We live as long as we fly
So, in our van, which the young hipster had dubbed the Black Jeep, we flew down to Fuseta. Young — because he's 3 years old, hipster — because irony, since we were driving in a white van, meaning the name was the exact opposite of reality.
It seems that the travel story so far has been a tale of bureaucracy and troubles. I hope that with this part, that will cease, and I can finally tell you about the charms of Portugal.
So, around eleven in the evening I got an e-mail saying that the only solution they could offer me was a flight to Lisbon via Madrid. It just gets better and better — at first they at least tried to get us to Faro, and now it’s just Lisbon, where we weren't aiming to go at all. Sure, we could change the place where we were renting the car and head to Faro ourselves, but with a layover on top of it all! I checked, and it turned out there were tickets for a direct easyJet flight from Berlin to Lisbon at 12:50. Why aren't they offering them to us? It's a mystery.
The second and final option on the agenda was to not agree to any of the alternatives, do everything ourselves with our own money, and eventually get up to 600 euros in compensation, albeit far from immediately. This option was called refunds and compensations.
The previous post ended with us sitting in a 2.1-star rated airport in Berlin, enjoying the spring and the uncertainty. To eliminate the latter, we started calling Kiwi.
Good thing I brought a headset with me, because all my boarding passes are on my phone. To get through to a live operator who could solve my issue, I first had to talk to a robot. The robot, that bastard, demanded not only the reservation number, but also the full name of the passenger plus the date of birth.