It’s been a while, I know I said I would be more frequent in my posting; but I didn’t factor in the fact that my laptop could be confiscated (spoiler: it has). And you may be thinking: then how are you posting if it’s been confiscated? Well, that is quite a simple matter, I am currently typing this post on my phone (I didn’t do this before because I hate typing on my phone and I thought I would get my laptop back sooner, guess not). And I’ll then either get my friend to post this or I’ll have to download the WordPress app (which is going to be difficult because basically every app doesn’t run on iOS7) but I’ll sort that out when I come to it. Either way, this will be posted somehow even if the format of it will be very dodgy (there won’t even be spellcheck). Once I get my laptop back, I’ll fix everything and post all my drafts that are on there too. Anyway, I’m currently in Sardinia (I’ll be leaving in a few days though) but I thought I would tell you guys about my journey to where I’m currently writing and maybe another post about what I’ve experienced.
So let’s start right from the second I left the house. My fam and I took a cab to Gatwick because suitcases and the tube during rush hour is never a pretty sight and I found out the driver was from ‘Rochester’ and I was internally screaming because it is far too soon to mention the past, so I slept away the internal pain.
At the airport we had to check-in on one of the computer things and my parents couldn’t figure out how to use it and they wouldn’t let me help them because they were dealing with ‘sensitive documents’ and clearly I’m not to be trusted. In the end we had to ask someone at the desk and when it was my passport we hit some difficulties. For some reason the system had me down as a ‘refugee’ and the lady was about to ask me what my nationality was before she say the would ‘British’ on my passport. So, yeah. Then I had the most expensive bacon roll I have ever had. The reason being my father forced me to eat a bacon roll at a place where I had to pay £15 admission (but the food was free). It may sound crazy as I love my food, but I tend to avoid eating as much as possible before a flight. I really don’t like flying as all my friends who sat near me on the journey to-and-from Iceland know too well.
My flight was also delayed a good 30 minutes because they forgot to clean it the night before. So, yeah. And the longer I was waiting to board the plane. The more anxious I was getting. I don’t mind flying. I just don’t like the fact that I’m not in control of the physical movements that my body is feeling especially internally and this flight was the worst flight I have been on since I was a kid. I thought we were going through some major turbulence for the majority of the flight and at the end of the landing, only people in the back row were applauding out of politeness. The dude sat next to my dad looked like he was praying. Honestly, I was surprised I didn’t puke on this flight.
That wasn’t even the end of my journey. This holiday, my father decided to rent a car. Let’s just say that my father can drive around substantially, but a few more driving lessons on road safety wouldn’t be too bad. Back to the most treacherous car journey of my life. First it began with my dad unable to start the cat because he couldn’t read the instructions on the dashboard (which were in Italian) then he drove on the wrong side of the road on the way out and almost crashed into another car that blared it’s horn accordingly. We proceeded to get lost for 40 minutes as there were very few road signs and the GPS did not realise loads of roads had been closed off for construction. But once we got in the right direction it went well; until the forest fire.
That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, on the day of our arrival there was a forest fire. You see, at first I thought it was just a cloud of pollution when I first saw it. It was red and dusty so I thought there was an area of red dust somewhere (I don’t know, I’m not very smart) and at the time we weren’t that worried about it. We were more worried about toppling off the cliff that we were driving right beside and falling to our untimely deaths. What’s worse is that the locals, who were hella confident with their driving, we’re speeding up and down these cliffs and more often than not drove over the line on the road and went onto our side. We were, to put it simply, absolutely shitting our pants. Then on the occasion that I was looking down the perilous cliffs, I noticed that it wasn’t red dust, but actually smoke coming out of a forest-y area. At the next petrol station we stopped to go check out the ‘view’ and also relax out muscles that we all had been tensing for the past hour at least (apart from my brother who was the lucky arse that slept peacefully throughout this entire ordeal). As we tried to breathe normally again, this middle-aged woman began warning us about the road block in Italian, but alas, none of us understood Italian, but luckily another tourist that spoke English and knew the situation was nearby and told us about another route. Back up the treacherous cliffs we went. Shitting ourselves once again.
Apart from that. It was a very safe and peaceful journey. I can only wait in excitement for the journey back to the airport and home.
Eagerly awaiting the journey home, but for other reasons too,