So aside from having the Macdonald’s breakfast and enjoying the limited buffet in the lounge, I managed to get through the journey without being too naughty, by which I mean I didn’t eat any of the sweets that we bought in duty free.
By the time we got off the plane my legs were shot. The extra leg room seats are better than the alternative, but when at home on the sofa I’m moving and repositioning every 5 minutes because the arthritis in my knees starts to do a number on me if they’re in the same position for too long, then even with the extra couple of inches plane travel just isn’t comfortable.
Getting through the airport at Hurghada was an experience to say the least. I can only assume they have absolutely zero faith in their staff because literal feet after having your papers checked by one person they are being checked again by someone else, and again, and so on. It’s ok though, once we’re done in the airport it is smooth sailing because we have a private transfer waiting for us, or so we thought.
The last time Vikki and I traveled abroad we had a private transfer arranged, and when leaving the airport in Crete I had to go hunting for our driver because he wasn’t waiting with the rest of the drivers with our name on a board. Surprise surprise, we exit the airport and go by one driver after another, one name board after another, nada, zilch. There are two guys left, one with a few names written down, which surely can’t be us because we have a private transfer, and another guy who I assume was searching for his lost love by shouting “Maxine Maxine” over and over. It is possible that he was advertising his “taxi taxi” services but I prefer my version.
To our surprise, our name was on the last board, but the man holding the board wasn’t our driver, he would summon our driver now. So tired and aching we waited in the stifling heat, with kids desperate to know what is happening, and we waited, and we waited. I asked the man where our driver was, 5 minutes. after 6 minutes I asked again, 5 minutes. Then I was introduced to another guy, not our driver, but it was his minibus… Then we wait a little longer. Eventually it turns out that our driver was waiting at Terminal 2, not Terminal 1 where we were waiting. Eventually he arrived, we piled in and off we went, more than ready to hit the sack so that we can start our holiday off fresh in the morning.
Pickalbatross as a company is more confusing than a countdown conundrum. They couldn’t manage their way out of a paper bag. Seriously, how they are the successful hotel company that they are astounds me, not because of the quality of their hotels, but because of their management and organisational skills. Why oh why would the best idea be to assign rooms once guests arrive, guests who you have known were going to arrive for the last year, guests who specifically booked rooms in specific parts of the hotel. Anyway, I’m jumping ahead. When we arrive at the check-in desk we are greeted with a wait, then a longer wait, and eventually we are told to go to the restaurant, have something to eat, then come back. Not impressed we head to the restaurant, pick at the slim offerings available at this time of night, and hurry back to the reception desk. Annoying, but maybe it is Egyptian hospitality, they know we have had a long travel day, they want to make sure we are fed before the kitchen shuts, I guess we can’t complain, except we are then directed to the bar and told to relax and have a drink. Nope, I want my bed thank you. Turns out they don’t have rooms for us close to each other, or where we are supposed to be. After ducking and diving to avoid all the fobbing off that was trying to be done, we eventually got keycards to a couple of rooms on the other side of the hotel, far away from where we should be but to argue it would eat into our holiday. The rooms weren’t bad, and over the week an unintended perk to the rooms became apparent, but for now we were heading to bed.
All in all not a great travel day, but there were some little victories, like I resisted the temptation of devouring a family sized bag of crispy M&Ms and an even bigger bag of Haribo. Now to see how I fare on an all inclusive holiday where I have no accurate way of tracking my calorie intake. I pity the scales that will face me on my return.