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la clusaz - geneva - gatwick - heathrow - san francisco - genoa place
The scene in the rear-view mirror was a stunning as ever as we turned our back on the blue skies of La Clusaz for pastures new and a grand adventure of a lifetime.
The journey to the airport was uneventful and the lack of traffic at the Swiss border was a surprising bonus considering the time of the day, which meant we had time at the airport for coffee and croissants with our driver and temporary dog sitter Chris.
The promise of a month long international adventure, the hours spent probing the internet for information and the escalating debits on the credit card to confirm our itinerary were all that was stopping us from staying put at home in the company of good friends to enjoying the fifty centimetres of powder forecast after our departure,
A smooth, timely and uneventful flight took us to Gatwick where we met with a minor hiccup.
As we had emerged from a dog filled customs hall with a relieved looking teenage son, we had scanned the waiting crowd for any sign of our surname. A clean crisp printed version meant we would be in luck and experience a comfortable vinyl scented journey to Heathrow. If it was hand written it was likely that we would be bounced along the M25 in the drivers family car complete with furry dice and empty crisp packets. Our guest transport at home was a mixture of the two.
But there was no welcoming sign and no driver to whisk us quickly away to catch our connecting flight to San Francisco. So the doubts started creeping in at this point and I berated with myself for cocking it all up. Why hadn't we just flown directly to Heathrow? The answer was simple. It all happened when a magical moment occurred . I had a very rare (although my husband would disagree) blonde moment combined with an all to frequent purse tightening session. The outcome was the decision to wait for the next EASYJET sale and the complete failure to remember that Easyjet don't fly to Heathrow - durrrrr!
By the time this epiphany has passed BA's flight prices had risen through the roof and we were faced with a very weak link in our transport plans. All my fears became reality in those first fifteen minutes at Gatwick airport on a surprisingly sunny Tuesday morning..
After a further ten minutes and an irate phone call to the cab company a small Indian man came rushing over to us waving a hand written sign to validate his participation in our adventure. Sure enough a Renault scenic was waiting for us in the short stay car park,. As we filled his boot to the brim with our luggage he informed us that his tardiness had been caused by bad traffic on the M25. I happily told him that we had allowed an hour and half for the journey to Heathrow 'just in case', as we had spent many stationary hours on the M25. He didn't looked relieved and I began to bubble up internally.
After an miraculous hour we arrived at Heathrow, checked in and hit the duty free shops. So we now have a new iPad! Maybe it would have been a blessing if the M25 had been more congested.
The teenage sons and husband were refuelled with what could have been their 2nd breakfast or 1st lunch of the day, depending on how you view the time difference between airports. With their hairy feet and huge appetites they would bear an uncanny resemblance to hobbits if it was not for their 6ft plus frames.
The two younger grumpy elongated hobbits had decided that they could not sit together for the next leg of the journey, so hubbie and I were once again separated. It may have been an cunning manoeuvre in order to play with new ipad or a lack of brotherly love!
I wasn't entirely unhappy with the situation as the youngest hobbit and I found ourselves on a row with an empty seat for the entire the journey. Alas it didn't managed to stop the progression form hobbit to grumpy bear even after a 2nd lunch and 3rd lunch/1st dinner.
We were welcomed to the big US by long immigration queues and hard faced officials. Our border guard had an interesting mannerism tick which made him sound like a whinnying horse and I had to fight to contain myself as were all photographed and finger printed. The luggage was on it's 60th conveyer belt trip and was having more fun than us when we dragged it off to customs.
Thankfully BART was waiting us and took us into the heart of the city. We were entertained on the monorail train system by a vocal black lady eclectically dressed in patent black wellies and
Oxfam shop rejects. She voiced her concerns over her neighbours small feet, requested dollar bills of the other passengers but gave my rabble of 6ft hobbits and bears a wide birth.
We hit the city of San Francisco as dusk descended, absorbing the sights and smells as we climbed the sodden streets to our apartment. The local corner shop owner pointed us in the right direction when we stopped to by beer and milk and after a minor confusion with the location of the front door we finally dropped our bags on a homely carpet a full 20 hours after leaving home. With one more challenge to complete before bed hubbie and I went out to forage for food for the hobbit/bears and thanks to Pete at North Beach Pizza we had a feast!
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