Back to home

Back home again :D

The flight was long, actually it was 3 flights. I met some interesting people on the flights, so the journey didn't feel too bad.

I started the flights home by practicing with a paraglider, Mendoza in front of my feet

The first transfer in Buenos Aires caused a surprise. The next flight (transatlantic) was from another airport. The travel time by airport bus was more than 90 minutes. The next bus was in an hour and scheduled to the correct airport only 40 minutes before my flight, too late to check in. I had no more Argentinian pesos. Taxis take only cash. There must be something organised, or is there?

I started running around asking all people if they were heading for the other airport. No. No. No. Finally after 15 minutes I found a man, not an English speaker, but clearly heading same way I was going. He had a voucher from his airline and it needed to be changed to an other document. I stuck to him. We found an other man also changing airports, Brazilian, and he even spoke some English. Great! They were even more in a hurry than I was. With the new documents (I did't have any) we headed for the stand where you can book a car. 

Your vouchers, por favor? The two men explained something about my missing voucher, we paid and we were promised a car in 5 minutes. After a long wait the driver finally arrived. We headed out for a nice, but very small car. My huge pile of luggage (all the sleeping bags, high altitude shoes, duvet jackets etc.) was almost too much to fit in. When I started packing the car myself the driver got mad. It didn't help when I explained that – having a big family – I am used to do impossible packing and that I am also capable of taking care of the driving, because we were now really in a hurry. Finally I understood to shut up and hid myself in the middle of the back seat and the trip could start. 

Luckily the driver knew his job. He drove 120 km/h, was able to pass from left and right and he arrived to the international airport in good time, I thought.

I was wrong. How can security checks tale so long and especially the passport control when leaving a country? The final call was blinking when I was still in the passport control line. I had made some friends in the line. We rushed through and started running to to gate, about a kilometer away. What nice exercise before a long flight! I really enjoyed that as I always do when I get an opportunity to run at the airport. When you have practically lost all the chances of making a flight there is only a possibility to win by running hard.

That we did this time; got the the plane before the gate closed. There was a nice (read talkative) person sitting next to me. We had a lot of fun and really interesting discussions. I loved to talk with him after being so long with people shouting "silence" at me if I ever opened my mouth. I tend to really split people into two camps, some really enjoy being with me and others hate it. Most of the group I was with on Aco could not stand me, but everyone else I met seemed to be really happy with me.

I may write more about that later, teams that turn on a member and bully them. It is an important topic all around the world, both at work and elsewhere.