A shuttle bus is a short walk from our B&B and we are there in plenty of time. We wait, ignored by the driver. We ask and pay, he puts our bags in the bus and starts off without us. We jump on as the bus leaves. As people get on at other stops, sometimes the door closes, sometimes not. Turning a corner the door slides open. We close it, no fuss. I hang on tight - I am next to the door that doesn't shut.
We have an hour to spare - relax. We arrive and scan our luggage and go through controls. No amount of looking shows our flight number. We check. The gruff lady says next airport. Six kilometres away. Take taxi.
The taxi driver takes us happily to the other international airport and takes the last of our money (and we are thankful we had money at all)!
Right airport. Lines and checks, more checks and long, long lines. Time ticks. I stress.
Luggage checked in - they will not leave without us now.
On the plane and glad to leave mother Russia. There is a fire burning beside the runway. We take off. The Russian airline supplies a meal. Cheese and bread and salami. A hot meal. Sour sheep yoghurt. Water. We are thankful but could not taste the food.
The patchwork quilted land looms. Parisienne fields grace the scene, the clouds scud happily sending shadows across the land. Tall steeples punctuate copses and neat villages intersperse the green and yellow. I want to kiss the soil.
Paris airport was neat and clean and exceptionally well organised. The easiest airport so far. A pink Eiffel Tower had maps. The metro was not to hard to find. The helpful information people smiled :) We smile.
Good thing you found the right airport. Eeeek!
ReplyDeleteeeek indeed. Very stressful.
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