Barcelona traffic was interesting to say the least - 5 lanes with a million scoters weaving in and out, traffic lights every 100 yards and a one way system that took us in circles. We sought directions from a policeman to the Iscomar ferries as they weren’t signposted, unlike the other ferry companies, and were directed to an almost derelict unlit wharf, surrounded by containers and what looked like a half built multi-storey car park. After driving back to civilisation (and the other shiny ferry terminals), we were again directed to the wasteland, but this time a man appeared from the darkness to confirm that we were indeed in the correct place and that we should park up in the aforementioned car park, next to the rubbish and feral cats, to wait for the ferry to arrive. Other people gradually turned up, looking equally dubious about their ferry selection, and the Landy doors had to remain shut in order to keep out the hungry cats in search of food.
Anne got chatting to an English couple and a South African yacht skipper (Morné) and his girlfriend (Catherine?), and luckily discovered that we were missing our actual ferry tickets, only having the booking confirmation in hand. Morné kindly sped us in his car to the booking office to collect our tickets, and we arrived back just in time for our scheduled boarding. We didn’t need to rush though as we then had to wait an hour or so before we were ushered to line up to have our tickets checked, with a further hours wait until actual boarding, much to the annoyance of one angry German in a battered Peugeot 205 next to us (but he kept us entertained). The delay allowed the Iscomar staff to question our height, which at 2.6m due to the roof rack and roof tent apparently puts us into the “van” category. This is the reason we had rung up to book so that we could explain to the operator that we were rather tall, but he had apparently still booked us through as a car. Luckily they let us on (now we just have to hope they are as accommodating on the return). The local police were more interested in Morné’s visa status and almost deported him as he’s in Spain on an apparently expired 90 day visa, but whilst on the yacht he uses a seaman’s book, negating the need to use his visa - unfortunately he didn’t have the book with him so could not prove his status, although this time he was given the benefit of the doubt.
We eventually departed a little after midnight, rather than scheduled 2230, but beer was available onboard via a rather strange ticket system which you pay for at a wall mounted vending machine in the bar, and you then present the ticket to the barman who then gets you your desired drink. After seeing the lights of Barcelona grow small from the deck, we retired for the night to our bunk beds in our 2 berth cabin.
No comments:
Post a Comment