Theater trip to Spain with surprises

I was in Spain, together with Inger, her helper Maja, the director Jesper and my helper Henrik. It was a fun trip where we had 5 days holiday before the theater festival began. We stayed in Figueres, where the Dali museum is situated, we (of course) quickly nosed out that there was a wine and delicacy tasting in the town square. Not bad on the first day, being able to drink 6 glasses of wine and taste 6 of area's specialties for only 40 DKK (8 $).

One of the beautiful squares in Figueres.

It was a well organized festival, with participation from many countries, including Singapore. The festival was held in the beautiful and ancient city of Girona, 100 kilometers north of Barcelona. Our play had a very positive response. But it is a long trip for only 20 minutes of acting.

DIESEL in the TANK AND IN the canister

We drove in Inger's new Ford Transit Diesel - which would prove to be fatal…

Before our departure, we knew that drivers were protesting against the rapidly rising prices and taxes on fuel around Europe. Before entering France, we discussed whether it would be necessary to buy extra diesel for the van and decided to buy a 20-liter canisters. We found a hotel well into France where we stayed overnight. Next morning we were told that all gas stations were blocked for sale of diesel. Of course 5 naive Danes didn’t believe that. But some of what the French tells is true, I now know. So we had to take a long detour to Switzerland to buy diesel. When we got to Switzerland, we could not track down any canisters, because the French had got the same idea (just a bit earlier). Not until an amiable Swiss couple guided us to a DIY retailer, we managed to get enough canisters so we could get out of Switzerland, through France and down to Spain.

Typhon IN SOUTHERN FRANCE

We had planned to leave Girona Monday morning after the festival. But the Friday before, we were supposed to meet with the other participants at a beach, and on the highway the car stalled and would simply not go any longer. We called assistance. While we were seated in the car, it was hauled up on the truck bed of the rescue truck and taken to a repair shop at the nearest town, Figueres (the town we had spent our first five holidays in). They could not repair it during the day, so we had to find another way to get back to Girona - and it is not easy with two electric wheelchairs - at least not in Denmark. It turned out that there was no trouble to go by train, where they had a lift made in my hometown Aarhus.

The car was of course not repaired during the weekend, but we got it Monday afternoon and then took off Tuesday morning.

After driving a few hundred kilometers, up around Montpellier in France, something was wrong with George again (as the car had been renamed).

Two were sent for a little walk to the nearest gas station. While we sat and waited for the others, a police car stopped beside us. A cantankerous cop announced with his poor English that we could not stay in the hard shoulder on the highway. He summoned assistance, and after half an hour a huge rescue truck came. The procedure from Friday repeated itself only with the change that a terrible storm had arrived, with lots of lightning, thunder, rain and hails. When we got off the highway and onto the smaller roads, there was already so much water that the other cars wheels were covered by water.

We were taken to a little garage that could only repair minor damage, but mainly dealt with car rental and towing. No one at this point seemed to do anything for George. We needed to bring him to a Ford garage, so they could take care of him. There was still warranty. But nobody seemed to be able to help us. They said we should call our 'agent' in Denmark.

We had no French money, the place was far from a city and we could not borrow their phone before we had discussed it for a looooong time with them.

Just before closing time, there was a previously very stressful, but now friendly secretary on the spot, which began to take our problems seriously. She got George to a garage, and began to call almost all hotels in Montpellier to find an available hotel which was accessible for wheelchairs. She finally managed to find a hotel with available rooms. The next problem was how we could manage to go there with all our gear, which now stood just inside the gate of the garage. The garage that all had abandoned except the helpful secretary and a somewhat impatient boss. However, he suddenly remembered that he knew a taxi driver who had a trailer. This driver and his brother, each with their taxis were summoned. They could even speak English. We got the chairs maneuvered up on the trailer, I was put into the back seat and luggage and the other placed where there was some space. And so it went off to the hotel. During the ride to the hotel we were explaining that the garage had not had time to take care of our smaller problem. The storm, which was now blown over, turned out to have been a typhoon. We saw that the roofs were blown off houses, houses were destroyed and trees in large numbers overthrown. Later we heard that five people were killed, while we had been sitting in George on the truck bed of the rescue truck, driving on the highway, with the rain was lashing upon us. It was completely surreal.

'Fawlty Towers' is located in MONTPELLIER

We arrived at the hotel at about eight in the evening. And what a hotel! A hotel that most reminded of ‘Fawlty Towers’. It was located in an industrial area just up the freeway. The owner was a former nurse who had bought the hotel two months ago and not had any experience with the hotel business. The chef had very loose wrist and could have been in the movie ‘The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert’. When the night porter showed up he was pretty drunk. The only two people we saw (the other, we only heard at night when they were apparently very active with athletic exercises on the sheets), was an elderly gentleman and his very young, beautiful wife from South Africa. They were in one way or another related to our hotel owner, and while the man waited to get an eye surgery, his wife was learning about the hotel business, because they also recently had bought a hotel in Africa. But it more seemed as she was learning about cleaning and bed-making.

Next day at noon the Ford workshop told us that they could not figure out what was wrong with George. They advised us to let George stay and find another way to get home. However, we needed to get a green light from Ford and the insurance company in Denmark to be sure they would cover the flight home. They were not particularly willing, so we spent most of day to call back and forth and waiting for various answers. First in the evening we succeeded, after much pressure to be allowed to take a flight home as quickly as possible. We managed to get tickets for the next morning, and booked the taxi-brothers again.

We stood at the airport at about five in the morning with our tickets. But, but, and again - but; the anguish was not over yet. It turned out that there had been a mistake, so only Inger, Jesper and I had tickets to Paris. The helpers were written on a waiting list. After a nerve-racking waiting time all managed to get on the plane to Paris. When we left Montpellier, we had not yet received confirmation of the reservation from Paris to Billund in Denmark. But everything worked out fine. The electric wheelchairs where there in Paris, the baggage was automatically forwarded to Billund and we got our tickets and could finally go to Denmark.

What can go wrong - WILL go wrong

We came to the arrival hall in Billund. I was using one of the airports wheelchairs, which I actually couldn’t sit in, for longer than it took to go from the aircraft to the luggage hand-out. I was almost lying down. Therefore, I looked forward to get up in my padded seat again. But alas and alack! The electric wheelchair was not with the plans. I was now placed on the airport floor, overlooking the baggage as the biggest entertainment. A friend had now arrived to pick us up in a borrowed car. Since I could not sit in the car, it was decided that an ambulance with a stretcher had to come and pick me and my helper, and the others could go home with our friend. After a few hours of waiting on the floor, and seeing two groups of passengers arriv, the ambulance finally came and we could go home to my beloved Trige.

I was promised that the chair would be on the next plane from Paris, which was late in the evening. Until then, I could use my manual wheelchair, which I cannot move by myself. So when I heard my helper’s voice through the door from the staircase, saying: ‘Dan, I've locked myself out, what shall I do’? I wanted to scream: ‘I don’t know and I give a damn about it, I don’t care!’. But however, we got hold of a locksmith and waited for the luxury chair.

But it didn’t arrive in the evening!

It was not there the next morning!

Finally it arrived late Friday evening, and was all torn apart. Several things were missing, and some things destroyed!

So it was first on Monday it could be repaired, and once again the peace and quiet daily rhythm could descend upon Dan Brock and his surroundings.