Once again I'm sitting in the computer lab at Denise's school. What a gracious friend. Her graciousness is almost as wonderful as her friendship, humor, and kindness. As I have struggled through the weekend and continue to muddle through this week post volcano-explosion (as Eric put it: Dr. Harris must be so excited, this is the first time Iceland's been in the news in forever!) she has been there for me every step of the way, making sure I eat, talk, fuss, and occasionally sigh in frustration.
Frankly, being here hasn't been too bad overall. But let's back up. Originally I was going to take a daytrip on Friday last week. My plans changed slightly and I decided to go on Thursday instead, since Denise was free most of Friday (noon onward!) and I wanted to spend my *last* night with her, not in Eisenstadt. So Thursday morning, off I went to Eisenstadt, the town the Esterhazy family lived in. Terribly cool, I got to see Haydn's house. But the second I walked into her apartment that evening, full of crazy stories, Denise says "look at RyanAir. A volcano errupted, and flights are shutting down."
Sure enough, Friday evening I was notified my flight had been canceled. What followed from there was a frantic rush to get myself back in time for Monday lectures.
Or my Wednesday meeting.
Or just ever.
I first booked a Eurostar train for Monday evening, since that was the next available time I could go. I then Saturday went and stood in line, twice, trying to get a train out of Vienna and over to Paris. That was a no-go, since that was what everyone wanted to do. I spent a total of 4 hours and 30 minutes at Westbahnhof waiting in line. On Saturday. After a little conferencing with my family that night, I went back to Westbahnhof on Sunday and spent almost 3 hours trying to sort my life. Again. And then... here's the kicker, I couldn't get a train until Wednesday. So I booked it, thinking I could get ahold of Eurostar and change my booking with them.
I couldn't. So then I was going to be stuck in Paris, unable to get a hostel, unable to get a train. I panicked. I called my sister and she and I spent almost three hours on Sunday total trying to sort my life. Eventually we found a flight that was going to leave on Tuesday. I was so excited!
And then Monday night they canceled it.
I moved to this coming Monday.
I'll have missed an entire week, but hey, at least I'll get back, right?
Maybe wrong. The volcano errupted again yesterday, I may just have to move into Denise's apartment permanently.
On the plus side, I met her landlady today, she's absolutely a precious person, and is refusing to let me pay the extra rent to stay there since it's "such a pity! you being stuck here!". She gets flowers. And maybe chocolate.
Plus, Denise's roommates are SO cool. So wonderfully chill, and just absolutely lovely about the fact that they have an extra person in the house taking up space, shower time... etc. They've all been really sympathetic, and just incredibly gracious and kind. Such a relief to at least be stuck/stranded/marooned with friends. I've discovered so many new happy things about being glutenfree too! More on that at some point (and just how I managed to survive... although barely... I lost 5 pounds and about two inches on my waist in the last three weeks).
Life continues to be an adventure. In so many ways ...
Showing posts with label frustration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frustration. Show all posts
31 March 2010
Complications of a World Traveler
The title for today's post is a play off of my friend's newspaper article, which she entitled "Confessions of a World Traveler". It's Complicated, because of my yesterday. I learned some important lessons, and was shown both the frustrations and kindnesses of different strangers in life.
Let me back up.
For the past week my Mom and my younger brother Michael (note the word younger... I can no longer say "little", he only has an inch to go before he's my height) have been visiting me here in Oxford. We had tons of crazy adventures, and I even found out Mom can have the smoothies at Moo Moo's, the best milkshake place this side of the Atlantic. It was a really exciting moment for all involved.
Being able to show Oxford to them was really great, and I enjoyed almost every moment.
I say almost, because halfway through the week I developed a sinus infection. I'm semi-famous for having bad sinuses, and for having some of the worst infections known to man. But this one kicked every other infection I've had in the face. It's inflamed the nerves on the right side of my face, and I've been swollen and tender to the touch there for close to a week as of now. Yay for Oxford's perpetual damp.
The pain was so bad one night I couldn't function, was entirely miserable, and almost hysterical from the pain, despite having taken prescription strength ibuprofen, some tylenol, and two benedryl. My Mom was so worried she kept threatening to take me to the JR, the hospital here. Fortunately for me, Megan (who was staying with us for the week) told Mom how far away the JR is, and how much trouble it would be. They finally gave me some really strong prescription meds that I use when the arthritis pain is bad and put me to bed. Finally.
That was Sunday night. Monday I mostly stayed on the couch, and took pain medicine frequently. Monday night the pain amped up again, not as badly, but to the point where I was miserable again. I took a lot of pain medicine and went to bed around 12 with the idea of getting up at 6:30 am so everyone could catch their respective coaches to go to their airports and catch flights.
7:15am I finally roll over and realize we've all overslept. A mild hurry descends on the house as we try to get out the door by 8 am. We're really unsuccessful, but I had wanted to run Mom and Michael early for their coach so I could catch the 9:05am coach to Luton. Around 8:50am we finally get to the coach station in Oxford and I put them on their coach and rush off to the National Express office to buy a ticket. Now the fact that you have to buy the tickets from a centralized office instead of a kiosk or on the bus like EVERY OTHER BUS COMPANY IN ENGLAND really frustrates me. Clearly.
The following is the rest of my day, post dropping off Mom and Michael at their coach. They told me later they made it in plenty of time.
8:52am - Enter NatEx office, two people in front of me. A man in his 30's who doesn't speak very good English and is incredibly confused about where he's going, and then a woman who's about 25/26 who DOES speak English, but is incredibly confused about what she needs, and even though the slightly incompetent girl behind the counter is explaining it, the customer continues to argue about what she needs. Even I knew she was wrong, and I'm not originally from here. Go figure.
9am - I finally make it to the counter, but am informed that the coach is leaving in just a moment. Having checked the schedule before I left I know this is incorrect, and tell them I should have five minutes. The man behind the counter refuses to sell me a ticket, saying everyone else is on the coach and it's leaving. I'm really frustrated, but what can I do at this point? Not much.
I explain that my flight is at 13:40 and I need to be at Luton before that. He tells me to hop the next OxfordTube coach to London and grab a coach from Victoria station to Luton. I'm doubtful, but he's rude, and I'd like to get away from him, so I agree. The guy who sells me the Tube ticket (because of course I don't have my multiticket on me...) tells me he thinks I'm making a mistake and proceeds to argue with the NatEx guy. I'm confused, and can't understand, because the guy from the OxTube is from Northern Scotland, and that's an almost impossible accent to understand. I finally give up and go get on the OxTube coach and ride into London.
It's 11:45 am now, the coach from Oxford ran late, and I'm really worried I'm not going to get to Luton in time.
I'm right. Again.
The Greenline Arriva bus from London to Luton pulls in at 1:20pm. I dash through the airport making a complete idiot out of myself, and almost injuring myself in the process. I get up to the security checkpoint and am told the paper I printed at home (or at Penelope's, rather) is NOT my boarding pass at all and I need to run downstairs and check-in.
1:25 pm - I dash downstairs to find the check-in desk for my flight is entirely closed.
1:30 pm I finally make it to the front of a different line and am directed to a ticket window across the room. It'd be nice if it had had a sign. I would have gone there in the first place.
1:35 pm - Am told I basically missed my flight as of five past one. In a culmination of too much strong medicine, frustration, and a complete lack of sleep, and the amount of pain I'm in, I burst into tears. The girl behind the desk tells me to come back in two minutes, she'll let me use the phone and I can call the states so I can talk to my Dad.
1:45 pm - Try repeatedly to use the desk phone to call Dad. Doesn't work. Call Charles on my mobile instead. Cry a little again because I'm so frustrated. He promises to call the States and have Dad call my mobile number.
1:50 pm - Denise, the friend I was going to meet in Bratislava/Vienna calls my mobile, concerned because got a text from me saying I had missed my flight. She tells me to calm down, and that my not coming isn't a huge deal, we'll just get refunds on things.
1:55 pm - Dad calls. We talk through my missed flight and the fact that getting on the next day flight will be 100 GBP. He reminds me the experience far outweighs the cost (something I have to repeat fairly frequently when I freak out about money, or lack thereof) and the only concern should be my health, which has been pretty cruddy.
2:05 pm - Denise and I talk again. We agree I'll just go home and sleep for two or three days and try the trip again soon.
3:30 pm - catch the coach back to Oxford (all that wasted money on coach tickets... blech).
6:00 pm - walk in the door and collapse. Realize I have no groceries.
Then remember Mom left stuff in the freezer. What a great Mom.
So for now I'm surviving on the leftovers Mom left in the freezer, and trying to sort my life again. Next time in this sort of a situation I will not try to leave the same day my company does, but I will try to leave the following day. I will not assume people are going to be nice, but I will remember to accept kindness when it is offered, like the bus driver who joked around with me, or the girl at the WH Smith who gave me a discount on my drinks and crisps because she overheard me talking to Denise on my mobile and felt sorry for me missing my flight.
Oh, and I think I'm leaving now on Monday, April 5th.
At least I'll have a nice quiet weekend to recover from the infection.
Let me back up.
For the past week my Mom and my younger brother Michael (note the word younger... I can no longer say "little", he only has an inch to go before he's my height) have been visiting me here in Oxford. We had tons of crazy adventures, and I even found out Mom can have the smoothies at Moo Moo's, the best milkshake place this side of the Atlantic. It was a really exciting moment for all involved.
Being able to show Oxford to them was really great, and I enjoyed almost every moment.
I say almost, because halfway through the week I developed a sinus infection. I'm semi-famous for having bad sinuses, and for having some of the worst infections known to man. But this one kicked every other infection I've had in the face. It's inflamed the nerves on the right side of my face, and I've been swollen and tender to the touch there for close to a week as of now. Yay for Oxford's perpetual damp.
The pain was so bad one night I couldn't function, was entirely miserable, and almost hysterical from the pain, despite having taken prescription strength ibuprofen, some tylenol, and two benedryl. My Mom was so worried she kept threatening to take me to the JR, the hospital here. Fortunately for me, Megan (who was staying with us for the week) told Mom how far away the JR is, and how much trouble it would be. They finally gave me some really strong prescription meds that I use when the arthritis pain is bad and put me to bed. Finally.
That was Sunday night. Monday I mostly stayed on the couch, and took pain medicine frequently. Monday night the pain amped up again, not as badly, but to the point where I was miserable again. I took a lot of pain medicine and went to bed around 12 with the idea of getting up at 6:30 am so everyone could catch their respective coaches to go to their airports and catch flights.
7:15am I finally roll over and realize we've all overslept. A mild hurry descends on the house as we try to get out the door by 8 am. We're really unsuccessful, but I had wanted to run Mom and Michael early for their coach so I could catch the 9:05am coach to Luton. Around 8:50am we finally get to the coach station in Oxford and I put them on their coach and rush off to the National Express office to buy a ticket. Now the fact that you have to buy the tickets from a centralized office instead of a kiosk or on the bus like EVERY OTHER BUS COMPANY IN ENGLAND really frustrates me. Clearly.
The following is the rest of my day, post dropping off Mom and Michael at their coach. They told me later they made it in plenty of time.
8:52am - Enter NatEx office, two people in front of me. A man in his 30's who doesn't speak very good English and is incredibly confused about where he's going, and then a woman who's about 25/26 who DOES speak English, but is incredibly confused about what she needs, and even though the slightly incompetent girl behind the counter is explaining it, the customer continues to argue about what she needs. Even I knew she was wrong, and I'm not originally from here. Go figure.
9am - I finally make it to the counter, but am informed that the coach is leaving in just a moment. Having checked the schedule before I left I know this is incorrect, and tell them I should have five minutes. The man behind the counter refuses to sell me a ticket, saying everyone else is on the coach and it's leaving. I'm really frustrated, but what can I do at this point? Not much.
I explain that my flight is at 13:40 and I need to be at Luton before that. He tells me to hop the next OxfordTube coach to London and grab a coach from Victoria station to Luton. I'm doubtful, but he's rude, and I'd like to get away from him, so I agree. The guy who sells me the Tube ticket (because of course I don't have my multiticket on me...) tells me he thinks I'm making a mistake and proceeds to argue with the NatEx guy. I'm confused, and can't understand, because the guy from the OxTube is from Northern Scotland, and that's an almost impossible accent to understand. I finally give up and go get on the OxTube coach and ride into London.
It's 11:45 am now, the coach from Oxford ran late, and I'm really worried I'm not going to get to Luton in time.
I'm right. Again.
The Greenline Arriva bus from London to Luton pulls in at 1:20pm. I dash through the airport making a complete idiot out of myself, and almost injuring myself in the process. I get up to the security checkpoint and am told the paper I printed at home (or at Penelope's, rather) is NOT my boarding pass at all and I need to run downstairs and check-in.
1:25 pm - I dash downstairs to find the check-in desk for my flight is entirely closed.
1:30 pm I finally make it to the front of a different line and am directed to a ticket window across the room. It'd be nice if it had had a sign. I would have gone there in the first place.
1:35 pm - Am told I basically missed my flight as of five past one. In a culmination of too much strong medicine, frustration, and a complete lack of sleep, and the amount of pain I'm in, I burst into tears. The girl behind the desk tells me to come back in two minutes, she'll let me use the phone and I can call the states so I can talk to my Dad.
1:45 pm - Try repeatedly to use the desk phone to call Dad. Doesn't work. Call Charles on my mobile instead. Cry a little again because I'm so frustrated. He promises to call the States and have Dad call my mobile number.
1:50 pm - Denise, the friend I was going to meet in Bratislava/Vienna calls my mobile, concerned because got a text from me saying I had missed my flight. She tells me to calm down, and that my not coming isn't a huge deal, we'll just get refunds on things.
1:55 pm - Dad calls. We talk through my missed flight and the fact that getting on the next day flight will be 100 GBP. He reminds me the experience far outweighs the cost (something I have to repeat fairly frequently when I freak out about money, or lack thereof) and the only concern should be my health, which has been pretty cruddy.
2:05 pm - Denise and I talk again. We agree I'll just go home and sleep for two or three days and try the trip again soon.
3:30 pm - catch the coach back to Oxford (all that wasted money on coach tickets... blech).
6:00 pm - walk in the door and collapse. Realize I have no groceries.
Then remember Mom left stuff in the freezer. What a great Mom.
So for now I'm surviving on the leftovers Mom left in the freezer, and trying to sort my life again. Next time in this sort of a situation I will not try to leave the same day my company does, but I will try to leave the following day. I will not assume people are going to be nice, but I will remember to accept kindness when it is offered, like the bus driver who joked around with me, or the girl at the WH Smith who gave me a discount on my drinks and crisps because she overheard me talking to Denise on my mobile and felt sorry for me missing my flight.
Oh, and I think I'm leaving now on Monday, April 5th.
At least I'll have a nice quiet weekend to recover from the infection.
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