Neither the London office nor STA were much help when Mum called them for me from England. I tried calling Bogotá and eventually got through, but the woman I spoke to was useless and just said that I was on the waiting list and would have to wait till at least 20 August unless I wanted to buy a ticket for a September flight, and didn't seem to understand what my ticket situation was at all.
The parents insisted that I buy a new flight home on them to get me home ASAP, and we can hassle Iberia for a refund later. Rich is going away on Monday and Mum sometime this week too, they want to see me before I go. So a trip to the travel agents in Bogotá later and I had myself a flight with American Airlines leaving 7.35am via Miami and Boston to get to Manchester at 7.35am on Sunday.
I'm scared to write it and tempt fate to screw me over again, but, fingers crossed, finally, I'm coming home tomorrow!
Friday, August 10, 2007
Going nowhere yet
Pissing fucking airline companies. Aarrrrrghhhh! Why is noone explaining what is going on? Why are they being so bloody awkward?!!
They say I probably can't get home till at earliest 20 August. So frustrating!!!
Had a lovey chat with Laura on the MSN video calling function yesterday afternoon. That cheered me up a lot. Then I went to the cinema to avoid the cokeheads offers of coke trying to drag me out with them. Watched The Simpsons in Spanish. Wasn't too hard to understand, and was just what I needed. Enjoyed it a lot.
Ended up going out with the cokeheads anyway when I got back. They're actually really friendly and normal. Mostly. There's a crazy Irish dude but he's funny and he seems to like me. Ended up playing cards whilst pot and coke got passed round in the common room of the hostel till 4am. Was fun. Maybe waiting won't be truly awful.
They say I probably can't get home till at earliest 20 August. So frustrating!!!
Had a lovey chat with Laura on the MSN video calling function yesterday afternoon. That cheered me up a lot. Then I went to the cinema to avoid the cokeheads offers of coke trying to drag me out with them. Watched The Simpsons in Spanish. Wasn't too hard to understand, and was just what I needed. Enjoyed it a lot.
Ended up going out with the cokeheads anyway when I got back. They're actually really friendly and normal. Mostly. There's a crazy Irish dude but he's funny and he seems to like me. Ended up playing cards whilst pot and coke got passed round in the common room of the hostel till 4am. Was fun. Maybe waiting won't be truly awful.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Still waiting.
Thought I could fly today. There was a cancellation so there was a space from Bogotá to Madrid then Madrid to London. But then the man came back and said I couldn't go because there wasn't a flight from London to Manchester. I said I didn't care but he said they had to issue tickets for the rull route I'd purchased or none at all. Even in Bogotá, I get Little Britain. Computer says noooo.
Plus my hostel is full of crazy cokeheads. Not in the mood for socialising, especially not with cokeheads who stress out about getting their next fix. They snorted lines in my dorm last night. To be fair they offered me some.
Just want to get home, waiting is shit.
Plus my hostel is full of crazy cokeheads. Not in the mood for socialising, especially not with cokeheads who stress out about getting their next fix. They snorted lines in my dorm last night. To be fair they offered me some.
Just want to get home, waiting is shit.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Not home yet...
I think my day started to go wrong when I got toothepaste on my t-shirt this morning. Then I left my walking boots under my bed in the hostel in Cartagena.
Right now I SHOULD be somewhere over the Atlantic well on my way home. Instead, I’m still in Colombia. And I don’t know when I can get home or how much it’s going to cost me.
I queued for over an hour to get to the front of the queue to check in at the Iberia desks, with all my bags packed and ready, only to be told when the lady entered in my ticket reference that the change I thought I’d made to my flights about 4 months ago had not been confirmed. I was not on the flight. I couldn’t believe it. I had a printout in my hand with the details of my changed flights, under which was written “reserva confirmada” and “feliz viaje”. I knew I hadn’t yet paid for the change but I had been told that I could pay here in Bogotá. I wasn’t told that unless I paid for the change some time in advance of the flight (have no idea when) my reservation would be cancelled. Apparently this is what had happened. I didn’t know how to react. I tried unsuccessfully to fight the tears.
“You have to go to the Iberia office,” the lady at the desk told me. “Upstairs?” I asked, assuming there’d be an office in the airport as there is in every other airport. “In the centre of the city.” My heart sunk. “Is it far?” “About 45 minutes away.” I was definitely crying now. “Is there a chance I can make it?” I begged in broken Spanish. She pulled a very sceptical face. “Check-in closes at 4.” Then she added, “But the flight is full.”
“Can I leave my bags here whilst I go and find out and come back?” “No.” I got my bags together again and went to find a taxi.
I didn’t want to leave South America, but by now I was set on flying home today. I didn’t want to stop travelling but I definitely didn’t want to extend my time like this. I was looking forward to going home. I’d been picturing meeting my family at the airport, driving home, sharing a pot of tea, going to the pub with my friends. They were all expecting me. I was very pissed off. With Iberia mainly, for not explaining the process to me when I’d changed my flights (or thought I had) in Buenos Aires, for not having an office in the airport, for making me queue for ages, for their plane being full, for not letting me on anyway when I started to cry. And at myself, for getting into this mess. Why hand’t I called up to confirm the flight 48 hours ago like they always tell you to?
I accepted the offer of a taxi from a dodgy looking guy in a mismatching tweed suit holding a sign for some hotel and an umbrella. Normally I’d have steered well clear from a man like that but I didn’t really care at that point. I was highly sceptical when he returned in a beaten up little red car (real taxis are yellow) with no taxi sign, and for much of the way I wondered whether I was about to be robbed or worse. Fortunately he just ripped me off.
Waiting in the Iberia office was agony. It was like going to the deli counter in my old local supermarket. Despite telling them it was urgent, I was given a ticket and told to wait my turn. Finally a young assistent stopped with his paperwork and called me over. I blubbed what had happened in bad Spanish and waited for his response but he didn’t even look at me, just took my printout and started tapping keys on the keyboard and reading the screen casually, occasionally chatting to the girl at the computer next to him. I felt like screaming but I just sat waiting anxiously wiping the tears away. Eventually he told me again what the lady in the airport had already told me. “But what am I supposed to do?” I asked.
The flight was full, I couldn’t fly today. They didn’t know what the situation was with my ticket tariff, and BA operated the London-Manchester leg of the flight, so nothing can be done until they hear from London. But he’s either put me on the waiting list for the same flights tomorrow, Friday and Saturday, or he will do if it’s cleared with the London office tomorrow. He’s going to email me when there is any news. I have to wait.
I have a new printout with the times of these flights. Above them on the same printout is a list of my flight to Quito in January (FLWN) as well as the flight I’d originally booked from Sao Paulo on July 30th (also FLWN). I really really do not want to pay another fortune for another flight. I really really want to get home.
On the brighter side, I managed to find a bed in the same hostel that Hayley (a lovely girl I met in my hostel in Cartagena) is in. I met her when I arrived. It was great to have a friend to tell my problems to, and getting to the hostel and seeing her made me cheer up a lot. She’d managed to get money out from the bank this morning, so her crisis was resolved. She understood how I felt. We went to the world famous gold museum this afternoon, which was really impressive and tastefully done, and took my mind off my situation. So I’m feeling less emotional. I just want to get things sorted out. Doubt I’ll take up my crazy Irish roommates’ offer to join them on a night out. Need to be ready to rush around tomorrow morning to chase a flight.
Right now I SHOULD be somewhere over the Atlantic well on my way home. Instead, I’m still in Colombia. And I don’t know when I can get home or how much it’s going to cost me.
I queued for over an hour to get to the front of the queue to check in at the Iberia desks, with all my bags packed and ready, only to be told when the lady entered in my ticket reference that the change I thought I’d made to my flights about 4 months ago had not been confirmed. I was not on the flight. I couldn’t believe it. I had a printout in my hand with the details of my changed flights, under which was written “reserva confirmada” and “feliz viaje”. I knew I hadn’t yet paid for the change but I had been told that I could pay here in Bogotá. I wasn’t told that unless I paid for the change some time in advance of the flight (have no idea when) my reservation would be cancelled. Apparently this is what had happened. I didn’t know how to react. I tried unsuccessfully to fight the tears.
“You have to go to the Iberia office,” the lady at the desk told me. “Upstairs?” I asked, assuming there’d be an office in the airport as there is in every other airport. “In the centre of the city.” My heart sunk. “Is it far?” “About 45 minutes away.” I was definitely crying now. “Is there a chance I can make it?” I begged in broken Spanish. She pulled a very sceptical face. “Check-in closes at 4.” Then she added, “But the flight is full.”
“Can I leave my bags here whilst I go and find out and come back?” “No.” I got my bags together again and went to find a taxi.
I didn’t want to leave South America, but by now I was set on flying home today. I didn’t want to stop travelling but I definitely didn’t want to extend my time like this. I was looking forward to going home. I’d been picturing meeting my family at the airport, driving home, sharing a pot of tea, going to the pub with my friends. They were all expecting me. I was very pissed off. With Iberia mainly, for not explaining the process to me when I’d changed my flights (or thought I had) in Buenos Aires, for not having an office in the airport, for making me queue for ages, for their plane being full, for not letting me on anyway when I started to cry. And at myself, for getting into this mess. Why hand’t I called up to confirm the flight 48 hours ago like they always tell you to?
I accepted the offer of a taxi from a dodgy looking guy in a mismatching tweed suit holding a sign for some hotel and an umbrella. Normally I’d have steered well clear from a man like that but I didn’t really care at that point. I was highly sceptical when he returned in a beaten up little red car (real taxis are yellow) with no taxi sign, and for much of the way I wondered whether I was about to be robbed or worse. Fortunately he just ripped me off.
Waiting in the Iberia office was agony. It was like going to the deli counter in my old local supermarket. Despite telling them it was urgent, I was given a ticket and told to wait my turn. Finally a young assistent stopped with his paperwork and called me over. I blubbed what had happened in bad Spanish and waited for his response but he didn’t even look at me, just took my printout and started tapping keys on the keyboard and reading the screen casually, occasionally chatting to the girl at the computer next to him. I felt like screaming but I just sat waiting anxiously wiping the tears away. Eventually he told me again what the lady in the airport had already told me. “But what am I supposed to do?” I asked.
The flight was full, I couldn’t fly today. They didn’t know what the situation was with my ticket tariff, and BA operated the London-Manchester leg of the flight, so nothing can be done until they hear from London. But he’s either put me on the waiting list for the same flights tomorrow, Friday and Saturday, or he will do if it’s cleared with the London office tomorrow. He’s going to email me when there is any news. I have to wait.
I have a new printout with the times of these flights. Above them on the same printout is a list of my flight to Quito in January (FLWN) as well as the flight I’d originally booked from Sao Paulo on July 30th (also FLWN). I really really do not want to pay another fortune for another flight. I really really want to get home.
On the brighter side, I managed to find a bed in the same hostel that Hayley (a lovely girl I met in my hostel in Cartagena) is in. I met her when I arrived. It was great to have a friend to tell my problems to, and getting to the hostel and seeing her made me cheer up a lot. She’d managed to get money out from the bank this morning, so her crisis was resolved. She understood how I felt. We went to the world famous gold museum this afternoon, which was really impressive and tastefully done, and took my mind off my situation. So I’m feeling less emotional. I just want to get things sorted out. Doubt I’ll take up my crazy Irish roommates’ offer to join them on a night out. Need to be ready to rush around tomorrow morning to chase a flight.
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