We return to the hotel in the afternoon, and of course there’s still no luggage. A message says that it will “maybe be delivered late in the evening”. Now we’re really angry, we shout threats at the airline man, and V even lies: – My husband is ill and needs medicines that are in his luggage! The man just hums something, uninterested.
But later that night we finally rendez-vous with our backpacks. We almost cry of relief, and struggle to find words of praise for our hotel staff that have worked so hard to make it happen. We run around the corner to celebrate at Effingut Brewery, a real hipster pub serving some delicious ipa.