The Two Emmas

After a wonderful two weeks with the grandparents, we left. It was the first of September - the first day of our one month Interrail ticket that gave us unlimited travel around Europe. We got the train from Alicante back up to Barcelona. It was a Sunday, and we were meeting Polly and friends on Monday lunchtime. Karim had told her we wouldn't get there until Monday night, but he was lying. He wanted to surprise her at the airport, meeting her off her plane dressed in Sombreros and fake moustaches.

I often think he's one of the last true romantics.

Anyway, Sunday in Barcelona was a bit of a non event. All the shops were closed, and there was nothing for us to do. So we went to the airport that afternoon to wait. The way we figured it was that airports had things like food shops, and newspaper shops, and general entertainment facilities.

Sure, the fact that we were going to be there for seventeen hours was a mild concern, but we didn't really have anywhere else to be at that time so it didn't matter.

We got there in the afternoon, and tried to get some sleep on the grass outside. We'd been up since five thirty to catch our early train, and we certainly deserved a siesta. Our bags were in lockers, and we just had our small day bags with us.

When night came, we started to realise our error. You see, we had left our sleeping bags, clothes, washing bags, and our emergency bottle of Sambuca in the lockers. To get our bags out and put them in again would have cost more than the bottle of Sambuca had in the first place. So we stuck with what we had. We had a few beers in the bar, and then tried to get some sleep on a bench. My day bag was the only thing I had to use as a pillow, and it was conveniently full of right angles - books, packs of cards, packets of cigarettes, stuff like that. Add to that the fact that for some unknown reasons about thirty kids were running around for a few hours playing dodgems with luggage trolleys, and blend in the fact that the air conditioning made it pretty cold if you only happened to be wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and you end up with a pretty s***ty night's sleep.

At about three in the morning I decided to give up and have a cigarette instead. The girl on the next bench was obviously thinking likewise, and we ended up chatting. Her name was Emma, and she was going to be in the airport until Wednesday. By now it was Monday morning. She and her friend, also called Emma, had run out of money and had to just wait around in the airport for their flight back. It made the seventeen hours seem like a walk in the park.

We spent a few hours exchanging travelling stories, until Emma 2 woke up and informed Emma 1 it was her turn to sleep. So then I had to go through the same stories again, but it was something to do at least. Karim woke up shortly afterwards and the four of us spent the morning chatting. We discussed the relative merits of Terminals A, B and C: which was best for shopping, which bar had the cheapest drinks, which one had the most benches for sleeping on, that kind of thing. The things that are important to backpackers.

Then we just spent some time people-watching. This is a sport that is a wonderful distraction from the mundane. Train stations it's good, but airports it's even better. Everyone uses airports at one time or another. For most people it's just somewhere to wait for an hour before their flight. But for those of us that spend real 'quality' time there, it really opens your eyes. It's the change of perspective I like. We get a window into people's lives that they don't know is open.

Example: If you're a businessman, and you're flying in to this new city, you'll probably have someone meeting you. You'll probably come out of the arrivals area, looking for the company name, then you'll shake hands with the guy and go off smiling and chatting. Job done. But we get to see what the guy who was meeting you was doing before your plane arrived. We get to see the expression on his face, before the fixed smile removed it. We know what he was thinking. We know he hates his job, and in all probability, he hates you too. We know he's thinking that if he has to stand in Arrivals holding up a bit of paper one more time he's gonna just buy a gun and go on a kill crazy rampage. But you just get the smile, the handshake, and the offer of a hand with your luggage.

Anyway, we stayed chatting with The Two Emmas through the wee small hours. At eight, Karim went into Barcelona to buy some last minute additions for our costumes. At ten he was back and we started getting ready. The plane was due in at eleven. We met his girlfriend and her three friends in Hawaiian shirts, sombreros and moustaches painted on with black eyeliner.

It was all very lovely.