I hate leaving it is so final, everything is packed; we finished off the croissants and biscuits from yesterday, then nothing left but to wait for the taxi. Calling the taxi this time had been a doddle, the girl at the other end understood everything I said, either she was good or I was getting better, I like to think the latter but no doubt someone will put me down again on my next trip.
It was a glorious Buenos Aires morning; I have come to expect rain on my departure, because that is what we have had on every trip up until now. I like to believe that “Buenos Aires llorar por salir de los Galeses” or Buenos Aires cries for the leaving Welsh. Maybe this time she knows we will be back, I take it as a good sign.
We had a very nice Renault taxi not painted the usual black and yellow, we also discovered another advantage of stretching my time here, that leaving on a Sunday meant we were not snarled up in traffic for an hour on the way to the airport. Air France has been so efficient on our travels that I had decided to leave on Sunday, meaning I would arrive home Monday afternoon, tight when I am at work Six in the morning Tuesday, but the savings on air fare coupled with the extra day (and night) in Buenos Aires made the risk worthwhile.
Everything went smoothly again, but again I could not sleep on the plane. How could I? When you consider we left Buenos Aires at half past five in the afternoon and arrived in Paris at eight the next day. Taking into account the three hours difference to Europe our breakfast was served at the Buenos Aires equivalent of three in the morning, about when we should have been going to bed, had I been to a Milonga. I watched four films that I probably would have turned off at home, so much so that I cannot remember even their titles.
This of course meant we fell asleep on the tarmac of Paris airport waiting to take off again. Woken with a jolt as the aircraft went into full thrust for take off, I was now incapable of any more sleep or even rational thought. When the stewardess came round with drinks I elbowed Viv from her slumber, the stewardess saying “non non” (She was French of course). Viv, fortunately was not annoyed as she was thirsty, but I did feel a tinge of guilt.
The journey after that was a blur, when I awoke in Gresford, I apologised to our taxi driver for our lack of company. He gets my recommendation as the smoothest driver out there, and the best hours sleep I had in almost over twenty four hours.
So now I am back to work and the frustration of having to work nights when I should be tangoing. I did make the Monday class in Chester though, and because of my long absence, I got some surprised looks from people wondering who this newcomer was.
Sharon can appear abrupt, but I know her heart is in the right place when she stood pointing to the door and ordering me to “Go home to bed” at half past ten.
I slept the sleep of the innocent and actually awoke before my five o’clock alarm. Workday today, I am not looking forward to this.