We don’t have our luggage – I’m still wearing Monday’s clothes – we have no idea how or when we’ll get home, and our friendships are being put to the test.
But this year’s has grown to bear more of a resemblance to Race Around the World than White Lotus. Monday’s unprecedented power outage left millions across Spain and Portugal without power – with the cause still unknown. There’s been survival tactics, contingency planning, snack stockpiling, underwear rationing, deodorant sharing, journey planning, car-sourcing and airport-shifting.
By 10pm on Tuesday night, the laughs, camaraderie and patience that defined the first hours had fizzled out. There have been tears – mine came after I went back to the airport, at the behest of Portugal’s national carrier TAP Air, to join thousands of passengers hoping to receive their luggage. After an eight-hour wait, I went home bagless – but felt worse for the elderly couple who’d camped out at the airport for two days, the young woman travelling alone, the desk operator who’d had enough of it all and the mum who was breastfeeding her baby in an airport corridor instead of holidaying with him and her partner.
We found a slice of grass on a verge behind the arterial route next to the airport and beside an at-capacity three star hotel that wouldn’t let anyone else into its sweltering, stuffed lobby and held an emergency meeting.
square LIFESTYLE I'm a UK prepper - here’s how I prepare for a blackout
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The fixer among our number, ably supported by the one keenest on a luxurious bed for the night, wrestled their way into another equally stuffed and sweaty hotel reception to piggyback the Wi-Fi and connect with transport timetables, taxi companies and someone back home to get us to our booked accommodation by the sea. By the time I swapped with them, now having contributed to the emergency effort by portioning out a cereal bar and airline nuts – my husband knew my exact location thanks to a husband’s SOS group, which had been set up to both help and mock us.
“What’s causing this?” we asked our first driver as he dodged disconnected traffic lights at 9pm on Monday night. “I think a firefighting helicopter crashed into an electricity cable,” he offered. Implausible.
The airline has had zero communication with us other than a courtesy email to ask how we enjoyed our flight. Locals have moved on with businesses and households now back up and running, and I’m just focused on securing a fresh pair of underwear while half the group eagerly awaits the return of their packed HRT medication.
Have we learned what actually happened to Europe’s power networks this week? No. But have we learnt stuff about ourselves? Yes. If one of the party is insistent that we should bomb it back to the airport and stand firm, while another is in the throes of an anxiety attack and wants her to be quiet, you might find you piss each other off a bit. One midlife woman’s sleep supplements is another’s eyebrow pencil: be patient with each other’s needs.
Mostly, we had something special organised, a one-off, and it was hijacked by events out of our control. We had our health and one pair of knickers each.
And guess what? I can’t even remember what’s inside those bags and I’m not rushing to check. Besides, I’m due to fly home in a few hours.
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