Last week I promised two examples of what can go wrong when you travel…and then had time to tell you about only one. So, this week, let’s start with the second.

There are, I am told, some people who, when tackling a jigsaw puzzle, just put their hand into the box, pull out a piece, look at the picture on the box-lid and decide where the piece goes. I’m very pleased to say that I’ve never actually met any of these people, but I suppose I have to believe that they exist, in much the same way as I believe in pygmies, despite never having met one.

Any truly civilised person knows that the correct way to tackle a jigsaw is to sift through the pieces, sorting out all of those with straight lines, and then to sift through the straight-line pieces, sorting out the four corner pieces. Once you have those four, you can put them in place; then you are free to continue to complete the frame, and then, and only then, can you tackle the middle.

Preparing to come to Portugal is rather like tackling a jigsaw. Every time we plan our next trip, we start with the four corner pieces, which allow us to set our dates. The first corner is checking with the kids, to ensure that our visit will not clash with a visit from Tslil’s parents, or other family or friends. Next is checking the Hebrew calendar, to see what constraints there are regarding any Jewish holidays. Next is our personal calendar, to see whether we have any unbreakable commitments. These days, these are more likely to be medical appointments than family celebrations. Finally, armed with all of this information, we see what our flight options are and make a firm booking, based on price and convenience.

The next set of tasks involves finding and putting in place all the jigsaw pieces with one straight side. There is a clear division of labour here. I deal with all of the ancillary arrangements: car hire, transportation to the airport in Israel, travel insurance, transferring money to our Portuguese account. Bernice, meanwhile, finds and puts in place far more pieces. She solicits from Tslil (and, these days, also Tao) a shopping list, and starts acquiring whatever clothes, food items, pieces of household equipment the kids need or would like. This trip, for example, included silan, shorts and a telescope: included, but was not remotely confined to, these items.

As we draw closer to our departure date, scarcely a day passes when Bernice doesn’t return from the mall with something. Ritual requires that she then make a declaration that “It really doesn’t matter if we don’t have enough room for this. It isn’t vital. We can take it next time.” I am required to reply: “Don’t worry! We’ve got plenty of room. We’ll manage easily.” This dialogue continues with little variation until the morning before we leave, when we start filling in the middle pieces of the jigsaw. This involves gathering from the four corners of the house everything we are taking and bringing down the suitcases.

Once everything is laid out on the sofas in the salon, I divide each pile into two, so that if one suitcase is lost in transit Tao will at least have some t-shirts, Micha’el will have at least one pair of sharwalim, we will have one bottle of grape juice for Tao and Tslil, and so on. At some point during the morning, I introduce a brief variation on our dialogue: “You know, I’m not 100% sure we’re going to be able to take everything.” However, in the end, through some alchemical process, everything we want to take is distributed between the pieces of luggage in such a way that the El Al clerk will let it pass, and, so far, we have never had to leave anything behind.

Apart from the flight, the only other preparation that I make very early is car rental, which almost always offers cancellation with full refund up to a day or two before the rental begins. This trip was no exception: I actually booked a car, through an online booking company (VIP Cars), three full calendar months before we flew. It is always a very reassuring feeling to print out the rental voucher and know that a second corner-piece of our trip is firmly in place. Or so I used to think, before this trip.

Picture my reaction when the following happened. On the day of our trip, we arrived at the airport in good time after a smooth trip by taxi and train. Checking in took a very long time, but everything went smoothly., We then made our way to Aroma in the departure lounge for a salad, while we waited for our flight to be called.

While I was sitting waiting for Bernice to bring our order, I received an email from VIP Cars, and was, by turns, puzzled, then horrified, then outraged, to read that (sic): “We have got an urgent update from the supplier, due to some technical issues Keddy car rental cant honor the booking, hence, instead of Keddy we will be providing you FREE UPGRADE car from Klass Wagen car rental from the same location in Lisbon airport and at the same price…Please acknowledge this email” (Puzzled, because Klass Wagen sounded to me like a joke; horrified, obviously, by the very sloppy punctuation; outraged, that our agreement was being broken so cavalierly at such short notice.)

I immediately acknowledged receipt of the email and sought further clarification. The key question was whether the pick-up point was still at the airport terminal. This is a big factor for us; since we have a lot of luggage and a three-hour drive from the airport, having to take a shuttle bus to an off-airport location is a major drawback, costing us effort and time. At Lisbon airport, car pickup is a level four-minute walk from the Arrivals terminal.

An exchange of emails followed, the upshot of which was that VIP were unable to provide me with any car from the airport. I assured them that I did not want an upgrade; negotiating the narrow, cobbled streets of Penamacor is enough of a challenge in a budget car. Even so, they claimed there was not a single car available at the airport. They assured me that Klass Wagen’s office was only a four-minute ride by shuttle bus from right outside the terminal, and sent me what seemed like clear details of where to pick up the shuttle bus, and the phone number of Klass Wagen in case anything went wrong, “but,” they assured me, “nothing will go wrong.” (Stop sniggering at the back.)

Basically, we had no choice but to accept. They sent me a new voucher and instructed me to print it out and present it at the desk. I pointed out, as my patience ebbed away, that I was already at the airport and hadn’t brought my printer with me. They quickly assured me that would not be a problem, as I could show the voucher to the company on my phone.

Our flight went smoothly (apart, of course, from the fact that I was worrying the whole time that picking up the car would prove a nightmare). Lisbon airport is in the middle of renovations, which meant that our walk from passport control to baggage pick-up was not the direct three-minute affair it usually is, but rather a twelve-minute trek against the traffic through the gate area and then the duty-free area for departures.

Despite the longer walk (which, to be honest, is never unwelcome after several hours in economy), we still arrived at the carousel some time before our luggage. However, both cases arrived safely, and we made our way out, as per instruction, through Exit 4, opposite the Vodafone shop, and the shuttle stop is in the second traffic lane.

There was, you may not be entirely surprised to learn, no shuttle bus waiting, and, indeed, no shuttle bus-stop waiting. Or, more precisely, there was a shuttle bus-stop, but it was a little too far from the Vodafone shop to be accurately described as “opposite”, and it gave no indication that it served “Klass Wagen” (although, to be honest, if I served a company called “Klass Wagen”, I’m not sure I would advertise it). I decided it would be wise to phone the rental company.

When I did so, I got an automated multi-option system. I had great difficulty hearing it, because we were standing in the middle of a four-lane drop-off and pick-up area. When I managed to tune my ear in, I realised that all of the instructions were in Portuguese, rendering it useless for me.

There was a taxi rank 50 metres away, and I was armed with the address of the rental company, so we trundled our cases over there to take a taxi, which I fully intended to charge to VIP Cars (a name that was acquiring a more ironic ring by the minute). The taxi dispatcher was very pleasant but too busy to really listen to our pathetic story and simply confirmed where the shuttle bus-stop was.

While we were attempting to make progress with him, a shuttle bus pulled up at the bus-stop and Bernice (who had just one case) raced to ask the driver to wait while I (who had a case and a carry-on case) lurched behind, expressing, at every kerb, amazement that the architects had not thought to provide ramps.

By the time I arrived, Bernice had established that, as I had suspected, this bus was an internal airport transfer bus. However, the delightful driver agreed to listen to the Portuguese menu on the rental company’s phone number, and to put me through to the right extension. I dialled the number, and heard the first message (the one I had missed when I phoned because of the ambient noise): “For English, press 1.”  The driver was kind enough not to look at me as if wondering whether I was allowed out alone, and wished us luck, while I got through to an English-speaking receptionist, who assured me that the shuttle-bus had already left their office for the airport, and that although there was, indeed, no bus-stop, he would stop opposite Vodafone.

So, it’s a four-minute ride, and the driver has already left. You do the maths. When did he arrive? That’s right, ten minutes later, which, in case you’re wondering, is just a little more than long enough for a couple of septuagenarians who started their journey 12 hours previously to start wondering whether they are going to be spending the night at the airport.

In fairness, from the moment the shuttle-bus arrived, everything went very smoothly…apart from the fact that the driver had obviously agreed to drop off his colleague who was going off-duty on the way. It actually did not seem to take us out of our way, and the entire drive was only about 12 minutes. The driver spoke very good English. He loaded and unloaded our cases, without being asked. The clerk who processed us was efficient and pleasant.

There was one small further twist when for some reason I couldn’t retrieve the voucher on my phone and the clerk couldn’t find our order on his printout, but everything was resolved in a minute or two (which, in case you’re wondering, is just a little more than long enough for a couple of septuagenarians who started their journey 12½ hours previously to start wondering whether they are going to be spending the night at the car rental office).

We eventually drove off in our Opel Corsa about half-an-hour later than we probably would have done if we had picked the car up at the airport. Incidentally, the clerk was in shock when I rejected the larger and more luxurious Skoda. I didn’t tell him that, if you drive a Kia Picanto – a car we really love – then a Corsa seems like a luxury car.

Fortunately, the rental office was only five minutes’ drive from the motorway that we take out of Lisbon, and we enjoyed an untroubled night-time drive, over three-quarters of which was on cruise control, which makes concentrating on the road so much easier and driving so much simpler.

Next week, I will endeavour to tell you something about what we have actually been doing here in the first half of our stay. Where did those two weeks go?!

Meanwhile, here’s something to tide you over.