I promised earlier that I would write more about our visit to Belgium. There is so much to tell. I could spend a whole post on our journey. As always (we should carry rattles and cry out 'unclean' so people can hastily try and change their flights if they see us coming, there were some troubles. The first one only affected us. After my husband and I had to switch seats because the baby had to sit on the side of the plane with two seats, because of a pressure mask issue in case of an emergency, I forgot that I had unloaded some stuff already in the seatpocket. Of course after we had moved seats and trying to shepherd two children and enough carry on lugage to survive a European trip out of the small plane that brought us to Chicago, I forgot about the little pouch I had put in the seatpocket of my previous chair. And Bill, knowing he had not put anything in there, didn't check.
So in Chicao, I realized I was missing a pouch which contained two lipsticks, one mascara, some desinfecting wipes and.. my car keys, housekeys and keys to our church. Ouch. Especially the first. Because well.. how would we get BACK after our journey? And to top things off, this was one of those fancy smart keys that don't look like a key but cost over a hundred dollars to reproduce. Ouch.
Well, it was in a seatpocket. Clearly it would be found when they cleaned the plane, right? I mean, a three zippered, zebra striped fabric pouch would attract some notice, right? Up to our next flight. Which was delayed. Not that much. Just half an hour. We managed to keep the children calm and happy and preboarded. (Never preboard with children if you can avoid it. It just makes them sit strapped in longer. We only did it because we had to board with a car seat which makes it harder to get through if the plane is full.
Unfortunately after we had boarded and then everybody else had boarded... we did not move. We did not move for TWO HOURS, with strapped up children and not allowed to use electronics. First there was a storm over head, then the storm moved ahead to our prospective route, so we had to start in another direction to go around it, but of course we had to wait to get in line for taking off. This all added two hours to a 7 hour journey in a small metal tube with two children under four that were not allowed out of their seats.
Luckily they were pretty good travellers. They even slept for a few hours. No problems with passport controle or customs and we even got a number to call to the airlines lost and found in chicago. My mother waited for us and all seemed to be okay.
Seemed. We called lost and found and of course did not get to speak to a real person. There is an answering machine where you can record your lost item and they will call you back if they find it. So, don't call us, we'll call you. Maybe.
Despite fervent prayers to St. Anthony, no reply call or email. We try again a few days later. No reply, no phonecall, no email.
We need to find solution. Because without the key, we can not get home. It is a one and a half hour drive from the airport to our house. Since we have the security code of the key we hope a local toyota dealer might be able to replicate it for us. No luck. They can apparently only replicate the key, if they also have the car! We have a spare key of course, but that is in our house.
We are trying to think of solutions. A motelroom for me and the kids while Bill takes the shuttle home after a 24 hour journey and then turns around to pick us up the next day just does not sound doable. All four of us on the shuttle home would add another 200 dollars to the expense.
I get an epihphany! The mail! We are here for a full month. We will mail our housekeys (my husband's set, mine are gone with the pouch) to our neighbours. They will go in our house (and unfortunately witness the total chaos in there) get our carkey and mail it back to us. It sounds like a good plan. The neighbours are contacted, willing and able so our housekeys go in the mail. And take a detour apparently, because they appear at the neighbours house so late, it's just not safe anymore to mail something back, not even express! Especially since some tickets a friend of us has send us in the mail have completely dissapeared in the mean time. So now our neighbours have the keys, but how to get them in our hands by the time we arrive? We contemplate for a moment having them send to an airline representative on the airport but by now we are terrified of the mail messing one more thing up and then we would have NO more car key.
God be praised for great friends. After some searching around (since I can't use it in Belgium, I didn't bring my cellphone, which has all those easy contacts at hand that you would love to have with you in such cases), I find the number of my friend and fellow Youth Minister Anne. She is immediately prepared to drive up to Charlotte for an hour and a half to bring us the keys on the journey back. After a few more contacting issues, everything works out.
Our journey back is only marred by a child (not ours) screaming almost continuously (remember, this is over 8 hours of flying on that first flight back). We try to be patient and remember: there but by the grace of God go I. Another passenger is not thinking those thoughts though, and shoots off his chair, stomps over and demands of the mother who is cradling a baby in her lap, in a shout that she does something to keep the kid quiet. At that time, the father (didn't realize he was travelling with them too, but he was sitting in a seat a row further with a third child) shot up too, and the two men look ready to do battle. Air hostesses quickly descend upon the scene but for a minute, I sit transfixed and fear this plane is going to have to make an emergency landing due to out of control passengers.
The rest of our journey was actually uneventful. Next time though, I am bringing that Rattle. In comparison of some of our earlier journeys however, this one was actually.. tame. Somewhat.
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Unclean
Next time we travel, I am taking a rattle with me and I am yelling "unclean" "Unclean" all the way through the airport so people can be warned that they might want to reconsider traveling alongside us. We were fine when we flew to Washington, so I think Joseph is our little 'good luck charm' in travelling by plane.
It started with what I thought was a bout of nervous nausea. That became something akin to foodpoisoning the night before we were supposed to leave. It was BAD. The airline of course did not want to put us on a flight a day later since we had the cheaper, unchangeable tickets. (This despite the fact that they changed our unchangeable tickets months after they were booked because they cut a few flights out between the US and Brussels. But hey, only passengers need to be understanding of hard times. Airlines don't))
So, miserable with what I thought was foodpoisoning we started the hour and a half car ride to the airport. Joseph threw up in the car over his nice traveling outfit. It should have been a sign of things to come but we were naive.
Luckily I had packed a spare outfit and in a new onesie and new pants we travelled on. I can not praise my husband enough for he took all the childcare out of my hands and let me just lay down on the airport floor when that was possible. We were on time for our connecting flight and that one seemed to leave on time. Seemed.
Everyone went on board and then we sat stuck on the tarmac for three full hours with one stupid delay after another. The only thing I wanted was to be in the air, to have my sweet son fall asleep and to hopefully sleep myself. I was in constant fear of the toilet being occupied during one of my quick dashes there or that they would throw me off the plane if they noticed I was sick.
During this time, Joseph managed to blow out not just his diaper, not just his diaper and his onesie. But his diaper, his onesie, his pants, and even his socks. I changed him in the airplane toilet and after three of the longest hours of my life, we finally went in the air. Joseph behaved like a wonderful baby. I am so blessed so far each time with his behaviour as we travel. It took an age to get all our lugage, but everything did arrive and my mother was waiting for us. She took care of Joseph in the afternoon when I finally stretched out on a bed and could let the illness take it's course.
Everything seemed to be allright and ready for a nice vacation. Seemed.
The first night Bill became sick too. Clearly not foodpoisoning. Stomach flu. Joseph seemed happy the next day but vomited twice more and had diarrhea.
The next day my mother became ill. Jet lagged and unable to sleep at night my stomach refused to recover. I am now on day five or six of the bug. I am finally able to eat again, if I am careful with what I chose. Just in time for the first christmas party tomorrow.
It started with what I thought was a bout of nervous nausea. That became something akin to foodpoisoning the night before we were supposed to leave. It was BAD. The airline of course did not want to put us on a flight a day later since we had the cheaper, unchangeable tickets. (This despite the fact that they changed our unchangeable tickets months after they were booked because they cut a few flights out between the US and Brussels. But hey, only passengers need to be understanding of hard times. Airlines don't))
So, miserable with what I thought was foodpoisoning we started the hour and a half car ride to the airport. Joseph threw up in the car over his nice traveling outfit. It should have been a sign of things to come but we were naive.
Luckily I had packed a spare outfit and in a new onesie and new pants we travelled on. I can not praise my husband enough for he took all the childcare out of my hands and let me just lay down on the airport floor when that was possible. We were on time for our connecting flight and that one seemed to leave on time. Seemed.
Everyone went on board and then we sat stuck on the tarmac for three full hours with one stupid delay after another. The only thing I wanted was to be in the air, to have my sweet son fall asleep and to hopefully sleep myself. I was in constant fear of the toilet being occupied during one of my quick dashes there or that they would throw me off the plane if they noticed I was sick.
During this time, Joseph managed to blow out not just his diaper, not just his diaper and his onesie. But his diaper, his onesie, his pants, and even his socks. I changed him in the airplane toilet and after three of the longest hours of my life, we finally went in the air. Joseph behaved like a wonderful baby. I am so blessed so far each time with his behaviour as we travel. It took an age to get all our lugage, but everything did arrive and my mother was waiting for us. She took care of Joseph in the afternoon when I finally stretched out on a bed and could let the illness take it's course.
Everything seemed to be allright and ready for a nice vacation. Seemed.
The first night Bill became sick too. Clearly not foodpoisoning. Stomach flu. Joseph seemed happy the next day but vomited twice more and had diarrhea.
The next day my mother became ill. Jet lagged and unable to sleep at night my stomach refused to recover. I am now on day five or six of the bug. I am finally able to eat again, if I am careful with what I chose. Just in time for the first christmas party tomorrow.
Friday, October 3, 2008
The journey of a lifetime, part III (June 22, 2007)
When we came home to my mothers house on that last day from our visit to Durbuy we had the radio on. And what did the news tell us? There was a strike of the security personel in Charleroi airport, so that no flights would be leaving that day, the next, or the day after. Aaaargh!!!! After nummerous phonecalls and being on hold on a helpline (why are they always so unhelpful) we got told not to rebook yet, because they still might fly the next day and then we would not get a refund. An hour or so later, we did get permission to find alternative transportation.
Luckily we found another plane to go to London the next day, even though it meant getting up at 5 am> The good news was that we could bring a bit more back to the US and that this plane was going directly to Heathrow and our hotel would be 'right across the street from Heathrow', so that meant less lugging with heavy suitcases. At least, that is what we thought! After an emotional goodbye and an uneventful flight, we flew off to London, to discover at the hotelkiosk there that the hotel that was 'right across the street' was actually unreachable on foot and that we had to take the special hotelbus, which costs 4 pounds each, one way. NOT a good start.
Our rooms were nice, the hotelstaff friendly, and there was a free bus close to the hotel that would drive us to the nearest tube station to visit London where we were going to meet up with my best friend. Wonderful.
Except when we found out once safely on the tube that there were works going on and that the tube was interrupted by overpacked replacement busses which took half an hour or more for the 5 minute drive that it usually is between tube stations. In London we did meet up with my friend, got soaked wet in the 15 minute walk that we spend walking around (no rain for the rest of the day), my feet swole up again to the size of a small cabage, and the mass we were trying to attend since we would have to miss it on sunday was an hour later than we had hoped for. During the journey back, the busses were packed even more full and for the first time no one even thought to give the six month pregnant lady their seat. We arrived at the hotel tired and glad to be going home the next day.
So... being a bit weary now and on our guard for impending disasters we arrive at Heathrow more than four hours early. We get jostled from one terminal to the other, then finally found the right check in counter where again we have some problems checking in by the computer due to our paper tickets. Note to self: never use paper tickets anymore. We have to stand in line for over an hour, before hearing that despite reserving for an aisle seat and a window seat on the same row, we are on oposite sides of the plane, both in a middle seat.
By now, my feet are swollen up again and I ask for a wheelchair, since I know we will be standing in line much longer for security.. While the lady at the British Airways counter says it can't be done, a few minutes later, some of the airport personel is much helpful and after some waiting, a wheelchair arrives, we are whisked quickly through security and nicely placed in a quiet spot where we can wait till they will bring us to the gate. Thank goodness!
And indeed, on the appointed time, we are brought to the gate, only to be informed about fifteen minutes later that ooops... there is a malfunction with the plane which is quite serious. There will be an update on when we can leave in an hour. The plane ends up leaving two and a half hours late, which... you can guess it already, causes us to miss our connecting flight in Chicago to Charlotte. Wonderful.... *sigh* Luckily British Airways takes it's responsability and we are put in a nice hotel and are booked on another flight by US airways tomorrow morning at ten thirty. We call off C., my husbands collegue who is kind enough to come pick us up at the airport (since we still don't have a car of course) and he offers to come for us the next day.
So the next day we rise early, go to the airport and at 8.30 am are in a new line for those unfortunate people with paper tickets to check in. We wait more than half an hour for the one person before us to finish his business, hand over our paper slip, our passport and wait smiling. Only to be told that... we are not booked. We're not in the computer system. Not for today, yesterday, or tomorrow. Something must have happened, B.A. must not have booked. Anyhow, the plane is full, nothing they can do, no, they can't even call Brittish Airways, we have to go see them ourselves, in the other terminal of course!
Exhausted and close to tears, we drag our suitcases to the other terminal and find that the B.A. terminal doesn't open till 1 pm. There is however a phonenumber. A helpline, God help us! After hanging on the phone for half an hour we find out that they unfortunatley can't do anything for us, as this must be solved at the local airport, so we have to wait till 1 pm. We call C. again with thousand apologies and tell him we will call again as soon as we know more, but we know for certain we will not be in the airport at the right time.
So... three hours later, the counter opens. We get a nice young man with a thousand apologies and no clue what could have gone wrong who immediately proceeds to try and book us to Charlotte. The only flight on which he can get us guaranteed tickets is at 9 pm, but he assures us we will be able to get an earlier standbye flight with the airline. United Airways this time.
So over to the United Airways counter, again in the other terminal. Yes, he can book us standbye in a plane that goes at 3.30 pm. WOnderful. Great. We check in, again I am singled out for special inspection (gosh, I must look more dangerous than I thought), but we arrive safely at the gate and sit there and wait. By now we are nearly out of cash and getting hungry, because British Airways aparently didn't find it necessary to give us even a mealcoupon for this extra day spend on the airport.
We call C. again to tell him that at 3.15 we will know when we will arrive. At 3.15 we find out that the plane is delayed. Then that the pilot is delayed. At 4.45 when finally the boarding would start a great thunderstorm lights over the airport. And finally at 5.15 our names are called and we hear we can board. Then there is the small altercation in which they claim that we don't have a certain document and they won't let us fly while we, with tears in my eyes now, tell them that we have given them every document given to us, which of course is not their problem. Luckily they find the document that they accidentily tore up because they hadn't seen it ont he back of another one, stapled it back together and let us on the plane.
We need to wait in line for five other planes to depart, and then they close all runways due to a technical failing. Luckily it is quickly solved and at about 6 pm, we are finally airborn.
Miracle of miracles our lugage arrives with us in Charlotte. C. is waiting for us, and at 9.45 pm in the evening, we are finally home after what most certainly was....
the journey of a lifetime.
Luckily we found another plane to go to London the next day, even though it meant getting up at 5 am> The good news was that we could bring a bit more back to the US and that this plane was going directly to Heathrow and our hotel would be 'right across the street from Heathrow', so that meant less lugging with heavy suitcases. At least, that is what we thought! After an emotional goodbye and an uneventful flight, we flew off to London, to discover at the hotelkiosk there that the hotel that was 'right across the street' was actually unreachable on foot and that we had to take the special hotelbus, which costs 4 pounds each, one way. NOT a good start.
Our rooms were nice, the hotelstaff friendly, and there was a free bus close to the hotel that would drive us to the nearest tube station to visit London where we were going to meet up with my best friend. Wonderful.
Except when we found out once safely on the tube that there were works going on and that the tube was interrupted by overpacked replacement busses which took half an hour or more for the 5 minute drive that it usually is between tube stations. In London we did meet up with my friend, got soaked wet in the 15 minute walk that we spend walking around (no rain for the rest of the day), my feet swole up again to the size of a small cabage, and the mass we were trying to attend since we would have to miss it on sunday was an hour later than we had hoped for. During the journey back, the busses were packed even more full and for the first time no one even thought to give the six month pregnant lady their seat. We arrived at the hotel tired and glad to be going home the next day.
So... being a bit weary now and on our guard for impending disasters we arrive at Heathrow more than four hours early. We get jostled from one terminal to the other, then finally found the right check in counter where again we have some problems checking in by the computer due to our paper tickets. Note to self: never use paper tickets anymore. We have to stand in line for over an hour, before hearing that despite reserving for an aisle seat and a window seat on the same row, we are on oposite sides of the plane, both in a middle seat.
By now, my feet are swollen up again and I ask for a wheelchair, since I know we will be standing in line much longer for security.. While the lady at the British Airways counter says it can't be done, a few minutes later, some of the airport personel is much helpful and after some waiting, a wheelchair arrives, we are whisked quickly through security and nicely placed in a quiet spot where we can wait till they will bring us to the gate. Thank goodness!
And indeed, on the appointed time, we are brought to the gate, only to be informed about fifteen minutes later that ooops... there is a malfunction with the plane which is quite serious. There will be an update on when we can leave in an hour. The plane ends up leaving two and a half hours late, which... you can guess it already, causes us to miss our connecting flight in Chicago to Charlotte. Wonderful.... *sigh* Luckily British Airways takes it's responsability and we are put in a nice hotel and are booked on another flight by US airways tomorrow morning at ten thirty. We call off C., my husbands collegue who is kind enough to come pick us up at the airport (since we still don't have a car of course) and he offers to come for us the next day.
So the next day we rise early, go to the airport and at 8.30 am are in a new line for those unfortunate people with paper tickets to check in. We wait more than half an hour for the one person before us to finish his business, hand over our paper slip, our passport and wait smiling. Only to be told that... we are not booked. We're not in the computer system. Not for today, yesterday, or tomorrow. Something must have happened, B.A. must not have booked. Anyhow, the plane is full, nothing they can do, no, they can't even call Brittish Airways, we have to go see them ourselves, in the other terminal of course!
Exhausted and close to tears, we drag our suitcases to the other terminal and find that the B.A. terminal doesn't open till 1 pm. There is however a phonenumber. A helpline, God help us! After hanging on the phone for half an hour we find out that they unfortunatley can't do anything for us, as this must be solved at the local airport, so we have to wait till 1 pm. We call C. again with thousand apologies and tell him we will call again as soon as we know more, but we know for certain we will not be in the airport at the right time.
So... three hours later, the counter opens. We get a nice young man with a thousand apologies and no clue what could have gone wrong who immediately proceeds to try and book us to Charlotte. The only flight on which he can get us guaranteed tickets is at 9 pm, but he assures us we will be able to get an earlier standbye flight with the airline. United Airways this time.
So over to the United Airways counter, again in the other terminal. Yes, he can book us standbye in a plane that goes at 3.30 pm. WOnderful. Great. We check in, again I am singled out for special inspection (gosh, I must look more dangerous than I thought), but we arrive safely at the gate and sit there and wait. By now we are nearly out of cash and getting hungry, because British Airways aparently didn't find it necessary to give us even a mealcoupon for this extra day spend on the airport.
We call C. again to tell him that at 3.15 we will know when we will arrive. At 3.15 we find out that the plane is delayed. Then that the pilot is delayed. At 4.45 when finally the boarding would start a great thunderstorm lights over the airport. And finally at 5.15 our names are called and we hear we can board. Then there is the small altercation in which they claim that we don't have a certain document and they won't let us fly while we, with tears in my eyes now, tell them that we have given them every document given to us, which of course is not their problem. Luckily they find the document that they accidentily tore up because they hadn't seen it ont he back of another one, stapled it back together and let us on the plane.
We need to wait in line for five other planes to depart, and then they close all runways due to a technical failing. Luckily it is quickly solved and at about 6 pm, we are finally airborn.
Miracle of miracles our lugage arrives with us in Charlotte. C. is waiting for us, and at 9.45 pm in the evening, we are finally home after what most certainly was....
the journey of a lifetime.
The journey of a lifetime, part II (June 21, 2007)
Well, there we are. In Belgium. Home with my mother. Finally able to rest. We haven't scheduled many exciting things as we mostly like to enjoy the feeling of being home in Antwerp, seeing my family again and relishing the thought of 'being home'. There were however two things that we really wanted to do: go to the Efteling, where we had also been on our honeymoon for a day and attend the nearby Medieval festival. Unfortunately, my mother scheduled a family barbecue on the day of the festival, so attendance proved impossible. Still... it would be nice to see my family again, right? Well yes. It was. For the first two hours. Then they proceeded to make our innocent barbecue into a drunken riot. On their request we had put the barbeque earlier since 'people needed to work' the following monday. SInce it was logical and since family is more important than medieval fairs, my mother and I agreed. They left our house by ten o clock in the evening, roaring drunk, because my mother refused to serve them any more alcohol and they couldn't find any. They had even gone through the fridge etc. to find more bottles. From our house they went to another cafe to drink and left us cleaning up the mess they had made. Since my temper was getting the better of me, I had chosen wisely to spend the last part in the evening cleaning up and doing the dishes and handbrewing coffee to prevent me from saying something. This is the third time they're doing this. And three of them are the ringleaders. Next time I'll ask my mom to have a tea party or something when I introduce my son to the family. Whether or not he is a baby, he doesn't need to go through this and neither do I.
In the mean time, a medical problem had reared it's head. I hadn't been able to wear flightsocks during the journey to Belgium and my feet were so swollen that when we visited a friend in the revalidation center, my ankles were more swolen than hers. I know it's a common pregnancy symptom but they were getting so bad that I couldn't walk and didn't go down. Luckily, I could go to my Belgian doctor who still had all my old records, etc. Bloodpressure was normal, but I got an order to sit with my feet up the entire time. I could walk and move, but I could not sit with my feet down. Hmmm... that's becoming harder and harder to do stuff during the vacation. My favorite embroideryshop had aparently gone and closed or moved or whatever in the last six months and I couldn't find some of the stuff I had wanted to import. A minor inconvenience, but by that time, they started to add up. Luckily we did find the sugarbeans (a Belgian tradition that I will talk about later) and the little bags for it in another shop, but not, of course, the embroidery supplies.
The weather was also not cooperating and unfortunately my husband had to spend a lot of his time on the computer and the phone dealing with the insurance company to try and retrieve enough from the car to buy a new one. I developed a throat infection aside from my ankles and needed plenty of rest, so we were forced to annul the last week of our trip in England. Trying to exchange our tickets, we found out that it would cost about 300 euro's to do so, so we had to let the tickets go and rebooked on a budget airline for a return to London one week later. We also booked a hotel in Heathrow that was advertised as: right across the street from the airport. Wonderful. At least we would have no trouble on the road back, right? It was too bad that we wouldn't see some friends in England that we had missed for the last two years, but health comes first, and a stressless trip home was becoming more and more important.
Each day we monitored the weather in Tilburg, the nearest city to the Efteling. I feel profound pitty for the people who lived there, because for three weeks, they didn't get anyhting but heavy shower and storms, so we had to skip that outing too. At the very last day, of our stay, my mother had taken the day off from work to hopefully go to the Efteling, but the weather had not turned and doing a fairytale park amidst thunderstorms is just not a great idea. We gave up this threat then, although it really saddened me, as I wanted pictures there of me pregnant for my sons baby book. Instead we went to the Ardennes and showed my husband a part of the country he had not yet been to. We visited the castle of Modave and a small village called Durbuy. I was so happy. I thanked my mother for the outing, saying how wonderful it was that we could still end the journey on a high note.
I should not have said that.....
In the mean time, a medical problem had reared it's head. I hadn't been able to wear flightsocks during the journey to Belgium and my feet were so swollen that when we visited a friend in the revalidation center, my ankles were more swolen than hers. I know it's a common pregnancy symptom but they were getting so bad that I couldn't walk and didn't go down. Luckily, I could go to my Belgian doctor who still had all my old records, etc. Bloodpressure was normal, but I got an order to sit with my feet up the entire time. I could walk and move, but I could not sit with my feet down. Hmmm... that's becoming harder and harder to do stuff during the vacation. My favorite embroideryshop had aparently gone and closed or moved or whatever in the last six months and I couldn't find some of the stuff I had wanted to import. A minor inconvenience, but by that time, they started to add up. Luckily we did find the sugarbeans (a Belgian tradition that I will talk about later) and the little bags for it in another shop, but not, of course, the embroidery supplies.
The weather was also not cooperating and unfortunately my husband had to spend a lot of his time on the computer and the phone dealing with the insurance company to try and retrieve enough from the car to buy a new one. I developed a throat infection aside from my ankles and needed plenty of rest, so we were forced to annul the last week of our trip in England. Trying to exchange our tickets, we found out that it would cost about 300 euro's to do so, so we had to let the tickets go and rebooked on a budget airline for a return to London one week later. We also booked a hotel in Heathrow that was advertised as: right across the street from the airport. Wonderful. At least we would have no trouble on the road back, right? It was too bad that we wouldn't see some friends in England that we had missed for the last two years, but health comes first, and a stressless trip home was becoming more and more important.
Each day we monitored the weather in Tilburg, the nearest city to the Efteling. I feel profound pitty for the people who lived there, because for three weeks, they didn't get anyhting but heavy shower and storms, so we had to skip that outing too. At the very last day, of our stay, my mother had taken the day off from work to hopefully go to the Efteling, but the weather had not turned and doing a fairytale park amidst thunderstorms is just not a great idea. We gave up this threat then, although it really saddened me, as I wanted pictures there of me pregnant for my sons baby book. Instead we went to the Ardennes and showed my husband a part of the country he had not yet been to. We visited the castle of Modave and a small village called Durbuy. I was so happy. I thanked my mother for the outing, saying how wonderful it was that we could still end the journey on a high note.
I should not have said that.....
The journey of a lifetime, part I (Ju7ne 20, 2007)
I just came back from the journey of a lifetime. Unfortunately, I don't mean that in a positive way.
It started with the entire passport mess that you can read about in this post. Some of you may have read about it in the paper. My husband was one of those unlucky people who, despite having orderded his passport renewal twelve vweeks in advance, needed to drive nine hours up to Washington, three days before our journey, to then stand in a line for three hours, be aproved and come back another four hours later to actually get the passport.
However, when he made the call that he actually had his passport in his hand on thursday at four pm and was about to start travelling home, I thought the stressful part of our journey was over. I was at the postoffice when that wonderful phonecall came and decided to run home to sit down and call the good news to all the people praying for this. Running home, I fell down rather hard. Nothing serious, but I had this nasty little asphalt burns on my hands and the side of my shin (due to instinctive turning so as not to fall on my pregnant belly) and was bruised all over. Still, even that could not dampen the joy. I did go to my downstairs neighbour who was happy to pach me up. WHile I sat there I got another phonecall from my husband: Someone had rear ended him and luckily he was well, but our six month old car was total loss. The other guy was citated but here we are. This was thursday evening. He was in Washington. And we needed to get on a plane in Charlotte North Carolina in less than 48 hours.
Thank heavens for our downstairs neighbours and some friends in Washington. Bill stayed the night with the friends, then we found him a flight home the next day. They brought him to the airport and our downstairs neighbours not only helped me pick him up from the airport in Charlotte, but brought us back down there the next day as well.
So.... we are in the airport, everything is nice and we are on time and we relax, thinking it's time to let the stress go and enjoy the holiday. Okay, I was singled out for special control by the airport security (aparently, a 31 year old caucasian pregnant woman is a high risk), but that's just a tiny thing, even amusing in itsself. We go to the gate, and then our plane is delayed. By more than an hour and a half it turns out.
Despite alerting the stewardesses, we are not allowed to deboard first or anything upon arrival and we have about 30 minutes before our next plane leaves, which includes switching terminals. Running around, my legs hurting, by belly bouncing we get to the right terminal only to be informed there at the check of boarding passes pre security that ... they gave us the wrong boarding passes this morning. We need to go back to the main hall to British Airways to get new ones. What? We checked in this morning, they assured us we had everything. Nope... sorry. Nothing I can do. Rules are rules. "But our plane leaves in 25 minutes... they will have started boarding already by now and we still..." Sorry... just go back to Brittish airways check in. We do. We run through the airport like maniacs, belly bouncing, legs hurting, get the right boarding pass, are hurried back, wait in line for security despite our green priority sticker and actually DO get on the plane, wonder above wonder before the door closes. And there was much rejoicing.
That is....until we arrived in Heathrow, London some eight and a half hours later to find out that our luggage did not come with us. We needed to wait in line for an hour or so before being able to speak to someone, but they were friendly, looked it up and found out that our luggage was still in Newark where we had made our connection. It would be delivered in Belgium 'as soon as possible'. We got our connecting flight without much problems but were informed when arriving at the airport in Brussels that it would certainly not be today and probably not tomorrow before we had some luggage. Still, my mother waited for me at the airport we were whisked away home and all seemed well with the world.
It started with the entire passport mess that you can read about in this post. Some of you may have read about it in the paper. My husband was one of those unlucky people who, despite having orderded his passport renewal twelve vweeks in advance, needed to drive nine hours up to Washington, three days before our journey, to then stand in a line for three hours, be aproved and come back another four hours later to actually get the passport.
However, when he made the call that he actually had his passport in his hand on thursday at four pm and was about to start travelling home, I thought the stressful part of our journey was over. I was at the postoffice when that wonderful phonecall came and decided to run home to sit down and call the good news to all the people praying for this. Running home, I fell down rather hard. Nothing serious, but I had this nasty little asphalt burns on my hands and the side of my shin (due to instinctive turning so as not to fall on my pregnant belly) and was bruised all over. Still, even that could not dampen the joy. I did go to my downstairs neighbour who was happy to pach me up. WHile I sat there I got another phonecall from my husband: Someone had rear ended him and luckily he was well, but our six month old car was total loss. The other guy was citated but here we are. This was thursday evening. He was in Washington. And we needed to get on a plane in Charlotte North Carolina in less than 48 hours.
Thank heavens for our downstairs neighbours and some friends in Washington. Bill stayed the night with the friends, then we found him a flight home the next day. They brought him to the airport and our downstairs neighbours not only helped me pick him up from the airport in Charlotte, but brought us back down there the next day as well.
So.... we are in the airport, everything is nice and we are on time and we relax, thinking it's time to let the stress go and enjoy the holiday. Okay, I was singled out for special control by the airport security (aparently, a 31 year old caucasian pregnant woman is a high risk), but that's just a tiny thing, even amusing in itsself. We go to the gate, and then our plane is delayed. By more than an hour and a half it turns out.
Despite alerting the stewardesses, we are not allowed to deboard first or anything upon arrival and we have about 30 minutes before our next plane leaves, which includes switching terminals. Running around, my legs hurting, by belly bouncing we get to the right terminal only to be informed there at the check of boarding passes pre security that ... they gave us the wrong boarding passes this morning. We need to go back to the main hall to British Airways to get new ones. What? We checked in this morning, they assured us we had everything. Nope... sorry. Nothing I can do. Rules are rules. "But our plane leaves in 25 minutes... they will have started boarding already by now and we still..." Sorry... just go back to Brittish airways check in. We do. We run through the airport like maniacs, belly bouncing, legs hurting, get the right boarding pass, are hurried back, wait in line for security despite our green priority sticker and actually DO get on the plane, wonder above wonder before the door closes. And there was much rejoicing.
That is....until we arrived in Heathrow, London some eight and a half hours later to find out that our luggage did not come with us. We needed to wait in line for an hour or so before being able to speak to someone, but they were friendly, looked it up and found out that our luggage was still in Newark where we had made our connection. It would be delivered in Belgium 'as soon as possible'. We got our connecting flight without much problems but were informed when arriving at the airport in Brussels that it would certainly not be today and probably not tomorrow before we had some luggage. Still, my mother waited for me at the airport we were whisked away home and all seemed well with the world.
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