Yes, unfortunately I was one of the many affected by the volcanic eruption in far away Iceland. It was a not so nice ending to a relaxing spring break in Madrid, Lisbon, and Tenerife. Every place we visited was amazing and beautiful, and in Lisbon we had the chance to stay in the number 1 hostel in all of Europe. In Tenerife we had a week of relaxing on the beach and by the pool and exploring the island (which has a volcano of its own!). But I will tell you what I've been up to these past few days. Keep in mind: the whole time I'm carrying two-weeks worth of luggage.
This past Thursday we flew to Madrid, expecting to spend one night and fly out the next morning to Paris where I was planning to meet my dad and spend the weekend with him in Paris. But Thursday night our plans, which we thought had been settled for several weeks, began to spiral out of control.
Around 10pm, after hearing news of the volcano, we decide to check on our flight status for the next morning. When we get to the EasyJet page, it says "past check-in time". We soon discover that the person responsible for booking the flight (one of the four of us, no not me) had accidentally booked the flight for Thursday morning instead of Friday. Yes, this is a very stupid mistake both on part of the person who booked but also on the part of everyone else (including me) who had failed to double check the date of the flight. The two other girls decide to just take a bus the next day leaving at 8pm arriving in Paris at 3pm on Saturday. Spencer and I, who are both planning on meeting up with people in Paris the next morning, try our hardest to get another flight out leaving the following morning (not yet realizing what a problem the ash will have become by then). After 2 hours of trying to get the RyanAir website to work (worst website ever), I finally manage to book a 200euro flight getting me into paris by 3pm. Wake up the next morning, flight is still scheduled. I take a shower. Check again. Canceled. Head to the airport, wait in line for 30 minutes, and decide to head back to the hotel after the line at the airport didn't move at all. We decide to head to the train station and try to get on an overnight train to Paris. We wait to talk to somebody for an hour only to find out all the trains are booked until Tuesday. We head to the bus station (where our friends are), and, naturally, the two people in front of us get the last two tickets on that bus to Paris. We manage to buy tickets leaving Saturday at 1pm arriving in Paris at 5am. Spencer and I are feeling so discouraged. I begin to cry while phoning by dad to break the news to him. After I begin to cry a lot, the woman in the office tells me we can try to get on one of the buses leaving that night, as some people might not show. We end up waiting in the bus station for 7 hours, and when we find out at 11pm that we can't get on any of the buses, we begin to panic.
Now it's 11pm in a city we don't know well and we have no place to stay for the night. We head back to the hotel we stayed in the night before--an airport hotel with a free shuttle service to the airport. We get to the hotel, ask for a room, and, of course, the only room they have available is the 250euro Emperor's Suite. Unfortunately that's not a price for which you can haggle. We panic some more until the man behind the desk tells us down the street a ways is another hotel with more reasonable prices. He makes a few phone calls for us, and before we know it we have a reservation in one of their last available rooms. As we gather our things to begin to the walk to the hotel, it begins to downpour. We make a run for it and arrive in our hotel room soaked--but neither of us care because we have a bed to sleep in. At 1am, as I'm climbing into bed, I realize I have had nothing to eat all day.
Saturday was easy: woke up, got some snacks for the bus ride, and got on the bus without any problems. We could finally relax. We arrived in Paris on time, at 5am, and I got on the first metro to meet my dad. I rested for a few hours, and then headed to the train station to try to get a ticket back to Dijon. We waited on-line for an hour, and I got a ticket back to Dijon for early Monday morning (almost forgot to mention: there has been a train strike in France on and off to almost 2 weeks now, so only half the trains are actually going anywhere, so I was lucky to get that ticket to Dijon). I spent Sunday in Paris, enjoying the Parisian spring, and visiting the Orangerie and Père Lachaise. This morning I woke up at 5am, was in Dijon by 8:40, and managed to finish all my work for the day leaving myself just enough time to walk to class with Maddy and catch each other up on our crazy breaks.
The most ironic thing about my weekend is the fact that the two people who didn't care what time they arrived in Paris ended up getting there significantly ahead of the two who needed to be there the soonest. But I'm back here and so grateful for it, despite the fact that I'm exhausted, and have lots of work to do for this week. One girl from our group is still stranded in Stockholm but will hopefully be arriving in Dijon Wednesday by bus. This was one of the most stressful and scary weekends of my life, but it's over and I made it out alive. So many people are still stranded somewhere, and I'm hoping the French airspace will open up soon so my brother can fly in this coming weekend. In any case, I'm here, in Dijon, safe and sound, without having had anything stolen, lost, or broken in two-weeks of travel. I'm content.
