Over the Alps?

At 5:30 of the morning of our departure, we were still dubious whether we’d be able to leave.

Nabil was stuck in London, his flight having been cancelled the night before, and I was waiting for confirmation that his rerouted flight via Basel took off. When he called to let me know that they also cancelled that flight, I decided to throw in the towel. I mean, there are times when Fate sends you signs and woe betide those who ignore them, as the ancient Greeks had discovered. I resigned myself to it being “maktoub” that we would not fly this weekend.

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Flying Back

It was the longest final approach I had ever done. We had just flown over the French-Spanish border, some 40 miles out from our destination, when Girona Tower cleared us for a direct approach — unheard of from a busy airport so far away. We thanked the controller for his kindness and flew for about 15 minutes with nary a word from another aircraft on the radio. It was a surreal experience: we had the airport for ourselves.

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A Stitch in Time

It took them 45 seconds and 3 hours to take off my one stitch.

I was in the A&E of Orbetello hospital to remove a stitch on my left eyelid, done back in Geneva. We were on holiday in Tuscany and I had to have the stitch removed before heading back home. We were advised by local friends that the best course of action was to visit the A&E, known here as “Pronto Soccorso” and this was where the adventure began.

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