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Sadly, or perhaps just as well, the rain continued and so we spent the first day unpacking the bikes, so imagine my horror when I unzipped my bike bag and saw the angle of the handle bars relative to the bike frame as can be seen in the photo for this blog. I had visions of the front forks being realigned for anti clockwise track work, but no, just a bit of slippage on the post. All good.
Friday saw us out and about along the canals to Vo and home in the rain, the consequence of which will come in greater detail a little later.
Saturday, and off to Spain. Stefano very kindly drove us to the train station in Monselice where we took the train to Mestre, then bus to Marco Polo airport.
Well, it's true that Italy is a world of entertainment. Despite it being the only big blue bus in the square, with the words AERO BUS painted in huge letters the full length of the bus, there were still people (tourists) who seemingly couldn't figure out it was going to the airport. One American couple kept asking everyone who got on, how far it was to Coin, the large department store. I couldn't take it any longer so I suggested to them that unless they wanted to do some duty free shopping at the airport, they might like to get off and go to the bus info station and find out which bus they really needed. They seemed so appreciative!!
So off to the Airport and the chaos of Saturday morning departures. After an hour of queuing we were through and almost on our way.
With the onset of a man cold, I was feeling a bit sad and sorry for myself, (largely because no-one else was) and was looking forward to a sleep during the 2 hour flight to Barcelona.
At this point, it's probably best I don't elaborate, other than to say that I hit my head on the overhead luggage lockers and collapsed into my seat, where I slept for at least the first hour, made better by an ice pack to put on my head, courtesy of the flight staff. At least it took away any thoughts of my cold.
At this rate, I think it's Italy 1: Jean 0.
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