The Beach Boys are indeed playing in my head as I sit here in the British Airways lounge in Philadelphia looking back on the past five days. I figure since I have about two and half hours until I need to head over to the gate that will transport me back to the beautiful, amazing, wonderful city of Wilmington, NC I will take a moment to recount my worldwide adventures since I am sure Christmas festivities and family time will take over once I get home.
Alright... so to begin with. Unfortunately there will be no pictures in this blog since my memory card uploading device is currently somewhere in the Heathrow airport waiting to be tracked and shipped on to good old America. But I will be sure to post a blog with TONS of pictures as soon as that handy dandy device makes it back to me.
I find it rather funny that at the beginning of the semester I had no plans to visit London past just passing through Heathrow airport during all of my travels to and from the UK. Ohhhh how mistaken I was... I just calculated it out and I ended up spending nine of the past twelve days there. YAYYYY London. Actually four of those days there were pretty amazing, two of them were actually pretty fun thanks to fellow stranded British Airways passengers Jack and Patrick and the other three were just.... well... an adventure - we'll leave it at that. Allow me to explain.
Sunday December 12th - YAY for being done with exams!!! I headed done to London to celebrate since I had finished up all my school work early and wanted to have a chance to see more of the city past the whirlwind one day I experienced with my family. I created a detailed itinerary for myself with hopes of conquering the city in three days. Here's a quick run through of my days - clearly you can see that I was determined not to miss any of the big sights, regardless of how much walking it took me.
Sunday: Took the open top bus tour all around the city. I figured it would be a great way to get my bearings and get to see all of the city at once. I must admit though... I did jump off one time for a quick trip to Hamleys Toy Store. I mean, how could I miss out on these TEDDY BEARS!!!!! (Feel free to take a look at the link, but be forewarned... this website will cause you to experience a severe, jaw dropping 'AWWWWWWWWWW HOW CUTE!!!!!!" moment. Click at your own risk). Then later on that night I went to see a show... none other than The Snowman, my favorite childhood Christmas movie! It was such a wonderful moment sitting there being the youngest person without children by a LONG shot and laughing along with all the little kids while stuffing my face with jelly bellys and candy floss. Yay for being a kid at heart.
Monday: Started the day with a run in Hyde Park, where I passed by the Winter Wonderland Carnival and made a mental note to return later that day to ride the roller coaster. Then off to Westminster Abbey, the changing of the guards, Trafalgar Square, the National Gallery, ROLLER COASTER BLISS, and the Victoria and Albert Museum. That night I took a walking tour with the company London Walks. The topic - Harry Potter. Our tour guide was a walking, talking Harry Potter guru and as we toddled along, listening in awe, I think we all had to keep reminding ourselves, 'okay breathe in, breathe out... no big deal that Daniel Radcliffe stood on those very stairs when they threw a party to celebrate the release of the first movie... no big deal that we're standing in front of the Australian Embassy where they filmed Gringotts scenes.' YEAH RIGHT - it was amazing. Probably one of the highlights of my trip and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
Tuesday: Time for St. Paul's Cathedral, which ended up pretty much dominating my itinerary for the day. I took a two hour guided tour with one of the vergers before hefting it up the 200 something stairs to the top of the dome and taking in incredible views of London. Then I wandered over to the Millennium Bridge (of course, more commonly known as the bridge destroyed by dementors in the Order of the Phoenix movie) to snap a few pictures before spending all of five minutes in the Tate Modern. I just don't get modern art. I tried. But I just don't get it. Instead I went back to St. Paul's for their daily Evensong where I got to hear the boys choir perform. As I sat there admiring architect Christopher Wren's acoustical genius and the hymns echoing throughout the massive cathedral, I had one of those moments where you think "Life doesn't get much better than this." Except then it did... I went off to see another show that night - this time The Lion King. Just attempting to relive my entire childhood while in London for three days, you know.
Wednesday: Portobello Road Market in the morning to snag some delicious produce (yes I bought two pounds of grapes and had eaten them all before lunchtime), then back to the British Library for a guided tour of the Enlightenment Room and finally the British Library where I had applied for a reading card so I could get into the library stores and take a look at some books. I was able to lay my hands on an original copy of Milton's Areopagitica, which we read during my English seminar this past spring, and Walter Scott's The Heart of Midlothian, which I read for my English class in Edinburgh. And of course, to indulge the childish, less intellectual side of my personality, an original copy of Beatrix Potter's nursery rhymes. Hehe :) Then it was off to the airport and back up to Edinburgh... where even MORE fun was to soon begin.
Alright phase two of the blog - WARNING, now transitioning into an entirely random, bizzaro story that covers six days, five cities, and six airports, all completed in just ONE set of clothing. (I do not smell so hot right now... just going to throw that out there.) Here we go. Before I start, just to avoid confusion, I'll lay out the travel path that I was supposed to follow and the one I actually followed.
Normal travel home = Saturday December 18th - Edinburgh to London Gatwick, transfer via bus to London Heathrow, fly to Philadelphia at 11:20am, fly US Airways to good old Wilmington and arrive around 7:30pm.
ACTUAL travel home = Wednesday December 22nd London Gatwick to Bermuda (no, that's not a typo) and Thursday December 23rd Bermuda to Philly and then at long last Philly to final destination WILMYWOOD.
Now to explain...
Friday night around 10 pm, the fun began when my dad called me to let me know he had received an email from British Airways informing us that my flight to London Gatwick the following morning was cancelled. Immediately we started discussing the possibility of taking a train to London first thing in the morning to get me there in time for the 5:10 BA flight to Philadelphia. However, thankfully Patrick pointed out when I was talking to him that that would cause me to forfeit any obligation British Airways would have to rebooking me if I didn't show up at the Edinburgh airport for the first leg of my return trip and I also missed my scheduled 11:20 flight. So pretty quickly I ruled the train option out and decided to just show up at the airport at 4am and see how things would pan out. I believe I may have dozed for approximately 15 minutes from around 1:45 am to 2am, so I just called that my night of sleep, woke up and jumped in the shower with a cup of coffee in tow. Desperate times call for desperate measures, what can I say. My taxi driver showed up at 3:30 am and off we sped to the airport with me crossing my fingers and hoping with all my might that I would make it to London. I arrived at the Edinburgh airport to a huge queue of people already formed in front of the BA help desk since everyone on the flight to Gatwick wanted to know what on earth was going on and why the flight had been cancelled when there was no apparent reason for it (I will go ahead and point out that the weather was just fine at this point in time). After standing in that massive, rather unorganized line for about 20 minutes I all of a sudden look up to see a head of blonde hair and a familiar glasses-clad face making its way towards me through the crowd. I have never been happier to see fellow Davidson student Andrew Evans before! He ended up being incredibly helpful, offering to stay with my two cumbersome suitcases while I went in search of a BA representative who actually knew what was going on. I ended up tracking down a lovely woman named Kirsten who I wanted to hug the life out of when she printed me a boarding pass and stuck me in the check in line for the flight to Heathrow. Turns out I made a really good move on Wednesday as I was traveling back from London. I decided to go up to the British Airways help desk and enquire as to whether I could switch my flight for Saturday morning to come into Heathrow as opposed to Gatwick (which is what the frequent flyer miles put me on...) just to avoid the stress of having to transfer between the two airports in three hours. The nice man at the desk informed me that there were plenty of seats on the 6:30 am flight to Heathrow, he typed my name into the system and told me I was good to go as long as I called the British Airways help line to confirm the change. I called them. They refused to switch me. Company policy. I was figuring they would say that, so I just resolved to seriously book it between Gatwick and Heathrow on Saturday. I had no idea how things would actually turn out at that point.
But regardless, that tentative spot on the Heathrow flight was my golden ticket which got me to London and out of Scotland before the snow dumped there and the airport shut down. Several of my friends were unfortunately unable to get out and had to take trains down to London, so I considered myself very lucky to make it to London via airplane. However... once I arrived in London, the luck stopped there. (Or at least went into hiding for a few days, seeing that things have now ended amazingly.) About ten minutes after we touched down at Heathrow London was bombarded by five inches of snow in two hours. All flights were cancelled for the afternoon, including my 11:20 to Philadelpha. All thoughts of getting home later that night immediately disappeared and I instead turned my attention to locating Patrick and Jack who I knew were also stranded in the airport. We all found one another eventually thanks to some creative communication via internet purchased in the airport and random cell phones, hugged very very hard and then turned to figuring out where we would sleep that night. Patrick's mom was kind enough to get online and book us a hotel near the airport for two nights, so we bussed out to the Cottage Guest Inn and hunkered down to wait it out until the snow let up and we could fly back home.
We all decided it would be fun to head into central London on Sunday, however, our exhaustion showed by the fact that we got ourselves out of bed, ate breakfast and then fell back asleep until 1:00, finally making it out of the hotel and to the Tube station around 2:30 in the afternoon. Clearly, we were just so motivated. However, we were on a mission. A mission for a mecca of Americanized Mexican food nestled in the heart of London. We were going to Chipotle. Yes, Chipotle. There is one in London. We found it. We all gulped down burritos the size of our faces, basically ate our feelings in Mexican food. And then went to Winter Wonderland and drank hot chocolate and wandered around watching ice skaters and contemplating whether our faces really would freeze if we were brave enough to ride the roller coaster. We decided they would and decided that given everything else that had gone wrong, we would like to avoid frostbitten noses. So overall, a fun day in spite of being marooned in London due to the snow.
On Monday Patrick managed to fly home on United Airways, so after that the Heathrow Airport party was reduced to just Jack and me. We spent the day camped out in a prime people watching spot at Café Nero in Terminal 5, drinking hot cocoa and taking advantage of the wireless being opened up for free to check the status of Patrick's flight, get on Facebook and watch ESPN videos (although, to be quite honest, that was more Jack being enthralled and me just feigning interest.) Then Jack and I headed out to the Travelodge I had booked for us, ordered a pizza and hunkered down in our room to watch Inception. Unfortunately, around 10:00 that night I went to check the status for the flight to Newark that British Airways had rebooked me for the next morning, only to discover that it too had been cancelled. I had a good cry, Jack offered a heck of a shoulder to lean on and some great hugs and then I moved on, determined to get home any way that I could.
The next morning Jack and I woke up early and caught one of the first buses to the airport. He spent the day trying to get on standby for a few United flights that his mom had given him a lead for while I camped out in the British Airways rebooking line from 7am to about 1pm. I was incredibly lucky to even be in that line, seeing that they closed it off about ten people after me. (Very good thing Jack and I didn't opt to stay for a second bowl of cereal at the Travelodge all you can eat breakfast buffet!!) The situation in Heathrow was quite grim at that point, with people sleeping on the floor under foil blankets to ward off the cold, and waiting in line outside in tents to check in for their flights (that is, if their flight hadn't already been cancelled.) From Saturday to Tuesday, the airport was reported to be operating just 1/3 of their flights. Given that Heathrow is the busiest airport in the world and sees approximately 63 people pass through each year, you can just imagine the problems that might result from this new schedule...
However, I managed to become one of the lucky few who made it out before Christmas. After six hours in line I started to near the front and noticed a BA representative who was working his way through the line with a cell phone, rebooking people individually to speed up the process. By the time he got to me, I was so ready to get back to Wilmington that I had resolved to take any flight to Western Hemisphere, regardless of whether it was to California, Mexico or Canada... as long as I could get out of London I knew I could find my way back home from there. He stood there on the phone for a few minutes checking all the options to the U.S. and then told me that the earliest he could get me home was Monday December 27th. Even though I had been expecting something after Christmas Day, I still couldn't help just staring at him in disbelief for a moment and asking "REALLY??" I then told him that I would be quite content with just being sent in the general direction of the United States, and asked whether there were options into the Bahamas or Mexico or anywhere else in the Caribbean. He stood there on hold while I held my breath and when he looked at me and said "Ma'am this is a miracle. This is the only thing I have heard of all day that is open before Christmas day. You can fly from London Gatwick to Bermuda tomorrow afternoon at 2:25." I didn't hesitate for a single second and immediately told him I would take it. It was all I could do to hold myself back from hugging the life out of this poor stressed, befuddled man before I skipped out of line and went to set up camp in a corner of the airport to figure out commence phase two of getting myself home. First Knowing that I would get into late and have to spend the night in Bermuda, I booked a US Airways flight to Philadelphia and then on to Wilmington for Thursday the 23rd. Then I booked a room at Aunt Nea's Inn in St. George's Bermuda for one night. Then I booked a hotel near the Gatwick airport. Then I called my parents and told them my insane plan. I could practically hear their jaws dropping over the phone, but I reassured them that I had it all under control and would be arriving in Wilmington at 10:31pm in a mere two days. Then I took the Tube to Victoria Station. Then I took a train to Gatwick airport. Then I took a shuttle bus to the Europa Gatwick Hotel. Then I slept harder than I have slept in a long time. Then I woke up and went to the airport too scared to believe that this was actually happening. Then I got on a plane. Then I still couldn't believe this was happening. Then we were airborne. Then I started crying tears of joy. Then I watched three movies, bouncing from the excitement of it all and barely even paying attention to what was going on around me. Then I got off the plane. AND THEN IT WAS 65 DEGREES. I... I... I... I can't even describe that experience in words. I just can't.
So all of a sudden, somehow (who knows how) I find myself transported from snowy, icy Heathrow airport to Bermuda of all places. As my cab sped along windy roads lined by palm trees and brightly colored antiquated houses I really felt like pinching myself to make sure it was really happening. But wait... it gets better. I arrived at Aunt Nea's Inn, one of the oldest buildings in the world heritage site St. George's only to be greeted by the owner's welsh corgi. Yes. A welsh corgi. At first I thought I was hallucinating and it was actually my own dog Ginger running towards me. Except for the fact that this dog didn't flop over on its back with its tongue lolling out and its snaggle tooth showing, just begging for a good old belly rub. But Aunt's Nea's doggy 'Skye' was the perfect transition into heading back to see my own puppies later on tonight. I retrieved my key out of the mailbox, let myself into my room (the "Banana Room, appropriately named for its bright, cheery yellow curtains) and then threw myself on the bed laughing in disbelief. I managed to pick myself up off the heavenly cloud of white comforters and pillows to head down to get some dinner for my stomach that thought it was about 11:00 at night and was quite unhappy with me for not having fed it all day. As I sat there eating a seafood salad bursting with calamari, shrimp and scallops I had another one of those moments where you think, life just can't get much better than this. But... once again... it did.
Thursday morning I wake up to roosters crowing outside my windows. I was a bit scared for a minute since I thought to myself, what in the world are ROOSTERS doing outside the second story window of my snowed in Travelodge room??? And then I remembered, oh hey - I'm in Bermuda. Once again, what the heck. I wanted nothing more than to go running in Bermuda and just decided to overlook the fact that the only thing appropriate for exercising that I had in my possession was my pajamas. So yes, I went running my pajama pants and t-shirt and zip up Ked's tennis shoes. (Please take a moment to picture this, I can only imagine how ridiculous I looked...) As I sipped the cup of coffee she had handed to me the second I emerged from my room, I asked Rachael, the sweet little native Bermudian innkeeper how to get to the beach. She told me to take a left and keep running. So I did. Given that I was way more focused on the pristine, bright blue water and beautiful sandy beaches rather than where winding the roads were leading me, I soon found myself wondering whether I should turn around and just go back the way I came rather than trudging on with possible miles of road ahead of me not leading me back to the center of town. Then all of a sudden two women came into view just ahead of me... and my amazing morning in Bermuda began.
I called up to them to ask whether the road we were on led back to the center of town and they responded yes and gave me a street name. Then since we were all heading in the same direction, they asked me to join their little running group which included their labrador Sally. As we ran along talking I got to know Jen and her daughter Mia who have lived in Bermuda all of their lives and ended up completely confirming the article I read in our in flight magazine from London about the famous Bermudian hospitality. They asked me what I was doing in Bermuda and when I explained my situation to them they were just amazed and couldn't believe the travels that I had been through. We talked for the next few miles as we jogged past beautiful harbors that looked exactly like those photos you see in travel magazines which you seriously whether the crystal clear, turquoise water was retouched to achieve that perfect shade of blue. (I'll let you in on a secret - it's not digitized. It is real. It is breathtaking). It turns out they live right across the street from my innkeeper Rachael, in a beautiful bright yellow house built in the 1700's. We said our goodbyes and I thanked them so much for showing me back to my hotel and preventing me from wandering around aimlessly for hours on end. I let myself back into my lovely Banana Room and took a cold shower. How crazy is that?? I actually wanted to take a cold shower in December. The world has gone topsy turvy.
Soon afterwards, just as I am wondering what I should do with my morning, I hear a knock on my door and I open it to find Jen standing there warmly inviting me to come to her house so she can cook me breakfast. She absolutely insists up on it, so I accept and about 30 minutes later I find myself sitting on a stool at her kitchen counter annihilating the most delicious English muffin with scrambled eggs and cheese that I have ever tasted in my life. The next part of this story I still can't really believe happened.... the phone rings and it's her daughter Mia calling to say that she called her friend Sarah who works at the salon Cool Waters and she wants to give me a manicure and pedicure and get to meet me. I kept telling them this was all far too nice, but they just insisted. I am still amazed at how genuine and kind all of the people I met in Bermuda were. After being in an airport where not many people cared about your situation and weren't even interested in engaging in a conversation as you waited in line or stood around in the airport trying to be positive and wondering what to do, this was incredibly refreshing to say the least. So I finish up my breakfast and Jen walks me down to the salon where I meet Sarah and spend the next hour being pampered. (Once again, what the heck!!!) It turns out Sarah is from London and moved to Bermuda just three months ago for the job. She was so sweet and she friended me on Facebook and was also nice enough to give me Jen and Mia's address, since I will most definitely be sending them a thank you note and slightly late Christmas gift from Wilmington. I also took note of the name of the salon so that I can send Sarah a thanks as well. Then Jen came back to the salon to meet me and invited me to go with her for the shopping she had to do. I ended up buying another Christmas gift for my mom since hers is in my bag which is currently floating around somewhere in the Heathrow airport, along with a golden retriever stuffed animal that was way too cute to pass up and (drumroll please...) a CLEAN T-SHIRT!! Clean clothing has never felt as wonderful as when I slipped that short sleeved shirt over my head and realized I didn't even need a sweatshirt it was so warm outside. Pure bliss. Then Jen drove me all around the island and showed me a couple of beautiful little hidden beaches before she dropped me off at the airport.
I am having trouble even writing about this since I feel guilty for the fact that I am currently sitting at my gate about to head back to my hometown while so many other people are still in the Heathrow airport facing the reality of getting home after Christmas Day. I don't know how any of this happened, but it did and somehow I am getting back in time for the holidays. And somehow I got to get back in the most incredible way possible... It was very interesting to read a story in the Daily Mail newspaper as I was flying from London to Bermuda yesterday. I learned that BAA, the company that owns Heathrow airport, is a Spanish-owned operator who bought most of Britain's airports back in 2006 even though they were already in debt. This company may be focusing on modernization, building a new terminal and remodeling the older ones, they have no interest in allocating money for improving the actual running of the airport for the here and now. BAA slashed Heathrow's (the largest international airport in the world) snow defense budget by 2/3 to a mere £500,000 while Gatwick, a significantly smaller airport, allocates £8 million to cope with wintry conditions. Therefore, the British government is finding itself with little control over the fact that stranded passengers are queueing in tents outdoors to check in and camping out on the floor of Britain's premiere airport. They offered to send in troops to clear the snow and ice off the runways on Monday, but BAA refused and said that they had everything under control. Sorry, but when you have people sleeping on makeshift cots under foil blankets in your airport, I don't quite think you can call that having it 'under control' guys. But nice try.
So that was my little venting session about the Heathrow Airport. Although at times over the past few days I was very upset with British Airways, I do have to say that the representatives that I have actually come into contact throughout all of this have been incredibly helpful and attentive. The man who printed my boarding pass to Newark for me on Monday afternoon in the airport when the kiosks were out of service. The man who rebooked me to Bermuda. The man who printed that boarding pass for me even though he wasn't supposed to since it was from the Gatwick airport. The woman at the British Airways lounge here in Philadelphia who helped me with my lost baggage claims and then shooed me into the lounge and told me I better eat up some of their snacks and relax and use their internet after all that I had been through (even though I was not technically allowed to be in there... but let me tell you, they have some good food in those lounges!!) I do feel for all the workers who have had to deal with angry passengers yelling at them as if they personally performed a snow dance which caused air travel to come to a screeching halt right before Christmas. I do hope that Heathrow will get back to normal relatively soon. After reading a few news articles and seeing a flight take off from here in Philadelphia just a few hours ago, it does seem as if things are looking up. Just as long as it doesn't snow any more...
Well, I am now about fifteen minutes from both running out of charge on my computer and from boarding my flight to Wilmington. I cannot wait to sprint off the plane (I got a seat near the front to expedite the exiting process!) and run straight into my mom's arms. Nothing could sound better at this point. This has been one heck of an adventure, but I am ready to go home and lay low for a while. A week to be exact! This time next week I will be arriving in Seattle to spend New Years with Patrick and his family. So a week's hiatus from traveling and then off again on the next adventure! Something tells me this one will be much more sane than the one I just completed.
I guess this will be the last blog from armstronginscotland. Thank you so much to everyone who has followed me during the past four months and during all of my travels. I apologize for far too many rambling, lengthy blogs, but I thank you for sticking with me through everything :) As promised before, I will upload pictures just as soon as I am able to! Just wait til you see the water in Bermuda... :) Merry Christmas!!!
Love,
Katie
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