Happy Birthday (yesterday), Dylan.  Tried you on Skype, but figured you were out galavanting.  We're off to Barcelona tomorrow, plunder in our sights.  You'll have to wait till July for delivery.  We plan to go to the Picasso museum, and possibly Joan Miro's, hit some eateries that Nick recommended and I have to go to a printing firm to get digital files of a painting and then contract for a small run of prints.  


The citrus trees are in full bloom and the air is perfumed beyond my experience.  Cycling around with Is this afternoon, it was almost an olfactory overload.  Great day, except for high winds picking up a lot of dust from the newly-harrowed orchards and blowing pollen everywhere.  Allergies took a hit.  

I'm starting to find/recover a few of my images from various sources, cloud, flash drives and this machine.  The old laptop is resting (clean) in Westbrook, awaiting further tweaking and twitching.  I finally got the drivers for my camera loaded on this and should be able to post future pictures.  Fingers crossed.  Here's one of Dyl and H.

Monday the 16^th of April, 1500 hr: Sitting here, killing time at Logan Airport, wondering what is going to go wrong next.  It’s been an inauspicious start to a long, potentially error-fraught trip.  First thing-my taxi was late.  They had forgotten my call of last night, so at 1100, my 1030 cab rolled in.  No apology, but a quick trip to catch my 1130 bus.  The cabbie’s “No tip?” gave me the opening I’d been waiting for years to fill.  “I’ll give you a tip.  If you’re in a hurry, don’t call Westbrook Taxi.”

Next, my large bag was taken off at the wrong terminal.  I saw it sitting on the curb, all lonely and unclaimed as the driver boarded the bus.  When he asked what airlines we were all using, and I replied ” United-that’s my bag out there.”  He stated that somebody had put the wrong tag on my bags.  I replied that I’d used the tags the ticket desk had given me.  He told me that I needed to get off at Terminal C, not A. 

At the United desk I disturbed three chatting McJobbers by asking a couple of questions.  Turns out, I had been at the right terminal, the mix-up being that United had just eaten up Continental and nobody was sure what was going on.  So they checked in my bag, assuring me that it would be checked through to Madrid.  I don’t expect to ever see it again.  While checking myself in, using the machine that the loquacious three were irritated at helping me with, I kept seeing messages that one or more of my (two) flights may have been overbooked and offering me $150 funny money if I wanted to take a later flight.  N.F.W.

I then had my first golf cart ride to Terminal A, where the TSA was waiting to sink its teeth into me.  Apparently there is an alert about terrorists beating cabin crew with bicycle chains, and I had to explain why I had one in my carry-on.  Simple, it would have made my checked bag overweight and it was the heaviest small item that could be switched.

With one hour in between flights in Newark, I think I can guess what the next horror-show will be.  I think I’ll go get a beer…or two…

Algorfa 18/04 at 1950 hr. 

Rolled into Callosa yesterday about 1700.  I had all my luggage and was essentially on schedule by the optimistic timetable I had worked out ahead.  Nearly missed the train in Madrid as I was catching up on some Zs and didn’t hear the announcement.  Nodded off several times on the train, waking myself by snoring.  Fortunately it wasn’t by drooling on myself as I used to do in Economic Geography 101.  Pulled into Alicante with ten minutes to buy a ticket and catch the 1605 to Callosa.  The warning lights were flashing as I dragged my suitcases at speed to the train; and was seated for a minute when it pulled out.

My 0700 alarm wasn’t set, but I did crawl out of the sack at 0830 and proceeded to fix two bikes, cycle to Cyclogical for a seat post, cut it and re-assemble it for Russell, then hit the road again with him and Is for a total of 28 kliks.  San Miguel time now.  It’s good to be back-wish you were all here.

About to leave Rochester, N.Y. after a three-day visit with Andre and Brooke.  In celebration of Passover/Easter, we reluctantly forced ourselves to eat and drink too much; stay up too late and get little exercise.

One memorable moment was my first Garbage Plate, a local "delicacy"(?), which consisted of piled macaroni salad, cole slaw, cheeesburger sans bun and split hot dog covered with mustard and chopped onions.  I declined on what was offered as "meat sauce".  After my failed effort to clean my plate, I was informed that the meal was invented as a late-night effort to soak up alcohol.  Having got the order wrong, we then went to LUX to try and set our systems right.  Our morning after photo tells the whole story.