The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.
The clue to this post is in the title, which is a clumsy attempt to wrap multiple concepts into a single pithy phrase.
Among my resolutions this year were to write and shoot more. Rather dismally I have failed to respond well to my own resolutions. This does of course make choosing next year’s resolutions so much easier, as I plan to have another go.
However, I am happy to report that I have read a lot this year. And I will write about that also. In due course, the fullness of time, and so on.
I have also travelled a great deal. A very great deal. And, that is also something I intend to write about on the same terms as above.
I am not comfortable with my personal carbon footprint this year. So, trees will need to be planted. Probably enough to stock a decent sized hillside.
What prompted this post was my need to share (other than on my FB page) my journey home.
To put this in context, I left home on Monday and flew (via London) to Abuja, from there I flew to Accra. Yesterday, I spent in Lagos, doing that work thing that pays the bills.
I have been warned many times that getting to the airport on time is no trivial undertaking when the airport in question is MMIA in Lagos. Of course, I have always dismissed such advice assuming it was part of the bravado and tendency to exaggeration that labels Lagosians.
I may well write more about that. But, for now, know that the taxi ride from my hotel in Ikoyi to MMIA took four long hours. Most of which was spent on a low bridge joining the island to the mainland parts of Lagos. A bridge that was being derided on the radio as we waited (and waited) for not having been (well) maintained in the last 25 years.
We did, just in time, make it and I even had a glass of wine in the Lounge, I even received a cheery birthday greeting at the checkin desk. I also felt guilty that my driver had to work his way back through the same crazy traffic although happily he had found a fare for the ride back.
My flights from Lagos to London and then on to Madrid were largely uneventful. Mostly.
So, wearily, and in need of a stiff dram in front of a roaring log fire, I took the metro to the center of Madrid and boarded the Avanza bus homeward bound to Salamanca.
At this stage, what could possibly go wrong?
As the photos below testify, the bus sprang a leak in something important which resulted in an unexpected rural interlude.
I even managed to watch a shepherd and his dog work with their flock. The bells were both chiming and charming.
The driver and all of his passengers were remarkably calm and civil about it. A lesson in itself.
So, expect more writing. Or not. We’ll see what we’ll see.
a flocking good vista
a face like the back of a bus, ah wait…
comfort food (so not tapas)
All photos shot with iPhoneX with zero edits. Post written and published from WP app on same iPhoneX, and uploaded whilst sitting on the following bus that stopped to pick us up.