College roommie Diana was due to meet her boyfriend Eric in Spain a couple of weeks ago. He was already in Europe on business, and the plan was to have Diana fly out and meet him in Barcelona; Eric would be coming from London. And then, the heavens and the earth moved between them in the form of Iceland’s volcanic eruption that grounded all planes for days, and what followed was an Amazing Race type obstacle course in travel for Eric to find his way to Diana’s side. As it was going on, I received updates from Diana via text message and status updates on a social networking site. She cursed the Eyjafjallajokull volcano. She made observations about Spain. (“There sure are a lot of naked people at the barcelona beach.”) She ate a few dinners alone. Eric offered, via the social networking site, to have dinner with her, and then interrupted himself with, “Oh wait. I’m stuck on this stupid island.” The stupid island of England. The story does have a happy ending, due to enormous effort on Eric’s end. I texted Diana, as it was happening, that I was very impressed by Eric’s tenacity. She texted back that she was, too, and if she ever had a doubt as to being with him long-term (not that she did), this experience would’ve clarified everything for her. I invited Diana to be my guest blogger to talk about this crazy trip, so here it is, in her own words that she wrote on the flight back:
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This trip to Spain started off rocky (literally). On the morning of my departure, I heard from Eric that his flight from Glasgow was canceled due to the Iceland volcano eruption, sprewing massive amounts of ashes high into the atmosphere, and that he would drive to London with coworkers. I didn’t know how far that was, but it turned out to be something like 6 hours. He had no idea if he could fly out of London to meet me in Barcelona, but the further south he could go, the better.

As I arrived in Barcelona Friday morning, I was greeted with more bad news. Much of European air space was shut down, and definitely no flights out of London. Eric said he would head to the train station and see what his land options would be. Since I had so much time to kill, I made my way to the hotel via public transportation. It took a little exploring and time, but only cost me 6.4 euros (as opposed to a taxi, which is like 35 euros).

The W Barcelona is amazing — trendy and offers a not-stuffy-type of luxury. I got upgraded to a room facing the mediterrean with a view of the city. But I felt alone and empty. I had no idea when Eric would get here, as flights were canceled, and buses and trains and rental cars were full. His days consisted of waking up very early and going to bus and train stations to figure out how to get out of London. Sometimes he would make multiple trips a day. Rest of the time he would be on the internet reading about the options as well as the news updates on the travel restrictions. I, on the other hand, forced myself to at least explore the city a little, mostly along the beach areas, where it is not as crowded. I was barely hungry and ate only one meal a day, even in the midst of delicious catalan food, and time suddenly seemed to go by very slowly.

Saturday morning I was woken up by his call — I knew he had gone to the train station to try to get on the Eurostar from London to Paris, but those trains had been packed because everyone was trying to get out of London via train. Eric said he had gotten up around 5 and was heading to the train, but had a feeling that he should check online, and when he did, he noticed there were tickets available that morning so he rushed to pack and check out to board the train. Although he didn’t know what he would do after he arrives in Paris, as Paris airports were closed and french rail (SNCF) may be on strike. But Paris is a little closer to Barcelona.

I jumped out of the bed and went to talk to the concierge, who told me SNCF is on strike until at least Monday, so no trains are running, and buses are full until Tuesday, and same with rental cars. I was so disappointed, and my glimmer of hope was nearly extinguished. But I was determined to see to it that even if Eric couldn’t get out of Paris, he would at least have a place to stay. So I went to the business center to book him a hotel near Gare du Nord — not ideal, but that’s where his Eurostar arrives. I also decided to read French news on the strike, because I had a hard time believing SNCF would strike at a time when air travel was crippled. Nothing about the strike on French24 news channel. Thank goodness for the little French I was able to read.

Indeed, when Eric arrived in Paris, he wasn’t able to take a connecting train or bus that day out of Paris. So he headed to the hotel, and search for a way out started. It was disappointing, because that meant more days apart and cuts into our vacation. Still, getting out of London was a great move, as flights remained canceled and more and more people tried to take the trains.

The next day he was able to get a train ticket leaving Paris Tuesday AND a bus ticket leaving Monday. Both are overnight trips, and he kept both tickets in case one didn’t work out. So at this point, we at least knew when he would be in Barcelona. But this also meant we had to cancel our Sevilla trip and miss April Fair, the biggest party (week long) in Andalusia.

Eric’s bus was to arrive Tuesday around 6 am — I was not able to sleep the entire night, and was awake before his bus arrived. Then it was about a 15 min metro ride to the hotel. I actually walked out of the hotel to meet him at the metro station, but half a block from the hotel, I saw a guy in a baseball cap across the street with a suitcase and backpack, looking around. It wasn’t quite daylight but I knew it was him. I ran towards him, my flip flops hitting the cobblestone street, making a distinctive sound that resonated in the quiet morning hours.

We hugged for a long time, and for the first time on this trip, I cried. I had held back tears the whole time I had been here, because I wanted to be strong. Otherwise he would be even more anxious and worried about getting here, when he already was doing all he could. But it didn’t matter anymore, and we could finally start our vacation, 4 days late.

The rest of the trip was great — lots of sightseeing, eating, walking around, and relaxing. We never got sick of tapas, paellas, and I have a newfound love in jamon iberico (cured ham made from iberian black pig fed with acorns). We enjoyed the siestas very much and took a nap every day. (I think we were both sleep deprived during the time we were apart.) We didn’t get to visit Sevilla but we will be back.

In some ways, this trip was inconvenient, a lot of lost vacation time, and extra money spent. But significantly, it gave us a chance to see how we behave in time of crisis. And we both did fabulously. There was never any complaints or anger. Rather, we worked as a team to try to solve the problems, despite being sad and anxious. Most importantly, we trusted each other’s decisions (such as when he was on Eurostar, I booked him 2 nights in a Paris hotel and when he arrived, I just told him where to go.). I think this is a key to a successful partnership, and I have no doubt that ours will be a successful one.

(P.S.: During my moments of uttermost darkness and total despair a couple of years back, CT always said that in time, I would meet a great guy, be married to him and have kids like I always thought I would. And everything that made me sad would just dissipate and not matter anymore. Even during those times, as hard as it was to look forward, I remained hopeful that she would be right. I guess it pays to have that kind of faith.)
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Happy ending, didn’t I tell you? As this was going on, I gave Mr. W occasional updates of their progress. He said more than once that if it had been us, he would’ve been content to just stay in Paris or London, and I could enjoy Barcelona, and we just won’t bother moving mountains to come together. Hmmph. He tried to pacify my displeasure by saying that the above would never happen to us because we’d never travel separately like that, but still. I’m happy to see that Eric understands what we go through when our loved ones are not where they’re supposed to be, especially if where they’re supposed to be, is by our side. Good job, Diana.