Traveling to España

(post written by Charlie on Monday, September 21, 2008)

¡Hola Amigos!

Well, we've made it! At least, I'm assuming we made it. I'm writing this on our regional trip between Düsseldorf and Madrid on Lufthansa. It's a cute little plane, a little smaller than most Westjet planes, and we're having a hard time believing that it's France we're flying over right now, and not Saskatchewan or Manitoba. I'm sure if we were flying at 5000 ft instead of 30,000 ft. we would see quickly the difference between the canola of the True North, Strong and Free and the vineyards of the French countryside. Alas, we're at 30,000 feet and all we can see are small towns at a distance and prairie landscape.

Early childhood memories caused me to doubt the quality of Lufthansa as an airline. I have very specific memories of sitting in the four passenger section of a 777 and having two rather unattractive German flight attendants yelling in German at one another from opposite ends of the section, and somehow feeling like I was the one being picked on. They were probably just telling each other that they were out of the beef option of the dinner that night, but to me it all sounded like I was in trouble. I tried to put my doubts aside as we boarded the airplane, which did not take long. Even in coach, we were treated like kings and queens! Although we were very impressed by the airline, we hadn't seen anything yet. We still had to see Germany!

When we arrived in Düsseldorf at 6:05, we had 25 minutes to get through customs and to our gate. Our flight was leaving at 6:45 but boarding was 20 minutes earlier than that. To compound matters, at 6:05, we were sitting four rows from the back of the Boeing 777 that we had flown from Toronto to Düsseldorf. As we left the plane, passed through security, cleared customs, and arrived at our gate in approximately 8 minutes, I uttered the words, , "Efficiency, thy name is Germany." I was floored! Between Lufthansa's speed and Düsseldorf's ability to supercharge their staff with lightning, we had time to leisurely use the washroom, for me to put my contacts in, and to enjoy looking at the handsome and beautiful Europeans sitting around us who made us look like schleps (is that Yiddish word or German—either way I think it fits). There was an extremely stylish young woman epitomizing European fashion, Spanish and German businessmen in designer suits and glasses, and me, wearing a Joe shirt bought at Real Canadian Superstore for what I thought was a pricy $5.99.

And now, here we sit, thirty-five minutes away from our home for the next 10 ½ months, enjoying coffee so strong and dark it makes Starbucks seem like a diner in Main Centre, Saskatchewan and flying over the French coast, enjoying the view of the Atlantic from the other side of the globe.

¡Adios!