We were up
at 5:30, left at 6;30, stopped to say goodbye to tia Ana, and arrived at the
rental car place shortly after 7:00. Strangely, the guy that was supposed to be
there to give us a lift to the airport didn’t show up, so we just dropped the
rental car key in their mailbox and took a taxi to the airport, no big deal.
But Ana did say she was going to call the owner and ask him what kind of
rinky-dink operation he was running.
Ana handed
our documents to the check-in person and she punched a few keys, looked
confused, looked back at us and said, “You aren’t on this flight.”
“What do you
mean?” asked Ana.
“You are
checked in for the flight tomorrow to Madeira, not today.”
“That’s
impossible!” Ana exclaimed. She pulled out all our documents - the flight
confirmation said April 10th, our Madeira rental car was for April 10th, our
apartment was for April 10th, everything said April 10th.
“We are
definitely booked for the flight on April 10th, what’s going on?” She asked.
“Today is
April 9th.”
We’ve done a
fair bit of traveling, and continue to make rookie mistakes, but I think this
is the first time we went to an airport on the wrong day! Ana was totally
embarrassed. We asked how much it was going to cost to change the flight, and
we were looking at over 500 euro so we tucked our tails behind our legs, walked
over to where Pedro and tio Manuel were waiting to send us off, and explained
to stunned faces how we got the date wrong.
We taxi’d
back to the rental car place, got our key back from the staffer there who said,
“Well, this was good training for tomorrow’s actual departure.” Ana was feeling
bummed out, but then we realized that we had just gained a BONUS DAY in the
Azores, and since it was going to be beautiful and clear outside, we could get
in a beach day! We returned to tio Manuel’s house and the kids and Ana had
short nap while I pounded out a few journals (I usually try to write every day,
but the days here have been packed with activity so I’ve done very little
writing). At 10:30 we went for a long walk that ended up at the Praia Populo
and we plopped ourselves in the sand and soaked up the beautiful sunshine.
The kids had
borrowed a ball from the cousins and were playing soccer on the beach. As I was
watching, I saw Magnus wind up and boot the ball as far as he could into the
ocean. I don’t know exactly what his plan was to retrieve it, as he was wearing
jeans, but the two of them stood there scratching their heads as the ball was
pulled by the falling tide straight out to sea.
“Mom!”
Stella yelled as she ran back to us, “Magnus lost the ball!”
Magnus was
on the beach trying to talk a local dude in swim trunks into swimming out to
retrieve the ball, which was now at least 100 metres out. The guy wasn’t going
for it. Magnus came over and tried in vain to explain how he accidentally
hoofed the ball out into the ocean, but nobody was going for it. We agreed this
was the second disaster of the day, and that the ball was probably going to end
up getting stuck in a sperm whale’s blow hole and suffocating him until he
finally blew it a hundred feet into the air. This was actually the third
disaster of the day, as during our walk down Stella had to pee so badly she was
nearly in tears, and Magnus kept making her laugh, so she had to run to the
beach restaurant to avoid wazzing her pants.
“Even if I
had peed my pants,” Stella explained, “It wouldn’t have been a disaster…just a
minor laundry issue.”
After I went
for a refreshing ocean swim, we walked up to the beach restaurant for a late lunch
and a cold drink. Magnus ordered the most expensive hamburger on the menu and
proclaimed it to be the best burger he’s ever eaten in his life. I ordered the
pork plate, which arrived as several slabs of thin pork steaks topped with an
easy-over egg and fries, all on a gigantic plate that only half fit onto the
small plastic table, already occupied by other plates and glasses. Well I took
my fork and knife and began slicing into that delicious stack of meat when my
plate turned over, and the easy-over egg flipped easily over and onto my jeans
and shirt, leaving thick strings of yellow yolk all over my freshly laundered
clothes. “Cleanup on aisle 2!” I said. “Going to need a crotch swab over here!”
I tried to carefully mop it up, but those damn non-absorbent European table
napkins (that seem to be made primarily of recycled plastic) just mashed it
into my clothes and made a worse mess.
“There’s
your disaster for the day Dad!” said Stella, laughing.
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