I wanted more adventure...
...I got more adventure
28.12.2010
Wrote this last week:
Hello all (?). I had all but given up on this blog along with you guys. I just…I don’t know, time constraints, and it’s surprisingly boring talking about myself and what I’m doing. The past few days though have warranted an entry, if just to shake them off.
On Friday morning, I woke up with a fairly lengthy to-do list for my last day in Florence: pick up some pashminas for souvenirs, take my last final, swing by the photo studio and pick up my dried prints, buy a little somethin’-somethin’ for my host family, pack…No big.
Travel plans: first stop, Brussels, Saturday afternoon: go to Mojgan’s house, drop off my 30+ kg of luggage, spend a few days recuperating from school and finals, and on Tuesday, take a bus to Amsterdam. There, I’d stay with Maria, this really safe-seeming woman I found on CouchSurfing (http://www.couchsurfing.org/about.html) and explore the city by myself (as my travel companion bailed last minute), then Paris on Thursday with Charles, then back to Brussels and maybe Brugue before heading back home. So ready.
Man plans, God ROFLs. At some point during my final on Friday, Florence got its worst snow storm since, I’m told, ‘85. Busses stopped running and so did cabs. Wait it out here for a few hours, I thought, this can’t be so bad, I thought. Surely someone can drive me to my host-home an hour-plus walk away? Nope. Last minute plans effectively cancelled: just get home. An hour and a half and a weathered map later: mission accomplished, and a bloody left foot to show for it.
Keep goin’: packed, realized I can’t fit everything in my suitcases, repacked, weighed my luggage and realized I was over by quite a bit, threw stuff out, reweighed, realized I was still over, repeated the process two more times, aaaaaand flight’s cancelled. Went to bed. Next morning: flight is back on, time to book it to Pisa airport. Go. Buses are still not running. Go. Taxi lines are all busy, and when Emilia (my signora) finally got a hold of one, they say they don’t come to our area. Go. Emilia leaves the house looking to hitch me and Elizabeth (my roommate from Smith) a ride into town. She finds: two nuns who are willing to take me a bit further to a train station close by: thank you so much, nuns. And I’m off.
I take a train to the central station so that I can take another train to the airport. At the central train station, while looking at the departure board to see what platform my train is on, my destination…disappears. No cancellation announcements or anything, just…gone. Station is, as the Italian saying goes, a “gran casino” (literally translated: big whorehouse, loosely: shitshow). Ok, there is another train to Pisa, I can take a shuttle from there to the airport, ok. 15 minute delay. 35 minute delay. 40 minute delay. Along with some tourists from Kansas, we come to the conclusion that we’re actually looking at the arrival, and not departure, board, and that rumor has it that there are no trains to Pisa today because of the snow. But it’s not even snowing anymore. But Italy doesn’t know how to deal with 3 inches of snow. Plan B: try to find a bus. Dragged my luggage through the snow for about 15 minutes (a 3 minute walk, normally) to the bus station. There are no busses running from here, try the place around the corner. There is nothing around the corner. Oh, the bus information desk is inside a café, of course. But there are no busses from this company either. Back to the train station, arms just about to give out. At the train station: miracle of miracles: a train to the airport in 20 minutes. Got on board. Met: Raphaela from Brazil, awesome chick, around my age. She says she’s catching a flight tonight at 8 and is worried it’ll be cancelled. Can’t be, I said, that’s not for another 6 hours. We check on her iPhone: as of 1 PM, both her flight, and mine are on time. At the airport: both of our flights are cancelled. At the check-in counter: can I rebook my flight? When is the next flight? We don’t know, you need to go online and rebook. But…ok. I meet: girl from Detroit and her boyfriend who have been hanging out at the airport for the past 32 hours and at this point, are contemplating driving to Paris. I bust out the Panetone (Italian fruitcake) Emilia has given me to take home to my family: it’s adding a lot of weight to my already over-weight-limit suitcase, and I’m cravin’ the carbs. Raphaela and I go at it. I take out my laptop and rebook my flight for Monday, at 12:35. I call Emilia who- may God bless her exponentially more every time I mention her name hereon- tells me to come back to her house, no problem. I head back to Florence, along with Raphaela and her two equally-Brazilian friends Julia and Augusta. Awesome, awesome kids.
But there are no trains back to Florence. There is, however, a bus to shuttle us into central Pisa, where we can find a train. Augusta takes my big suitcase and we make a run for it. At central Pisa, the train is, of course, delayed. But it comes and an hour and a half later: back to the Florence central bus station. The Brazillians and I part ways. It’s frigid and I wait on line for a taxi for 45 minutes. 11 hours since I left the house: back.
Sunday: Mojgan calls me to say that there has been a crazy snow storm in Brussels, and that I should recheck my Monday flight. I do: my flight has been diverted to Brugue. But…ok, Brugue it is because I need to get to Brussels ASAP so that I can make my Tuesday bus to Amsterdam, since I’ve already sprung 100 euro on a train from Amsterdam to Paris. Even though Mojgan tells me that she doesn’t think busses or trains will be running out of Belgium for now. Too desperate to risk-asses: I need to get out of Florence. I reopen my suitcase and get rid of more stuff and move things around between my suitcase and my carry-on. My carry-on is still over-weight, as is my suitcase which was previously fine. This makes no logical sense. At dinner, Emilia and I contemplate this being the end of the world, and the possible miscalculation that has resulted in it actually being almost New Years 2012. She shows me some interesting calculations, all of which point to the world coming to an end soon.
Monday morning: I check my flight online: it is now cancelled. But there is another flight to Brussels later tonight. I try to book it online. Doesn’t work. Back to the airport for me to see what I can do. I check my account to see how much money I have left: account is frozen because of my Dutch train ticket purchase, I think. Emilia lends me a 50. Recall what I said about each mention of her name. Emilia, Emilia, Emilia. She calls cabs for me: still nothing. But the busses are running again. Trudge, trudge, trudge, and on bus. Oh look! A bus-ticket checker! Always a pleasure. What is this you say? My bus pass expired yesterday? Yes, that’s because I was supposed to leave this country two days ago. I am leaving now, what do you want me to do? Thank you so so much, good sir, for letting me only pay 2 euro for the ticket, instead of the 45 Euro I have seen your colleagues charge unknowing tourists for the same offense. Auguri.
A woman on the next bus helps me with my luggage, thus restoring my faith in Florentines. Thank you, smiling woman, already a much better day than Saturday. And the train to Pisa: it comes when it says it will. I have never not-taken anything for granted as I not-did then. So we meet again, airport. Yes I know my flight is cancelled, but it wasn’t letting me rebook online. I stand in line for about an hour, whereby a woman at the ticketing counter tells me that there aren’t any more flights today, despite what it said online. She rebooks my flight for Tuesday. I am not going back to Florence. I’m told to go to the Information desk to find a cheap hotel to stay at over night. At the information desk, I’m told to go to the tourism office. There, a nice woman shows me the way to the nearby hostel. I am on my way out of the airport when someone taps me on the shoulder: it’s the woman who was standing behind me at the ticketing line. She says that she overheard me asking about the flight tonight, and that she knew that there is one since she’s taking it. So, she told the employee who had helped me, asked her if I can book it, and then came and found me at the airport to tell me that I can. I hugged her. Thank you so much, French speaking woman with the really cute son/baby brother.
Back to the ticketing line. I am told that yeah, there is a flight tonight, but it might be cancelled. I don’t care, put me on it. So far there is a 15 minute delay for it. I don’t care, put me on it. I’m on it. Now the 6+ hour wait.
…
Epilogue: There was a twenty minute or so delay, and one cancellation scare when I got the airport mixed up with the one in Paris. And the one time when this woman who was standing on the front of the line to board the plane started yelling at someone pretty violently. But thereon it was smooth sailing. And now I’m getting bored of this again.
Posted by Shahrzad 10:50 Archived in Belgium Comments (0)
