Sunday 8 March 2015
March. Winter sun. Last year Lanzarote, the year before Marrakech. Always good to get away. Except the day before we go the sun puts it hat on and comes out for a glorious warm sunny day. Which seems a faint memory at 2:45 in the morning when the alarm goes off. Gatwick here we come – except that thanks to some unexpected and unwarned road closures we end up closer to Heathrow than Gatwick in the first instance.
Now Thomson may be the best travel company in the world but they have really not got the hang of online check in. We all do it so we are checked in. So all we need to do at Gatwick is hand the bags over to an airline person for weighing and labelling – 30 seconds per bag. What we do not need under any circumstances is a 30 minute check in queue, where because Thomson cannot have enough check in clerks staff are instead walking up and down the lines calling for people on flights which are currently close to boarding. This meant I did NOT get my promised breakfast at the Caviar House. Thomson – this was not a busy day. Please get it sorted either doonline check in and mean it – or make sure all the desks are (wo)manned.
Also to my fellow travellers – wake up – even if it is six in the morning. Getting through security requires you to get your bag and laptop in the boxes and yourself through the portal so that the security team can either pat you down or wave you through. Not being ready to go through security so that the security people can stand around chatting and causing a queue behind you is unforgiveable, especially when my blood sugar levels are already falling and I have not had a proper night’s sleep and I am not going to get my breakfast.
Great flight down to Malaga where we are through passport control and in the hall waiting before the conveyor belt starts up. Onto the coach and an hour’s journey along the coast to Nerja. Bit of fooling around with being dropped off and then collected by a minibus to get close to the hotel and then a walk through the pedestrianised plaza to Hotel Balcon d’Europa.
Descending to level zero in the hotel brings us to the sea and lunch. A couple of beers and the local fried fish. The sun is shining brightly and we are at the seaside. What more could you want?
Unpack and then a snooze. Then a bit of walk around some of the town but we return to the hotel as it is time for “happy hour”. Two glasses of Rioja. And a bill for two Euros plus nuts. So another two glasses of red and this time two plates of olives. Total bill four Euros. Clearly inflation has not yet got out of hand in Spain.
Downstairs to the restaurant for dinner. Nothing special or outstanding – good solid fare.