Even after traveling for 26 hours straight and moving house for the 3rd time in 4 months, I can’t sit still. So, I landed in Santiago, ditched my suitcase in the apartment, slept for 10 hours, and then ran off to Portugal for a spontaneous bit of fun in the last of the sun!
Getting to Porto is a royal pain in the ass on a Saturday, just saying. The normal buses don’t run so my only option was the 5:45 AM train from Santiago–which I made by virtue of being completely jet lagged. When I changed to the Portuguese train in Vigo the grumpy conductor lectured me about not buying a ticket in the station. Not because he thought I was trying to pull something, but because it costs more to buy a ticket on the CP (Portuguese) trains. Yeah, the conductor was trying to save me money. I take back all (okay, half) the bad things I’ve said about RENFE!
In other news, Portuguese airports have the stupidest employees in all of Europe (possibly the world, but I need to collect more data to be sure). See, the last time I flew through Porto a moron on power trip confiscated my toiletries because the 100 mL bottles didn’t have labels. Yep, the person whose jobs entails handling 100 mL bottles everyday couldn’t say if my liquids were the right size or not.
Well this time I was ready for them. Everything I owned had a label on it and was in the little baggy. And…I still got flagged down. The two morons in question demanded I test my hairspray on my arm–to prove it wasn’t evil terrorist juice. Why? Because “it’s not labelled.”
Thing is: the f***ing bottle is 40 mLs. And yes, it is labelled. The label happened to be on the back, where apparently Portuguese employees don’t look. Lucky for me, this wasn’t decided to be my fault and I got through with all my shit.
One quick flight down the Iberian peninsula later, I made it to Faro and promptly left the airport in search of a sunny spot in which to NAP!