February 19, 2025
Days 1 and 2: Victoria to Valencia
We set up the title for this page on the assumption that we would be travelling Victoria to Valencia, and that this travel would run over two days. We were part right, in that it will still take two days, but I am writing this bit from Paris. How can that be? Read on!
Our first travel day started normally, with us waking up, as always, too early. We made our Egg McBagels from the carefully put aside materials needed for this. Then we could turn our fridge totally off. No use running it empty for three months!
Travis played his part by checking to see if we were ready to go, a half hour earlier than the time we had been thinking of, which itself was insanely early, given our 3 p.m. first flight, Victoria to Calgary.
So in the end Travis dropped us at the airport with oodles of time to spare. That's the way we like it, making the rest of the story all the more poignant.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 2 | Link |
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
The flight from Victoria left on time and dropped us at Calgary with a reasonable time margin to catch the flight to Paris. We had asked for wheelchair assistance, and while there was assistance staff and wheelchairs around, and they had our name on their phones, they insisted they needed to wait for everyone to exit our plane, or something. After that, they basically evaporated. Ok, so I grabbed a chair and powered Dodie, with our gear piled on top of her, to the darn gate.
The flight to Paris actually boarded on time, but it was so cold outside that water they were trying to load onto the plane froze. By the time they got the water problem solved, the wings had iced, so they needed to drive over to de-icing. Apparently this drive meant they needed more fuel, so time was needed to put that on. The total effect of all this was that the plane left 1 1/2 hours late.
We had had three hours in Paris to make our flight to Valencia, but this was now cut in half. In Charles de Gaulle airport you really can not play that fast and loose, since the place is huge and is arranged like spaghetti.
We got a wheelchair assistance worker at Charles de Gaulle that really was excellent. She loaded Dodie and most of the gear up, and took off at high speed. Not only was her speed high, but she wove a convoluted path, on and off elevators, down corridors, and eventually to a train. A few stops on the train, and we got off for more elevators and corridors. Without this lady as guide, let alone as the power pushing the chair, the trip to the gate would have taken hours. Unfortunately, this fast lady deposited us in one of the dreaded assistance lounges. She could go no further, because now our trip involved a van, outside, on the regular road network. The lady running the lounge had no idea when the van would show up, and only under duress estimated the van trip at 10 minutes. Now we started to bounce up and down, because it was 2:20 and our plane would leave at 3:15. The van came, and after everyone was buckled in, it made its way slowly to an entirely separate terminal building.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
| Heart | 2 | Comment | 1 | Link |
| Heart | 1 | Comment | 0 | Link |
An assistance agent met the van at this building and conducted the hapless passengers inside. There was us, plus two ladies who thought they were going to get to Italy, and another for Frankfurt. All were dumped just inside the building and told to stay. The assistance agent then evaporated. After a while I asked an airport worker what our gate would be, and learned that we needed to pass security again to get to it.
I grabbed Dodie and off we went into security. Security took the opportunity to rip all our stuff apart, questioning our plastic bottles of hot chocolate and coffee mix, Dodie's tablet, my belt, whatever. And since Dodie's metal knees always trigger their alarms, they asked her to wait until they would find a female agent for the pat down.
After all this, we took off for the gate, now at least a straight run away, and not a maze of corridors and elevators. But by straight run I mean long and straight, and by run I mean it was clear we would have to run, as best we can. I must not be as young as before, because with the bags in each hand and trying to move as fast as possible, I started to wheeze. I idly wondered if this was going to be the time for a heart attack. But rather than slow down much, I was also thinking that this was a good way to find out early if I was going to make it through the hills of Spain on the bike.
I made it to the gate (with Dodie trailing behind) I think just at 3:15, the published departure time. But we were met by an Air France agent who on verifying that we were us, rather peevishly asked where we had been and what had we been playing at. In any event, the plane doors were closed.
But don't worry, he said, we'll fix it, just follow me. With this he took off at a gallop (or it seemed like a gallop to us). "Whoa mister, hold up" we yelped. "Ok, just take your time", he said, and took off into the distance and out of sight. We eventually tracked him down, at the Air France service desk, but not before hesitating for some time before a door that we were not sure we could go back through if it was wrong.
At the service desk the staff told us that there was a final flight to Valencia today, leaving at 8 p.m. and arriving around 11 p.m. But the Metro closes before that, we protested. So take a taxi to your hotel, was their helpful suggestion.
So that's how I got this brief vacation in Paris, complete with a nice salad and chocolate cake, while we wait. Not funded by Westjet, though. We should have asked them about that.
I also have a slightly amusing Europe is not Canada story to add here. I took a break to find the toilet, and followed a sign showing a male image to the right and female to the left. But the actual rooms were arranged in the reverse, males to the left. I went right. It reminds me of an old story told by a standup comic. On taking a similar wrong turn at a swimming pool, he says "Close your eyes girls, I'm coming through". In this case I was using a stall, but when I went to wash my hands it dawned on me that there was something wrong about the other clients! Well, I don't think the French really care.
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 8 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 5 |
3 days ago
3 days ago
3 days ago
2 days ago
2 days ago