A stairwell. Transition. A few days between the cruise and Madrid. So far from the Gatwick airport. The early morning flight, the extra bags, seeing Cristin at the bus, lines, lugging, my nervousness at the airport, and we’re off.
|Cristin at Gatwick:|
|Cristin waiting for the bus at Gatwick airport, in the dark, 5:30 in the morning, smiling, it was cold, she’ll be okay, and we left to get our flight. And she was okay. She got her flight, got home, she was happy to get home|
A sigh. Another chunk ticked off. The cruise done. Now the next chunk. Going to Granada. The airport at Malaga, hot, long line. What next? The transfer solution. Megan and Vange asleep, a well-built highway through a sunny dry landscape, a very old but somehow stylish city, cobblestone streets, the Alambra, a very nice hotel. El Ladron del Agua. And we have a beautiful room in this hotel, at the very top, with a beautiful view of the Alambra above us.
Stairwell, and transition, because it was a step in between. Granada was planned because it wasn’t Madrid. We had wanted to see it because of the way Paul talked about it. But it was a lot about helping Megan between Oxford and Madrid. Hair appointments. Laundry. It all worked. The hair guy, Pablo, stylish, trendy. The little old lady who did the laundry.