Land of detergent swans, ambushes, glorious fruit
Plane was in early this morning – and I was picked up from the airport and driven to the Hotel Transamerica, which helped immeasurably. Struck, once again, by how the drive in from the airport, running alongside a canalised river that is full of ‘detergent swans’ (clumps of white foam that can look like swans) and great rafts of bottles, as if thousands of desperate-to-be-rescued Robinson Crusoes are marooned upstream, is like a Time Machine trip to Europe in the early 1960s. Everyone here full of the Formula 1 event in the city, though the news of a machine-gun ambush of world champion Jenson Button shows that – in some respects – things here haven’t changed that much.
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