Delicious sugar-free Schweppes, but we don't have it anywhere back home
Over the next few days, I was getting ready to fly out. I took Friday off to make my way to Alicante, where my flight to Eindhoven, the Netherlands, was departing from. I packed my bike, but the courier didn't show up on Wednesday, which started to make me pretty nervous. I had to bombard the courier service with emails and calls. He finally showed up on Thursday evening, marveling at the size of the box, but took it anyway. I was already rubbing my hands with glee, having no idea what kind of trouble awaited me ahead.
Anyway, on Friday morning I hopped on the express train to Alicante. Even with a stop in Barcelona, it takes almost five hours, and that's not bad, considering Google Maps says the bus takes nearly 12. What can you do, it's a mountainous country, and taking a high-speed train is just easier; there's no point in upgrading the roads that much. Unlike the US, where everyone drives cars and has completely forgotten what passenger trains are. And even the whole ESG (eco-shmeco) craze isn't helping restore infrastructure and demand.
Unfortunately, I headed out pretty late, which led to a bit of a disaster. For the first time in my life, I misread the train's departure time in my calendar, leading to a predictably sad outcome. I was ten minutes late, and the train left without me. Pretty painful — not only did the new ticket cost me a hundred bucks, but I barely managed to buy it. Everything was booked solid, I barely found a trip with an available seat.
This is the second time I've missed a train like this — the first time was in Italy, when my phone synced to the wrong time via the cellular network. Still, I didn't let it get me down. I sat in a cafe, drank some coffee, and hopped on a work call since I had nothing else to do anyway. Late that evening I arrived in Alicante, and being so exhausted, I didn't even bother going out, just went straight to sleep. The next day I tried to figure out what to do. I wanted to go for a hike, but the rain kept getting heavier. Then I discovered that Alicante has a pretty famous archaeological museum, the MARQ, which is exactly where I headed.
It's not a bad spot, it's been around for ages, and the exhibits cover different eras of the city's life. The city has been here god knows how long, founded all the way back in 324 BC. A ton of discoveries have been made in this region, and you can look at clothes, weapons, dishes, coins, and so on from various times in abundance. The museum also has a fair amount of interactive multimedia stuff, which is nice. I didn't get to see everything, though, since I definitely didn't want to be late for my flight.
Well, it was time to leave Spain. I didn't arrive at the airport too early. Experience tells me that two hours is always enough for a big, unfamiliar airport, and an hour and a half for a small one. For a familiar one, you can even show up just an hour before, if you know what the security lines will be like and whether there are turnstiles for boarding passes. Layovers are another story. These days there are such staff shortages that planes are often late, and it's better to have at least two hours between flights, absolutely no less.
How the flight went, I can't remember for the life of me; I just know how cold and windy it was in the Netherlands. Winter, what can you say. Luckily, my friends picked me up and drove me to their dacha on the border with Belgium. That's where they live, right at the dacha, and it's not the worst option. After the insulation and renovations, heating doesn't cost much, and the ceiling is higher now. The only "but" is that the dacha is located on a campsite, and even though it belongs to my friends, the land underneath it belongs to the campsite. They have to pay around 300 euros a month for the land. Back in our city, that's what renting a top-tier multi-room apartment in the center costs.
Who am I even writing these teasers for every time if no one subscribes?