So a week after my last blog post (about Belgium and Germany), I turned in my final papers for the semester, took a Spanish exam, and once again, went jet-setting. Since it was my last travels of the semester and my friend's last travels while abroad because she chose to study for just one semester, we decided to go to what other than the beautiful land of Stockholm for a few days and then end our trip in Copenhagen, Denmark. After finding great plane fairs and well priced hotels, I was off to meet up with my friend, Liz, in London and from there catch our flight out of the UK. But big problem. As I have traveled many times with Liz before while studying in England, we always decided on a place that seemed cool and different to go to and travel around, never EVER checking the weather forecast. From Southern California, and Liz from San Francisco, it had never even occurred to us to check the weather in different places because we always just assume that the weather will stay the same wherever we go. Wrong.
For the cheapest airfare, Liz and I bought tickets leaving from London to Stockholm at 6 in the morning. But because these are all international flights, they recommend you arrive at the airport two hours early, therefore, our recommended time being at 4 am. Liz suggested we get hotel for the night in London close to the airport, but I, being the 'bearer of good ideas' came up with what seemed to be a 'better' solution at the time. "Why waste money on a hotel that we have to leave at 3:30 am, when we can just hit London for the night and sleep on the plane?" And at the time, pulling an all-nighter with Liz seemed like a fun idea, granted our plane ride to Stockholm was only be a two hour flight, not giving us much of a nap time. However, once hearing my idea, she agreed that it would be way more fun to party than to sleep.
Because I wouldn't be coming back to school to get my big suitcase to take home with me before flying back home for break, Liz and I decided to go to Heathrow before we started our 'party all-nighter' night to drop off our suitcases at the luggage storage when we traveled around Stockholm and Copenhagen. But because we didn't look up opening and closing times for the luggage storage place in Heathrow, we both booked trains that were getting into London after it was closed. Of course. So 10 pounds and the cost of the different ticket fee later, I was booked on an earlier train in order to make it to drop off my well over 50 lbs bag. Because the train station is about a 30 minute walk and I'm a real girl when it comes to hauling around overweight bags, I decided to call a taxi to drive me to the train station. With the taxi driver being 15 minutes late, I grew frantic about my train departing without me. But because it was only a 5 minute drive, I made it with time to spare...and LOTS of time at that. The screen read: Paddington, Platform 5, delayed over an hour.
Crap. I had changed my original train booking from that one, to this train (that should have been leaving an hour earlier) so that I would get to Heathrow before the luggage storage place closed. I tried talking to different people working there, asking if I could jump on the train that would be arriving in 10 minutes without paying another change fee, but of course, I was out of luck. But because I am stubborn and have a hard time taking 'no' as an answer, I decided that one way or another, I was going to get on that next train.
Dragging my gigantic suitcase behind me, I made my way over to Platform 5 to talk to somebody new and explain my situation. Well, rather than explain my real situation, I found an older lady and told her that I needed to get on the next train because I had a plane to catch at Heathrow. Even though my flight wasn't until the next morning, and it was leaving out of Stansted and not not Heathrow, I still don't count it as a lie because I did need to get to Heathrow stat. But rather than saying anything back to me, the train lady responded by burping in my face. "Oops, sorry. Don't tell anyone but I've had a few drinks tonight", she told me. Not knowing what to say back to her, she looked me in the eye and then whispered into my ear, "Well, if you were my age and working at a train station, you'd be drinking too." Nodding with agreement, I felt her take me by the hand. "Look, I'll tell you what, when I look at you, I see a lot of myself, so I'm going to help you here. I'll talk to the train manager and let you get on the next train." And then of course, there was another burp after. Even though I was grateful that she was able to get me on the right train, I was a little worried by the fact that an older, drunken train lady saw a lot of herself in me. But even though she was drunk and sloppy, she did come off quite classy due to her British accent.
Once on the train and seated, I was a little freaked out by the man sitting next to me. Here's why: 1. He kept calling me lovely. 2. His hands and fingers were filled with dirt. 3. I fell asleep and when I woke up he was taking a picture of me. This man was creepers. So rather than wait around and be kidnapped by him, I decided to get up and stand by my suitcase for the duration of the train ride.
Finally I made it to Heathrow and stored my suitcase safe and sound. Liz's train was delayed too, so rather than wait around, she took a very expensive cab ride over to the airport in order to make it before the place closed.
So after our journeys from school to London, neither of us were in the mood to hit the town, and quite frankly, all I wanted was a hotel room so we could sleep until our flight. But because of my 'brilliant idea' to go out and party instead, there we were, in London at midnight, exhausted and wanting to relax in a bed. Also, I forgot to mention, I was sick with a cold (yes, with which I did infect Liz with on our trip).
But luckily, Liz and I found a 24 hour cafe, got some coffee and tried to stay awake. But then when the crowd got weird, Liz and I bolted and waited in the train station for it to open to catch our train to Stansted Airport. Finally, we made it to Stansted with about 4 hours to kill, most of which we spent sleeping on the airport benches. Once in line for boarding, they announced to stay in line, but that our flight was delayed 30 minutes due to severe weather conditions in Stockholm. Crap. I did not pack accordingly. But with sleep as our main concern, Liz and I curled up on the floor (to stay in line) and fell asleep on the airport floor until our plane started boarding. Not an ideal night of sleep.
And of course, our two hour flight turned into five hours. Because of the severe snow, our plane was unable to land in the scheduled airport, and had to circle in the air until a different airport would allow us to land. Now at some random airport way outside of Stockholm, Liz and I had pre-bought bus tickets from the other airport to the city center. And after about an hour and a half shuttle ride from the random airport, to the airport that we were originally supposed to arrive in, we missed our bus to the city center (by like 6 hours). After getting new tickets, and eight hours after we were supposed to arrive, Liz and I finally made it to what we found to be the snowiest city in the world...Stockholm.
Exhausted from the journey, we met up with our friend who was studying abroad there, got dinner, showered, and crashed for the night on his couches. But because he had to catch his flight and be out of his apartment the next morning at 6 am, that meant that we had to be out of his apartment by 6 am. So the next morning, after not a full night's sleep after an all-nighter, we were thrown out into the bitter cold weather hours before anything was open. Upon getting frostbite on our toes, we found an open coffee shop and sat there until the christmas markets opened. But once at the christmas markets, a blizzard hit.
Also, another tid-bit about Stockholm in the winter time...THE SUN DOES NOT EXIST. I'm not even being a little dramatic here. It was literally dark every hour of the day. And cold.
With already two pairs of knee socks on to keep warm, Liz and I HAD to purchase another pair each (made from alpaca) in order for our toes not to actually freeze off of our feet. And even with the extra alpaca, the snow still made it's way into my boots to freeze off what little feeling I had left in my feet. 
Liz and I decided that this trip we would ditch the hostels and stay in hotels. Little did we know that HOTELL (with two L's) is the Swedish word for hostel. Assuming they just added an extra L for the fun of it, we ended up booking and checking into the weirdest and not so nice HOSTEL in the middle of the woods. But at that point, we were just so happy to see beds, that we got in our pajamas and jumped into our cots and fell asleep. Our third night on the trip and only our first night in a bed, I assumed that nothing would be able to wake me from my needed sleep. Wrong. In the middle of the night, someone rattled our door handle, waking the both of us and thinking that someone was trying to break in. It turned out that someone forgot their own room number and thought that ours was theirs. And then there was the man snoring in the room next to us. Yes, we were able to hear him through a wall. And of course, the fire alarm went off twice in the middle of the night. I would not recommend this hoteLL.
Still blizzarding outside the next morning, we were afraid that maybe our flight from Stockholm to Copenhagen would be cancelled and after being blizzarded in the day before and after our bad nights sleep, we were ready to move onto the next city.
And then we heard the news about Heathrow. Heathrow: Shut down on account of weather, should open within the next few days. Shut down? But we were supposed to be flying into Heathrow from Copenhagen and then from Heathrow to Los Angeles for me. And at that moment, after being blizzarded in for the second day in Stockholm, I wanted nothing more but the Southern Californian sun rays, to be sleeping in a bed, let alone my bed. But now, with Heathrow shut down, I had an awful pit in my stomach that wouldn't be able to be relieved until I was on my British Airways flight to LAX. Rather than be snowed in at our hostel, we decided to get to the airport early and call our parents to let them know what was going on (which ended up being 2 in the morning West Coast time), Oops. Both our parents suggested we try and get back to Heathrow asap, even if that meant cutting time short in Copenhagen. But because the airline told us it would be a 500 pound charge fee (almost $900) to go straight to Heathrow from Stockholm, we decided to wait until we got to Copenhagen to try and get back to London. But at least Stockholm wasn't a total bust...I did end up meeting a special someone...
Once landed in Copenhagen, we did everything we could do to try getting to any airport in London. But with Heathrow still being closed, everyone else in the Copenhagen airport had the same idea as we did, in which every seat to London on every plane was taken. Being told that we could not change our flight, we decided to not worry about it anymore and just to be in good spirits and everything would work out.
And once in Copenhagen, everything was going a lot smoother. Our hotel was a real hotel with a real bed. No fire alarms, no snoring men through the walls. So for the first time in three nights, we were able to sleep in peace. However, remember how I said I was sick at the beginning of the trip? Well, finally after a good nights sleep, I was better, but now, Liz was the one holding the fever. I felt bad so I pumped her up with advil, and we were ready to explore Copenhagen.
With just a little snow on the ground, Liz and I were able to really enjoy the city.
But my favorite part of Copenhagen was that my dream came true. Ever since studying abroad in London, I have been wanting to take pictures with the guards outside Buckingham Palace while making a funny face. Well, when I went to Buckingham Palace, I had a reality check because that only exists in movies. All of the guards are actually inside the gates so you can't even take pictures with them. However, Copenhagen is the real city of dreams, and my dreams did come true.
But once thrown in the situation, I grew a little frightened of the guards. They had huge guns, and I'm not talking muscle. Their guns, (weapons), were huge and I didn't want to get too close to make them think I was trying to attack or anything. So when it came time to do the silly faces and get close, I chickened out a little. Although, once their backs were turned, I wasn't afraid to chase them!
In Copenhagen, we saw the changing of the guards:
We saw amazing statues:
And, later that night we went to an amazing Christmas market/carnival. We saw ice sculptures being made!
As a whole, I LOVED Copenhagen!
Well, let's say I loved Copenhagen until we got stuck in Copenhagen...
Again, we decided to book an early flight back into London Heathrow because we both had flights out later in the day from Heathrow (mine was three hours later to LAX, and Liz was had an eight hour layover to then go forth and meet her family in Israel). But with the news about Heathrow, I started to panic. I knew that if my flight into Heathrow was delayed even a little, I would miss my flight to Los Angeles, and that would be tragic. But that was the worst case scenario and with what had happened with all of my travels thus far, I was bound to have something right/good finally take place.
So with another early morning flight leaving out of Copenhagen, Liz and I decided once again, to not get a hotel room and instead, pull an all-nighter. But this time it would be better. Now that we've had a couple nights sleep and were feeling less sick, we could last the night. And plus, we wanted to celebrate our last night together in Europe since Liz was headed back to Kenyon for the Spring semester. So after doing our make-up and changing into new outfits, we got ready only to find out that Monday nights in Copenhagen are dead. Everything was closed. So our big night celebration quickly turned into a low key night of watching another blizzard take place right before our eyes. And this did not put me in a good mood. I knew that our flight couldn't be delayed into Heathrow or else I would miss my next flight. But with this storm, my hopes of getting to Los Angeles were not very promising.
So rather than sit around and watch the snow, we decided to take the metro to the airport early. Even though our flight didn't take off until 7:50, we were there at 3 am. I always think that getting to airports early is getting prepared. But what happened next, I was definitely not prepared for.
Since it was 3 am, all of the airport workers were still at home asleep in their beds. But because we were there, we decided to check the screen anyway, just to make sure that our flight was still on. But after minutes of searching for our flight from Copenhagen to Heathrow, we still couldn't find it anywhere on the monitor. We tried checking into a computer with an e-ticket, but there was no record of our flight. My heart sank faster than a rock sinks in water. Our flight did NOT exist. It was not up on the screens, the computer had no record of it, and of course, Copenhagen was now blizzarding.
I picked up my cell phone and called home. Luckily since it was three in the morning for me, it was only 6 at night in LA. And as soon as I started explaining to my parents that my flight didn't exist, I felt tears streaming down my face quicker than I was ready for. My dad said that he was worried that it was cancelled because for the past few days, both my parents were checking into my flight statuses to make sure that I would not be trapped in Heathrow, and he said just a few hours ago, my flight disappeared from the website. Liz, the good friend that she is, tried reassuring me that it was just some technical problem and that our flight would be back on the monitor board in no time. In the meantime, we had two hours to spare until we could speak to an airline representative. We changed our clothes, brushed our teeth, got some Starbucks, and then assured ourselves first in line by starting to wait at 3:45 am.
At 5 am we finally talked to someone. The flight from Copenhagen to Heathrow at 7:50 = CANCELLED due to weather in England. My heart sank even lower in my chest, and tears were spouting from my face when the lady then told us that the next flight we could get on was for the same exact flight the following. Not only would I miss my flight home to LA, but now Liz was going to miss her flight to Israel, the flight neither of us were worried about her missing because of an eight hour layover. But, welcome to our lives.
Liz and I split up. Liz went to see if she could get on a flight to Israel for the following day, and I sprinted to British Airways to see if I could fly out of Heathrow a day after I was supposed to because now, we were trapped in Copenhagen. After about an hour waiting in line, Liz found me and told me that she was able to get on a flight to Israel for the next day which gave me hope for my case as well. Finally, after waiting in line for four hours to speak with an airline representative, I received devastating information. Seeing that I was originally supposed to fly out the 21st, and now I was trying to assure myself a seat on the 22nd, my heart dropped yet again when the rude little man behind the desk told me that I wouldn't be able to get on a flight from Heathrow to Los Angeles until the 26th. "You'll miss Christmas," he told me. And that's when the waterworks really hit. I hadn't seen my family in so long and after such a stressful trip all I wanted was to go home and hug my mom and dad, snuggle with Lucy, and celebrate the holidays with them. But this little man was telling me that this would not be an option for me this holiday season. I begged him to see if there were any other flights out to Heathrow because my dad suggested on the phone that if I were to just get to Heathrow, maybe they would be able to help more. "No. Every seat to Heathrow is taken and those flights will probably be canceled anyway," the little man said. And then the words that haunted me for the rest of the day: "Good luck getting to Heathrow and then good luck getting out of Heathrow," the ugly little man said as I was leaving his counter. But I kept what dignity I had left and rather than shout something rude back at him, I cried into Liz's Israeli-bound shoulders.
Liz was now determined to get us both to Heathrow that day. She had a flight to catch the next day and like my dad, she thought it would be best for me to get to Heathrow too, even though the little man made me think otherwise. But because the entire Copenhagen airport was trying to catch a flight to London, we traded in our Heathrow tickets (because we didn't have any hopes that it would fly out the next day if the same exact flight was cancelled) and flew to Birmingham, England instead. One plane ride and a three and a half hour train ride later, we were in Heathrow. And Heathrow was not a happy looking place. I sent an e-mail to my parents calling it 'Hotel Heathrow'. It was serving more as a hotel than an airport, but a better way to describe it is Homeless Shelter Heathrow. That's what it looked like, a giant homeless shelter. Person upon person sleeping on the floor, huddled together, holding a hot chocolate to stay warm.
The first thing we did once we arrived at Heathrow, (the time being 1 am), was go straight to the only open cafe. We hadn't eaten all day, but at that point all we wanted were hot chocolates to stay warm until the next morning because once again, the English do not believe in central heating, even when their airports cancel 500 flights and know that their travelers are sleeping on cold, tile floor. Being in Heathrow was a sad sight. There were people wrapped in tinfoil to keep warm. When Liz and I were walking around, we saw two guys running up and down the escalator and using their tinfoil blankets as capes. Liz and I gave them a weird look, and they looked back at us and said, "We've been stuck here for four nights already. You would be doing this if you were stuck here for four nights too." And just then I pictured myself playing on the escalator using my tinfoil blanket as a cape. Except the worst part about it was that in my imagination, I was doing it all alone because Liz would be in Israel. I guess that's one way to spend your Holidays. But I shook that picture out of my head and was even more determined to catch the first flight to LAX.
After Liz and I drank our hot chocolate, we went to the bathroom, brushed our teeth, and thought about washing our hair in the sink due to our lack of hygiene because we had no way of showing for the past 2 days. Not before long Liz and I found a place on the floor and rested our eyes for a nap.
After only a 45 minute sleep within the past 48 hours, Liz woke me up to inform me that people were already queuing to talk to the British Airways representatives. Baffled at how long the line was at 3 am, I got in line and stayed in the exact same place until the desks opened at 5 am. In line I met a guy who had already been stuck in Heathrow for 6 nights. He said he was trying to get back to New York to see his children, but now he doesn't have a seat on a plane until the 27th...after Christmas and a full other week in Heathrow. He told me that they won't put him up in a hotel because there are already too many people being put up in hotels, so he waits in line every morning so that he can fly standby just in case there is an opening. Well, I guess I had another American there to spend Christmas with in the airport if I were to be stuck for an addition week.
After waiting for hours, I finally made it to the front of the line at 6:45 am. I explained my situation once face to face with a representative and I showed her the boarding pass I had printed out for my flight that I had missed to LAX. After a few clicks of the button, she handed me a boarding pass flying out of Heathrow to LAX at 10:15 am for the current morning!!!! I couldn't believe my eyes and even asked her is that ticket was really for me. She smiled at me and told me to go get my bag out of storage because the queue to check bags is about 2 hours long and she didn't want me to miss my flight...again. Overjoyed and after not having any sleep (except for that 45 minute nap) for over 54 hours, my eyes filled with tears of happiness and out of pure excitement, I reached over the desk and hugged the British Airways representative. I told her that she was making my holiday season complete, but rather than smile back, all she said was, "Well, I'm glad that you have a flight home. It's just hard because I wish I could help all of these people." And as she said that, I looked over at the guy who I had been waiting in the queue with and he gave me a thumbs down...he did not get a flight home to New York. Feeling sorry for him, I gave him a thumbs up, signing that I got a flight home.
Liz helped me get my bag out of storage, we hugged goodbye, and we were off to our different flights. When checking my bag, my suitcase was well overweight. I asked the lady if I had to pay extra and she said that by looking at me, it looked like I had been through enough already, and let my oversize suitcase travel without an extra fee. Upon boarding my direct flight to LAX, I soon learned that the only available seat left was in business class, and spent my flight stretched out on the business class bed and slept for ten hours.
When I got my flight, I immediately called home. My parents weren't home to hear the good news, but my brother was waiting by the phones in case I called. We decided to surprise my parents with my return and pretend as though I was still stuck in 'Homeless Shelter Heathrow'. But to my surprise, both my brother AND my dad were there waiting for me at LAX (Lucy was waiting in the car). They decided that I would only be a surprise for my mom (because Matt wasn't sure if he could pick me up from the airport, so he had to tell my dad). Not only was my mom surprised, but she was also mad that no one told her I got a flight! So there I was, at home, in time for Christmas with my family!
The holidays were great, my mom's cooking was great, and being able to sleep in a bed, MY bed, was great. And Lucy was so cute! I couldn't have asked for a better winter break. But after three weeks of being at home and being able to do absolutely nothing, it had to come to an end.
Back in England for a little over a week now, I definitely already love this semester a lot more than last semester. Seeing that the weather is nice and warm, my room is all set up, and I have a great group of friends, I know that this last term in England is going to fly by. I have already planned a ton of trips with my friends, and after next weekend, I am going to be traveling Europe almost every one of my FOUR day weekends (I don't have classes Friday's or Monday's, and only one on Thursday). Just my schedule alone is an improvement from last term. And just last weekend I discovered my new favorite place in Exeter. Take a look:
And the beautiful Exeter Cathedral:
So now that I have found a new jogging spot on the river, I love Exeter and its beauty all the more! I promise never to go a full month again without blogging so keep reading about all of my future European adventures!
