Izquierda o Derecha?

A sweaty, tired pack mule for sure, but in good spirits after finding the town center.

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As I sit down to write my first entry describing my travelling escapades, a description of flight delays, phony maps and mad dashes through airports, I'm slightly humbled by the thought of Joni's current travel woes that have her trapped in London until tomorrow morning.  She got bumped off her flight and couldn't get booked on another one 'til the morning.  Probably had something to do with some passenger using a green tinted ziploc carry-on bag. 

But speaking of my own turmoil, two weeks ago, July 27th, I sat pensive on the Newark Int'l Airport tarmac.  I had just finished chewing all the flavor out of a piece of gum meant to quell my ear drums throughout take off, yet we had not moved.  The lightening was surging around us, and the kid in front of my seat was crying about something, possibly poor parenting.  Personally, I think she just wanted to anger the lady that didn't offer her aisle seat to the child's father.  After 3 hours waiting out the storm, four pieces of gum, most of a WSJ, a sudoku puzzle, and a feeble attempt at a crossword puzzle, we took to the sky.

Mirror-encased elevators make walking up the stairs of the Hotel Corregidor less appealing than walking 3 hours through the streets of Seville with a month's worth of luggage strapped to your back. Isn't it neat how the photo captures my frustration?!?

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Thank God, too, because there's only so long one can wait in anticipation of a in-flight movie like Aqamarine, the story of two 13 year old girls that discover the true meaning of friendship thanks to a mermaid with a nack for puns: "If you ever need me, just call me on my shellphone!"  Perfect.

Suggestion, flip the dial to channel 3, and watch the opening credits to the beat of Eminem's hot new track.  It makes the movie look like it's going to be kickass!

But despite the delay, I arrived in Dublin about 50 minutes before my flight to Malaga, and was able to scurry through the airport and make it to my gate with 5 minutes to spare.  After that, just a couple more buses, and I was wandering around Seville, looking for my hotel.

Fun fact:  In Seville, maps are not arranged on a normal compass rose.  North is West, South is East, etc.  This is helpful to know.  Now, once you realize this, and you start to walk in the correct direction, it's important to be using a map that actually points out the correct location of your hotel.  If for example, the map tells you the hotel is on the corner of two streets in one barrio, and the hotel is actually on a completely different street 8 blocks north, your map should be discarded immediately.  These maps are even less useful when traveling with 40 to 50 lbs of luggage strapped to your chest and back.

On a positive note, I tried out lots of high school Spanish, and even understood most everything I was told.  Got to admit though, it's a little disheartening when people keep telling you, "Yes, the map says you are very close, maybe it's just one block that way."   After combing that barrio for 2 hours, and deciding this would be the first time St Anthony has let me down, I asked the barista in Starbucks of all places, and she gave me very clear directions in Spanish to the hotel, which as I said, was no where even close to the map I printed off the website.

So, I'm sure Joni's plight with airports is on a path to surpass my travel pains, but for me, that was a hell of a test for my first 28 hours backpacking.