might be Premiere Classe but it's a good bit cheaper than that last one and it's actually quite nice. Motel style, park outside your door more or less if you're in the car park facing rows, close to the motorway (yes you can see it as you drive past on the other side of the road) with grass areas between the rows of rooms and NO OVERHEAD bunk in the room and even the semblance of a normal budget hotel room. I decide to buy breakfast and sit outside in the morning sunshine before heading off again, seeing the cheery cleaners about their business and NOT harassing the late leavers, in fact I was able to wake myself up due to the pleasant nature of these premises. Anyway the goodwill is short lived as the contraflow is still on which means now I can't get BACK onto the motorway and end up doing a nice long diversion through the rather pretty countryside until I can get back to the motorway. That's an extra 20 mins instead of under 5, bad start. Then it's toll after toll after toll, so I can't say I haven't been out of the van - drivers seat is wrong side for the machines so out I get every single time. Couple of fuel stops as I'm only putting a bit in, living in hopes of a Le Clerc or Carrefour where it's seriously better prices, but no......one fuel stop causes bother as first pump turns out to card payment only. Move to another one. Out of order, Try again, nothing happens and no notices to say so, but yes go pay before using it, but you have to go back again after to collect your receipt. Whatever. Toll, toll, toll and more tolls. Cross the border. More tolls.
Only 3 hours to go. Starting to relax and think today has not been too bad. I should know better. Two trafficos on motorbikes overtake and pull in in front of me.....oh no....oh yes, next layby in we go.......pen out, form out, start scribbling, can we have your licence please......what's the problem? Too much stuff. Open the back door please. (Mentally cross fingers it doesn't all fall out when I do...) Officer sighs and shuts door again and telling off recommences. It's the front seat causing the problem would you believe? 40 euros please. (Thinks to self thank goodness that's all and in Spain too, in the UK I'd have had to offload it no doubt) Other officer gravely asks if I am going to Madrid, " a bit further" - "Malaga?" near.......and says it's possible I might get stopped again........(I think meanly that he might phone ahead and warn them if it's an easy 40 euros!) I promise not to do it again and am on my way. It's true the front seat is overloaded but I can see out and into the wing mirror and it's all only there because it really genuinely didn't fit in the back and the unit was full.....I hate living like this and I hate travelling like this, afraid all the time I'm going to get stopped but I'm not reckless just busy and got too much stock etc etc. No excuse and all that I know.......I really DON'T want to do this, the journey let alone the overloaded van.
Anyway, with bated breath and clenched hands on the wheel I make it through Madrid and the 50 odd kilometres after that and there by the side of the motorway is La Parada, my safe haven from last year (no imagination this year, just re-booked the same route stops, they were cheap and 2 out of 3 were ok). It's only just gone 1900 and still light, there are nice people working here including all night.....the air con works in my room (it didn't last year and I was too nice to ask to move but you can bet this year I would have) there is the same smell which may be the drains but it's the best room yet and bigger and downstairs is a bar and food.........so here I am, 4 glasses of wine later and some very acceptable tapas. Oh I did sit outside to watch the sun go down - it was still hot as well (bugger) and got bitten by a pesky mosquito. Welcome back to Spain. Tomorrow the shortest leg of the journey as I know my stamina as well as my patience is pretty much used up by day 4. Am I excited? Not really, of course I want to be "home" as much as where I rent and store my stuff is home, and where the cats (what few there are left) are, and to see my friends here again. But it also means confronting and putting off no longer, even for the few days travelling, the problems and conflicts which being in Spain and trying to earn a living entail. And whilst I miss my friends whichever lot I'm away from, the ones in the UK have known me longer and my family are there, and I hardly have time to spend with any of them before it's all over again and the 9 months away is longer to miss them all than the 3-4 when I'm away from Spain, if you get my drift. All that stuff about being displaced rears up again and where we truly belong , and I'm not unware of the poor people who really are entirely displaced and not through choice and how we all or mostly retain a longing for our roots culturally and geographically...........And now my philosophical frame of mind totally destroyed by the very late arrival of a ton of noisy Spaniards and now the water pipes making an unholy row even if they've finished slamming doors and talking loudly in the corridor. Tomorrow is another day.