10:00am: on the road to Valencia! Had to have our now-traditional McD's cafe latte macchiato for breakfast, accompanied by yesterday's half eaten croissant for mother and cherry pop tarts por moi c/o Myke (perfect breakfast, thank you!)
11:00am: sun is beaming through the windscreen and Barry White is blaring out of the car (mother's musical preference at this stage) as we drive through another hill. Not over a mountain - as you can see:
No doubt mother starts hyperventilating. She then loses any possibility of accurate vocabulary:
"I've got multitude sickness!!"
Dear lord, I think we've lost her.
13:30pm: Bienvenido a Valencia! Not the easiest of cities to negotiate heavy traffic on the right side of the road; we compare it to Hype Park Corner.
13:32pm: had yet another embarrassing moment when mother has a small flirtatious encounter with two almost-underage male drivers when she tried to get in their lane. Lots of horn-honking and whooping followed (from the boys, not us, obviously).
13:35pm: pulled up outside hotel in a fluster because we couldn't find the parking and didn't realise we were in the taxi rank. Suddenly an angry cab-driver seeps into the space behind us and honks his horn. The logical thing to do here is move. Not for all, apparently. Jumping out of the car instantly, mother marches over to the taxi and harshly explains the situation to him (in English) and then, as if to justify any law-breaking, she says; "I HAVE A GB STICKER! I AM FROM ENGLAND!"
13:40pm: unloaded 3 suitcases on wheels, 3 holdals and 2 handbags and scuttered through the busy shopping centre with all the luggage. Couldn't find the way out to the hotel, so instead of heading to la oficina de información turística, mother literally runs over to the two police officers and starts the awful heavy hand gestures to get directions to our hotel. No, the lovely Spanish police officers did not sigh and grunt and point. They actually escorted us to our hotel. I quite like Spain. Mother quite likes the Policia.
14:00pm: having trampled through the city centre with 7 million bags I thought I was going to die. Heat stroke. Yes, I'm pretty sure I got heat stroke. In January. Cold shower and Evian por favor.
Let's hope heading 3 hours south of here doesn't fry me. Oh god, what happens in August?! May need a companion to come to Alaska and sit on an iceberg with me for the summer, any takers?
Mother's quote of the day: (I think we all know that, don't we?)
Last stop tonight, home run tomorrow!
Abrazos,
Charlotte-Elizabeth xoxo
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