So, recall my "Try me, life" post? Literally 10 second after I clicked publish, an announcement was made to our gate that our flight was now cancelled. There were no available flights that night or early morning, and each of us was confirmed on the same flight tomorrow- 6:55pm, the 30th. We would need to retreive our luggage, and be re-checked in tomorrow.
Immediately, I was surrounded by swearing, sneering, and occasionall crying people.
I, on the other hand, had the most enormous grin on my face that I'd had in day.
This was no curse. This was a blessing. This was the universe saying "Hey! You're doing alright! Have a cookie!" to my defiant spite and determined attitude vis a vis Africa.
Within two hours, I had collected my luggage, a letter of apology and explanation from the Airline...
And a voucher for a limo that would take me the downtown Sheraton, where I had an enormously hot shower, and then snacks and red wine with my parents before a night spent sleeping on a Sheraton "cot" (which was, God Bless Sheraton, a full-on single bed complete with cloud mattress, linen sheets, and down comforter). Today, I will phone to airline to confirm my connecting flight to Capetown, whenever I may get there, which is not important.
What is important is that I will be going out for lunch with my parents shortly on a wonderful Sunny Canada Day Weekend, and that afterward I will be having a long, scalding bath, possibly with a glass of something chilled and delicious and alcoholic, and then my limo (!) will pick me up at approximate 2:30, courtesy of British Airways.
I have never been so utterly thrilled. I feel like this is a nod, perhaps, to my desperate stuggling to maintain positivity and calm, and that perhaps I've done well enough to be allowed my bath after all. Either that, or the capricious, mercurial vein of Gods appreciate a good show of To Hell With You! Either way, I do not fail to fully appreciate this. My dad said last night, "We were worried you would have to sleep on the floor! We didn't know if our room would fit a cot!" And I shrugged, drank my wine, and replied "The floor is horizontal, not in an airport, and near you both. Three blessings, right there."
Ok, more on my feelings about this later. Now- To the Pickle Barrel with my Parents!
Thank you, Universe! If my flight to Capetown takes 4 days and I arrive half-dead and zombie-like, I will be glad I arrived at all!
Saturday, 30 June 2012
Friday, 29 June 2012
The Saga continues.
I write to you here in Toronto Pearson Airport, at approx. 5:54 in the evening.
After all the pathos of the last few days, I'd finally made it to the airport, and on a plane. I arrived yesterday afternoon to Sao Paolo... To learn that my flight to Washington was delayed... By nearly 3.5 hours. My connection to Toronto had to be rebooked. Though I arrived in Washington at 9:30 in the morning, the next available flight to Toronto wasn't until 12:55 in the afternoon, putting me into Toronto at 2:15.
No bath, no nap, parents only for a few hours.
The hits were, by now, piling up considerably.
I was a bit tight-chested for a bit, but I Skyped with my sister, watched a touching childhood movie, and talked myself into positivity. Things could still be worse, I should be glad I wasn't missing my flight to London or Capetown.
At about 12:15am, I was finally on board to Washington, and passed the night half sleeping, and the morning watching Big Bang Theory.
In Toronto, I didn't get my luggage.
Sorry, I'll clarify. I received one of my bags... The small one, mostly packed with souvenirs for my parents to take home for me.
That... was the last of it for me.
I know I was tearing (and trying desperately to hide it) while I filled out the claim and explained to the VERY patient service agent that I needed to catch another international flight this evening, and that I needed my luggage sent on to me there. It's now arranged that almost all my clothes, toiletries, towel, etc. will be on the next available flight to Capetown, which may or may not a few days after I get there. Between the waiting for luggage, the service agent, customs, and needing another person to confirm the sending on of luggage, by the time I walked out into the terminal it was nearly 3:30, another hour gone that I could have spent with my parents, and when I saw my Father waving I completely burst into tears at the utterly overwhelming madness of my last 48 hours.
I ranted, through snot and tears, about whether or not I was going to die in South Africa, or the plane was going to blow up, and maybe I was missing some cosmic sign and why did this keep happening to me?
My parents were gold about it all, of course. A caesar was fetched, encouraging words were spoken, and the extra suitcase to transfer home my detritus from Chile and Brazil were traded for mail, chocolate bars, and a few new non-smelly t-shirts. Life improved enormously. We checked me in, they fed me dinner and another ceasar, and after a too-short meeting I headed through security, played around on my computer, and went through boarding, onto plane, no trouble.
Until we STAYED on plane for over an hour and a half, getting periodic updates about "engine trouble" and were eventually deplaned until the engineers are finished working on it. Apparently, a peice must be replaced, and they were able to get it from Air Canada, and the problem is easy to fix- but the after testing process is "lengthy", so they will "Keep us posted". It is now an hour and a bit later, and I'm on my computer, exhausted to the point of aching eyeballs, and feeling a bizarre mixture of my new-found nerve trying to fight down my desire to wallow in self pity and comfort myself through depression and familiar angst.
Bugger angst!
My sister did basic training- I can do this! I can handle four days of sleeping poorly under flourescent lights and being jerked around by the capricious, mercurial hand of fortune! I will get to Africa, and if I don't have my luggage, then screw the luggage! I will buy clothes if I have to! I have my toiletries, I have my flats, and at least a handful of underthings!
YOU HEAR THIS, LIFE?
TRY ME! I DON'T CARE IF IT'S IN A WEEK SUFFERING DEHYDRATION AND SLEEP-DEPRIVATION-PSYCHOSIS, I WILL GET THERE, AND I WILL DAMN WELL THRIVE!
I write to you here in Toronto Pearson Airport, at approx. 5:54 in the evening.
After all the pathos of the last few days, I'd finally made it to the airport, and on a plane. I arrived yesterday afternoon to Sao Paolo... To learn that my flight to Washington was delayed... By nearly 3.5 hours. My connection to Toronto had to be rebooked. Though I arrived in Washington at 9:30 in the morning, the next available flight to Toronto wasn't until 12:55 in the afternoon, putting me into Toronto at 2:15.
No bath, no nap, parents only for a few hours.
The hits were, by now, piling up considerably.
I was a bit tight-chested for a bit, but I Skyped with my sister, watched a touching childhood movie, and talked myself into positivity. Things could still be worse, I should be glad I wasn't missing my flight to London or Capetown.
At about 12:15am, I was finally on board to Washington, and passed the night half sleeping, and the morning watching Big Bang Theory.
In Toronto, I didn't get my luggage.
Sorry, I'll clarify. I received one of my bags... The small one, mostly packed with souvenirs for my parents to take home for me.
That... was the last of it for me.
I know I was tearing (and trying desperately to hide it) while I filled out the claim and explained to the VERY patient service agent that I needed to catch another international flight this evening, and that I needed my luggage sent on to me there. It's now arranged that almost all my clothes, toiletries, towel, etc. will be on the next available flight to Capetown, which may or may not a few days after I get there. Between the waiting for luggage, the service agent, customs, and needing another person to confirm the sending on of luggage, by the time I walked out into the terminal it was nearly 3:30, another hour gone that I could have spent with my parents, and when I saw my Father waving I completely burst into tears at the utterly overwhelming madness of my last 48 hours.
I ranted, through snot and tears, about whether or not I was going to die in South Africa, or the plane was going to blow up, and maybe I was missing some cosmic sign and why did this keep happening to me?
My parents were gold about it all, of course. A caesar was fetched, encouraging words were spoken, and the extra suitcase to transfer home my detritus from Chile and Brazil were traded for mail, chocolate bars, and a few new non-smelly t-shirts. Life improved enormously. We checked me in, they fed me dinner and another ceasar, and after a too-short meeting I headed through security, played around on my computer, and went through boarding, onto plane, no trouble.
Until we STAYED on plane for over an hour and a half, getting periodic updates about "engine trouble" and were eventually deplaned until the engineers are finished working on it. Apparently, a peice must be replaced, and they were able to get it from Air Canada, and the problem is easy to fix- but the after testing process is "lengthy", so they will "Keep us posted". It is now an hour and a bit later, and I'm on my computer, exhausted to the point of aching eyeballs, and feeling a bizarre mixture of my new-found nerve trying to fight down my desire to wallow in self pity and comfort myself through depression and familiar angst.
Bugger angst!
My sister did basic training- I can do this! I can handle four days of sleeping poorly under flourescent lights and being jerked around by the capricious, mercurial hand of fortune! I will get to Africa, and if I don't have my luggage, then screw the luggage! I will buy clothes if I have to! I have my toiletries, I have my flats, and at least a handful of underthings!
YOU HEAR THIS, LIFE?
TRY ME! I DON'T CARE IF IT'S IN A WEEK SUFFERING DEHYDRATION AND SLEEP-DEPRIVATION-PSYCHOSIS, I WILL GET THERE, AND I WILL DAMN WELL THRIVE!
Wednesday, 27 June 2012
Two Thousand Dollar Humility
As it's now shortly after seven thirty in the evening, it seems fitting that the entire saga began approximately 24 hours ago.
I returned from Rio on Monday, riding the high of exoticism and confidence, after three heavenly days of beaches, sunshine, and beautiful, tourist packed scenery. I knew this was my last week in Brazil, and that my flight on June 28th was fast approaching. On Tuesday, I attended my second last class, spoke briefly with the co-ordinator about how my flight left a few days earlier, and afterward and had mall sushi for dinner before heading home, with nought but peace of mind knowing I'd made the most of my time in Brazil.
It was approximately 7:40pm on June 26th that I pulled out my flight information in order to confirm my flight for the 28th...
And realized that my flight had left at 1:55pm earlier in the afternoon. My flight from Florianopolis had left at 1:55pm the 26th. My flight from Sao Paolo was leaving at 6:30pm the 26th, and my flight from Santiago to Toronto was leaving on the 27th. I was supposed to be IN Toronto on the 28th, in order to see my parents for a night, have a solid sleep and a bath at the Sheraton, and catch my flight to Capetown at 6:50pm, June 29th.
I described it in an email to my parents as a combination of thoughtlessness, carelessness, and possibly cosmic hubris.
I'd been discussing for some weeks now how one of the core values I would like to strengthen in myself is humility, but also how I had a great deal of fear, because humility is gained only when something happens hard and fast enough for life to really get to rub your nose in it, and I was afraid how that might occur.
Another aspect of myself I've been trying hard to adjust is my constant attachment to expectation. Things go my way, or they simply don't go. I make up my mind to not enjoy something.
So, as I stared in bewildered, creeping shock at my flight dates, I'm sure a number of thoughts ran through my head, but I actually don't remember any of them. I took my papers, found Corey in the other room, and said,
"I have a problem." I indicated my dates.
"Today?" His eyes widened.
Another inner failing is that I have always had a problem with accepting help from others and, worse still, acknowledging that others have more experience or knowledge of anything.
However, with the dawning realization of the world of utter ballsed-up I had just entered, and the settling feeling of So THIS is something I'm going to learn this summer..., I was highly aware that I was fortunate enough to be with not only a seasoned world traveler, but someone who had many times planned, fixed, and expedited his own and others travel details. I let the comforting buffer of emotional shock catch up with me and, with an utterly gobsmacked shrug, handed him my crisis book of phone numbers and bookings, and told him:
"I don't know how to fix this."
I don't know how has literally been my shoot-in-the-foot quality that I have grappled with for years. I have always loathed showing anything but instant adeptness at anything I turn my hand to. It perhaps seems at odds, because I know my own intelligence, and my own speed of learning. What is harder to see is the fact that when are you are intelligent and learn quickly, laziness is an easy vice. You don't have to study, you don't have to overly prepare, you can slapdash together what you need and get an A+. When I came across things I was less good at, I didn't work at it. I ignored it, and saw it as a faintly interesting pursuit that other people had. Admitting that not only are there things I don't know and am not prepared for was bad enough, but being forced to admit that there are things I don't know and NEED to know but don't is worse. Especially when there is no other blame but that which lies with me.
Within 15 minutes, Corey was on the phone with TAM airlines, LAN airlines, and Air Canada, explaining to me, in between holds, that he was checking if there were any flights to allow me to catch up in either Sao Paulo, Santiago, or in fact anything that could bring me to Toronto on time.
I followed with a note book and pen, nodding and absorbing and getting into a very zen state about it all.
One thing I always thank crisis mode for is that it's so much easier to stay calm, because it's already happened. The flight was missed. The shit had happened, and all I had to do was keep my head and focus on dealing with it. So, I took deep breaths, drank many glasses of water, and paid attention.
After over an hour and a half of alternate hold periods (at some point, when I asked what I could do, I was told to go pack, just in case) it had been determined that no flight would get me a catch-up to my previously booked tickets, and so the best course of action all airlines could recommend was to book a new ticket from Florianopolis to Capetown.
I was continually more and more aware of how EVERYTHING I had been most afraid of this Summer had happened:
1) Made a stupid cock-up, for no other reason than irresponsibility
2) Proved myself a failure who couldn't take care of herself
3) Lost value amounting to thousands of dollars
4) Failed at striding about the world independently
And there was no way to hide my shame from anyone.
...And it really wasn't so awful.
I realized I wouldn't see my parents, or have my bath at the Sheraton, or even use 4000.00 worth of plane tickets I had already paid for. But, you know what?
My legs could both have been broken.
I could have been born in Saudi Arabia.
I could be a thalydomide kid with something in my eye. (Tim Minchin)
Really, if I had needed a crash course in anything, life could have been rougher with me. It was a mistake, and an expensive one, but that's all it was. An expensive mistake. And for all the sheer stupidity of it and loss of worth, I had still had an unreal summer, where I had done amazing things, and border hopped, and learned more than I ever thought I could in less than two months. So what- I'll go straight to Capetown, fix things as best I can, and hopefully the experience will teach me not to let it happen again, and if it does, I'll have learned what to do.
It was, cosmically eerie enough, very shortly after this realization that I clued into another possibility as Corey browsed his bookmarked travel sites for the cheapest flight to South Africa.
"Wait- If I need to pay 1500 to get to Capetown from here anyway, I might as well just pay that to get a new ticket to Toronto entirely, and still use the Toronto-Capetown flights. That's the majority of my costs, anyway."
"But if you miss the first portion of your flights-"
"No, it's a seperate ticket!"
Toronto to Capetown was it's own booking. Missing the flights to Sao Paulo and Santiago would have no impact, other than about 1600.00 gone, provided I could get to Toronto by the 29th.
It worked out even better.
I was able to book a new ticket to Toronto, and would arrive the morning of the 28th. I could still have a bath, go to Red Lobster with my parents, and sleep like a two-days-of-transit exhausted baby before leaving for Capetown.
And for only 1300.00? Considering I had missed a premiere flight by five and a half hours, that was like a slap on the wrist. I packed neatly, prepared my documents and new information for the next day, reconfirmed my arrangements, and felt like I'd handled things well, all things considered, and that perhaps I'd learned something.
That was the lesson.
Little did I know how soon the Test would follow.
The next day, I arrived at the airport. Accompanying me were my Brazilian family and, by sheer providence, seeing as he had his own bookings to attend to, Corey.
It turns out, my booking did not exist.
My Brazilian family, who speak no English, heard the translation but were at a loss as to how to help. Again, while I grappled with a crippling case of this can't possibly be happening, Corey found a Tourist information desk, an internet connection, a phone card, and got calling. While I again took notes and paid attention, he spoke with the agency, and found out that my booking had been cancelled- due to some "third party error" in the system, and that they had supposedly sent me an email that morning which I hadn't received.
Over the course of a 40 minute phone card, he sorted, I answered booking questions, and my Brazilian parents guarded my luggage, and appeared occasionally to hug me and murmur comforting Portuguese assurances.
There were many small annoyances, such as:
The company was able to fix the booking, but it was too late to catch the flight, since I was at the airport only one hour ahead of time.
The phone card ran our immediately following Corey's saying "Yes, that will work, can we please book-" at the cheapest, most direct flight.
No airport desk save one had an internet connection which allowed them to use google, making it almost a full 35 minutes before we were able to connect with the agency at all, because I had all the booking and ticket info, but no phone number for them.
We ended up booking yet another ticket, this one leaving tomorrow at 1:55pm, getting me to Toronto at 9:46am... on the 29th. Enough to catch my flight to South Africa in the evening, and enough to see my parents for a few hours. No Sheraton, no Bath, no Break during four solid days of international flying. It was costing 400.00 more dollars than the first one. The slap on the wrist had a bit more sting.
When we returned to the house, Corey had arranged to reconfirm the booking, just to make sure all was well and that we could rest assured I was actually going to fly out tomorrow afternoon. The booking, regrettably, couldn't be made. My credit card had been declined.
Ok, easy if embarrassing fix. Corey made the booking, in my name, under his credit card and information. We're both with RBC- I could transfer the money directly to him afterward.
Further regrettably, it was explained that that was not possible. Since Corey was not flying as well, he could not make the booking for me, since it was not my credit card. It was to protect the cardholder.
"But, I AM the cardholder!" Was, to his credit, the most annoyed I had so far heard him be with a service agent. In the end, the real end, this time, he had to send not only every piece of information on his credit card, but, I think, re-confirm with corresponding ID.
So, things as they stand now:
I have a flight, for tomorrow at 1:55pm. I plan on being there at 11:30am. I fly to Sao Paulo, then to Washington, and arrive in Toronto Friday morning. I will see my parents, and I will have time to purchase a camera with my ever-hemorrhageing funds, and then I will get to Capetown by July first. I WILL get to Capetown. If I have to damn well swim, I will get to Africa this Summer.
So, how do I feel about my adult, zen, humble coping skills now?
Well, it's mixed.
Last night, I fell asleep feeling pretty good. Things had been sorted, I felt more confindent about being able to handle crises, and I felt like the worst had happened, and that I could handle it and ride it out, monetary losses and all. And, to be honest, there are FAR worse losses than monetary. People have pissed away more money that I lost at a bad casino night, and more truly awful things can happen to a person than being a few grand in the hole, especially when they live at home and have the safety net of two credit cards, a loan, and e-transfers if necessary.
Tonight? Right now... I feel drained, low, and like I've had the mental and emotional shit kicked out of me. I still keep reminding myself that, all told, things can be worse. I'm not hurt, nor is anyone I love. I'm not in danger. This didn't all happen when I was halfway through flights across the globe and I had to deal with it alone in a non-English country with no prior experience. Sometimes, life just happens to get out of control and the only thing I CAN control is how to respond. Which, to my former chagrin, sometimes requires the help of other people.
I want very badly to talk only about how I now feel like I can handle it if it happens again tomorrow, and that I now feel I know how to respond in unanticipated screw-ups... But I can't do that without acknowledging that, until the past 24 hours, I DIDN'T know how, and I'm STILL not entirely confident. I'm sure I could have cobbled something together, and been over-quick and over-nervous and possibly paid twice as much for equal convenience. But, I had help and support.
So, for the sake of new found humility:
Corey; You completely and utterly managed a crisis yesterday and today, and very patiently explained exactly how you were doing it and walked me through the process in case it happens again, when I will HAVE to deal with it solo. You did not make me feel foolish or incapable at all; you were encouraging and positive and made me truly believe that if, by either some Cosmic Lesson yet to learn or perhaps an as yet Unnamed Airport Trickster God, my flights are cocked up tomorrow when you are gone, I can handle it, and that I will get to where I need to go come hell or high water by myself. I owe you many things, including at least two grand and my firstborn child.
My Brazilian Parents; Their unending patience and gestured encouragement turned what was a ghastly mess into a minor inconvenience, and also saved me upwards of a hundred dollars of cab fare. All this, last minute, after I screwed up my own timing, was the height of the generosity they've shown me. I wish google translate was adequate enough to fully express the tone of this message, but I suppose my pointing and hugging and endless 'Obrigada's will have to do.
Every single one of my friends and family who had utmost faith that I would be confident, capable, and handle myself; Actually, I cocked it all up something fierce- but I hope that's ok, because despite the fact that I pretend otherwise, I'm human, and that shit happens, and I hope you'll be just as proud of me for falling off my horse and getting up as you would be if I'd cleared a full round on the first try. The silver lining is, I met some people who can show me how to saddle the damn thing a bit better, and I'm no longer unwilling to take advice and a leg-up.
I feel a bit better, now I've got that out. I feel I've gained significant amounts of perspective, patience, and appreciation. I also feel a wary respect that the universe won't hesitate to remind me if I forget about them. I am in the safe, warm home of a wonderful Brazilian family, with my laptop, my bags packed, and my flights booked and hopefully solid. Even if it all goes to hell again tomorrow, I'm somewhere where I have all my information, all the help I need, and hopefully the presence of mind to fix it myself if I should need to.
In fact, I'm quietly terrified that the Universe/Unnamed Airport Trickster God may test me on it by erasing my bookings tomorrow and watching to see what I'll do.
But, I'll deal with that when it comes, if it comes. And I'll be there early, and I'll be there prepared with a phone card and the number of the agency. I'll either fix it or I won't, but either way I'll make the effort.
I can always swim to Africa.
I returned from Rio on Monday, riding the high of exoticism and confidence, after three heavenly days of beaches, sunshine, and beautiful, tourist packed scenery. I knew this was my last week in Brazil, and that my flight on June 28th was fast approaching. On Tuesday, I attended my second last class, spoke briefly with the co-ordinator about how my flight left a few days earlier, and afterward and had mall sushi for dinner before heading home, with nought but peace of mind knowing I'd made the most of my time in Brazil.
It was approximately 7:40pm on June 26th that I pulled out my flight information in order to confirm my flight for the 28th...
And realized that my flight had left at 1:55pm earlier in the afternoon. My flight from Florianopolis had left at 1:55pm the 26th. My flight from Sao Paolo was leaving at 6:30pm the 26th, and my flight from Santiago to Toronto was leaving on the 27th. I was supposed to be IN Toronto on the 28th, in order to see my parents for a night, have a solid sleep and a bath at the Sheraton, and catch my flight to Capetown at 6:50pm, June 29th.
I described it in an email to my parents as a combination of thoughtlessness, carelessness, and possibly cosmic hubris.
I'd been discussing for some weeks now how one of the core values I would like to strengthen in myself is humility, but also how I had a great deal of fear, because humility is gained only when something happens hard and fast enough for life to really get to rub your nose in it, and I was afraid how that might occur.
Another aspect of myself I've been trying hard to adjust is my constant attachment to expectation. Things go my way, or they simply don't go. I make up my mind to not enjoy something.
So, as I stared in bewildered, creeping shock at my flight dates, I'm sure a number of thoughts ran through my head, but I actually don't remember any of them. I took my papers, found Corey in the other room, and said,
"I have a problem." I indicated my dates.
"Today?" His eyes widened.
Another inner failing is that I have always had a problem with accepting help from others and, worse still, acknowledging that others have more experience or knowledge of anything.
However, with the dawning realization of the world of utter ballsed-up I had just entered, and the settling feeling of So THIS is something I'm going to learn this summer..., I was highly aware that I was fortunate enough to be with not only a seasoned world traveler, but someone who had many times planned, fixed, and expedited his own and others travel details. I let the comforting buffer of emotional shock catch up with me and, with an utterly gobsmacked shrug, handed him my crisis book of phone numbers and bookings, and told him:
"I don't know how to fix this."
I don't know how has literally been my shoot-in-the-foot quality that I have grappled with for years. I have always loathed showing anything but instant adeptness at anything I turn my hand to. It perhaps seems at odds, because I know my own intelligence, and my own speed of learning. What is harder to see is the fact that when are you are intelligent and learn quickly, laziness is an easy vice. You don't have to study, you don't have to overly prepare, you can slapdash together what you need and get an A+. When I came across things I was less good at, I didn't work at it. I ignored it, and saw it as a faintly interesting pursuit that other people had. Admitting that not only are there things I don't know and am not prepared for was bad enough, but being forced to admit that there are things I don't know and NEED to know but don't is worse. Especially when there is no other blame but that which lies with me.
Within 15 minutes, Corey was on the phone with TAM airlines, LAN airlines, and Air Canada, explaining to me, in between holds, that he was checking if there were any flights to allow me to catch up in either Sao Paulo, Santiago, or in fact anything that could bring me to Toronto on time.
I followed with a note book and pen, nodding and absorbing and getting into a very zen state about it all.
One thing I always thank crisis mode for is that it's so much easier to stay calm, because it's already happened. The flight was missed. The shit had happened, and all I had to do was keep my head and focus on dealing with it. So, I took deep breaths, drank many glasses of water, and paid attention.
After over an hour and a half of alternate hold periods (at some point, when I asked what I could do, I was told to go pack, just in case) it had been determined that no flight would get me a catch-up to my previously booked tickets, and so the best course of action all airlines could recommend was to book a new ticket from Florianopolis to Capetown.
I was continually more and more aware of how EVERYTHING I had been most afraid of this Summer had happened:
1) Made a stupid cock-up, for no other reason than irresponsibility
2) Proved myself a failure who couldn't take care of herself
3) Lost value amounting to thousands of dollars
4) Failed at striding about the world independently
And there was no way to hide my shame from anyone.
...And it really wasn't so awful.
I realized I wouldn't see my parents, or have my bath at the Sheraton, or even use 4000.00 worth of plane tickets I had already paid for. But, you know what?
My legs could both have been broken.
I could have been born in Saudi Arabia.
I could be a thalydomide kid with something in my eye. (Tim Minchin)
Really, if I had needed a crash course in anything, life could have been rougher with me. It was a mistake, and an expensive one, but that's all it was. An expensive mistake. And for all the sheer stupidity of it and loss of worth, I had still had an unreal summer, where I had done amazing things, and border hopped, and learned more than I ever thought I could in less than two months. So what- I'll go straight to Capetown, fix things as best I can, and hopefully the experience will teach me not to let it happen again, and if it does, I'll have learned what to do.
It was, cosmically eerie enough, very shortly after this realization that I clued into another possibility as Corey browsed his bookmarked travel sites for the cheapest flight to South Africa.
"Wait- If I need to pay 1500 to get to Capetown from here anyway, I might as well just pay that to get a new ticket to Toronto entirely, and still use the Toronto-Capetown flights. That's the majority of my costs, anyway."
"But if you miss the first portion of your flights-"
"No, it's a seperate ticket!"
Toronto to Capetown was it's own booking. Missing the flights to Sao Paulo and Santiago would have no impact, other than about 1600.00 gone, provided I could get to Toronto by the 29th.
It worked out even better.
I was able to book a new ticket to Toronto, and would arrive the morning of the 28th. I could still have a bath, go to Red Lobster with my parents, and sleep like a two-days-of-transit exhausted baby before leaving for Capetown.
And for only 1300.00? Considering I had missed a premiere flight by five and a half hours, that was like a slap on the wrist. I packed neatly, prepared my documents and new information for the next day, reconfirmed my arrangements, and felt like I'd handled things well, all things considered, and that perhaps I'd learned something.
That was the lesson.
Little did I know how soon the Test would follow.
The next day, I arrived at the airport. Accompanying me were my Brazilian family and, by sheer providence, seeing as he had his own bookings to attend to, Corey.
It turns out, my booking did not exist.
My Brazilian family, who speak no English, heard the translation but were at a loss as to how to help. Again, while I grappled with a crippling case of this can't possibly be happening, Corey found a Tourist information desk, an internet connection, a phone card, and got calling. While I again took notes and paid attention, he spoke with the agency, and found out that my booking had been cancelled- due to some "third party error" in the system, and that they had supposedly sent me an email that morning which I hadn't received.
Over the course of a 40 minute phone card, he sorted, I answered booking questions, and my Brazilian parents guarded my luggage, and appeared occasionally to hug me and murmur comforting Portuguese assurances.
There were many small annoyances, such as:
The company was able to fix the booking, but it was too late to catch the flight, since I was at the airport only one hour ahead of time.
The phone card ran our immediately following Corey's saying "Yes, that will work, can we please book-" at the cheapest, most direct flight.
No airport desk save one had an internet connection which allowed them to use google, making it almost a full 35 minutes before we were able to connect with the agency at all, because I had all the booking and ticket info, but no phone number for them.
We ended up booking yet another ticket, this one leaving tomorrow at 1:55pm, getting me to Toronto at 9:46am... on the 29th. Enough to catch my flight to South Africa in the evening, and enough to see my parents for a few hours. No Sheraton, no Bath, no Break during four solid days of international flying. It was costing 400.00 more dollars than the first one. The slap on the wrist had a bit more sting.
When we returned to the house, Corey had arranged to reconfirm the booking, just to make sure all was well and that we could rest assured I was actually going to fly out tomorrow afternoon. The booking, regrettably, couldn't be made. My credit card had been declined.
Ok, easy if embarrassing fix. Corey made the booking, in my name, under his credit card and information. We're both with RBC- I could transfer the money directly to him afterward.
Further regrettably, it was explained that that was not possible. Since Corey was not flying as well, he could not make the booking for me, since it was not my credit card. It was to protect the cardholder.
"But, I AM the cardholder!" Was, to his credit, the most annoyed I had so far heard him be with a service agent. In the end, the real end, this time, he had to send not only every piece of information on his credit card, but, I think, re-confirm with corresponding ID.
So, things as they stand now:
I have a flight, for tomorrow at 1:55pm. I plan on being there at 11:30am. I fly to Sao Paulo, then to Washington, and arrive in Toronto Friday morning. I will see my parents, and I will have time to purchase a camera with my ever-hemorrhageing funds, and then I will get to Capetown by July first. I WILL get to Capetown. If I have to damn well swim, I will get to Africa this Summer.
So, how do I feel about my adult, zen, humble coping skills now?
Well, it's mixed.
Last night, I fell asleep feeling pretty good. Things had been sorted, I felt more confindent about being able to handle crises, and I felt like the worst had happened, and that I could handle it and ride it out, monetary losses and all. And, to be honest, there are FAR worse losses than monetary. People have pissed away more money that I lost at a bad casino night, and more truly awful things can happen to a person than being a few grand in the hole, especially when they live at home and have the safety net of two credit cards, a loan, and e-transfers if necessary.
Tonight? Right now... I feel drained, low, and like I've had the mental and emotional shit kicked out of me. I still keep reminding myself that, all told, things can be worse. I'm not hurt, nor is anyone I love. I'm not in danger. This didn't all happen when I was halfway through flights across the globe and I had to deal with it alone in a non-English country with no prior experience. Sometimes, life just happens to get out of control and the only thing I CAN control is how to respond. Which, to my former chagrin, sometimes requires the help of other people.
I want very badly to talk only about how I now feel like I can handle it if it happens again tomorrow, and that I now feel I know how to respond in unanticipated screw-ups... But I can't do that without acknowledging that, until the past 24 hours, I DIDN'T know how, and I'm STILL not entirely confident. I'm sure I could have cobbled something together, and been over-quick and over-nervous and possibly paid twice as much for equal convenience. But, I had help and support.
So, for the sake of new found humility:
Corey; You completely and utterly managed a crisis yesterday and today, and very patiently explained exactly how you were doing it and walked me through the process in case it happens again, when I will HAVE to deal with it solo. You did not make me feel foolish or incapable at all; you were encouraging and positive and made me truly believe that if, by either some Cosmic Lesson yet to learn or perhaps an as yet Unnamed Airport Trickster God, my flights are cocked up tomorrow when you are gone, I can handle it, and that I will get to where I need to go come hell or high water by myself. I owe you many things, including at least two grand and my firstborn child.
My Brazilian Parents; Their unending patience and gestured encouragement turned what was a ghastly mess into a minor inconvenience, and also saved me upwards of a hundred dollars of cab fare. All this, last minute, after I screwed up my own timing, was the height of the generosity they've shown me. I wish google translate was adequate enough to fully express the tone of this message, but I suppose my pointing and hugging and endless 'Obrigada's will have to do.
Every single one of my friends and family who had utmost faith that I would be confident, capable, and handle myself; Actually, I cocked it all up something fierce- but I hope that's ok, because despite the fact that I pretend otherwise, I'm human, and that shit happens, and I hope you'll be just as proud of me for falling off my horse and getting up as you would be if I'd cleared a full round on the first try. The silver lining is, I met some people who can show me how to saddle the damn thing a bit better, and I'm no longer unwilling to take advice and a leg-up.
I feel a bit better, now I've got that out. I feel I've gained significant amounts of perspective, patience, and appreciation. I also feel a wary respect that the universe won't hesitate to remind me if I forget about them. I am in the safe, warm home of a wonderful Brazilian family, with my laptop, my bags packed, and my flights booked and hopefully solid. Even if it all goes to hell again tomorrow, I'm somewhere where I have all my information, all the help I need, and hopefully the presence of mind to fix it myself if I should need to.
In fact, I'm quietly terrified that the Universe/Unnamed Airport Trickster God may test me on it by erasing my bookings tomorrow and watching to see what I'll do.
But, I'll deal with that when it comes, if it comes. And I'll be there early, and I'll be there prepared with a phone card and the number of the agency. I'll either fix it or I won't, but either way I'll make the effort.
I can always swim to Africa.
Monday, 18 June 2012
Plateau
I feel I've reached a defining moment in my life. I've been sensing one coming for a while, but I admit to being blindsided as to what it was. I had already known from previous periods of growth that every gain contains an equivalent sacrifice.
I hadn't considered just how steep the price of my journey might be.
Things are very much falling into place right now. Not in any concrete way, which was more of what I had vaguely projected, but on a very fundamental level that I have revisited and tilled so often I was surprised to see it could change the way it has
.
It's been a summer of many things, so far. I began by thinking I would gain things, but it turns out I've had to lose other things first. There are so many aspects of myself that I took as necessary and positive that have almost entirely waned on my horizon. The things I have started to gain are in an area wholly unexpected, and I dug my heels in against them at first.
I am having an unbelievable time.
I am excited for Africa.
The fear is still there, but so, so much less. I have two weeks, and I want it to start. I have things that need to be taken care of in the fall, and I have a feeling it is in the fall that the most dynamic phase of my life will be beginning. I hadn't realized how long I've felt afraid and stagnant and lost in a haze of vague possibilities and half thought-out plans.
Does that mean I have plans now?
Nope! I have absolutely no idea what my life is going to be. All I know for certain now is that it's going to be very interesting, and I'm going to love it very much.
I'm not afraid of not knowing now. I don't need to know now.
I'm going to know soon. I know in my bones that my life is going up from here. Maybe not professionally, maybe not linearly. But things have shifted in such a fashion that I've never known what a solid foundation I was meant to rest on, and build with.
I mentioned earlier that my birthday involved a bit of an emotional break down. It did, because I feel that this time last year marked the first shift in my year of of slow alterations that led to where I am now. I spent much of the day thinking of how I felt last year. What my goals were, what my life was, what my relationships and aspirations were. This year, I realized they were so far removed and so inaccessible that I felt I had to mourn what I was, so that I could begin to be something else.
I took this trip to throw myself completely out my comfort zone, to gain perspective, to become stronger. I was out of my comfort zone alright, but I lost all the previous perspective I've ever received, and my perception of myself was stripped to the core. I had a very long, very intimate, and very drunk conversation with a new friend, and she told me she loved people who travel because you are so forced to become yourself. You are in surroundings that are unfamiliar, with cultural and speech bearings you don't recognize, and you can't rely on cues from other people or other experiences. It's always on the hop. You can't explain yourself clearly, you need to simplify every communication, every need, and every want. You become a no-frills version of yourself, and sometimes you are surprised at what you are without your trappings.
I broke myself into a thousand pieces about a week after I left, and I've very recently started piecing myself together. As someone I greatly respect remarked in wonderfully expressed extended metaphor about Lego's, "You still have all the same pieces. You've even found some new ones. You've broken it all up and started building again."
I think I found some of those hard-to-find corner pieces. Maybe some bridges, too.
I feel a bit silly at the seriousness of this tone, but I really am giddy about where I'm going from here. I came out the other side of a plateau expecting a new landscape to navigate, but I found it was empty space. I get to make the landscape myself. I have plans for myself, not concrete goals, but intangible personal changes that will be made. I don't know what I'll be when I'm done, but I know I'll be somewhere good.
I have an awful lot of faith in the universe right now. Actually, maybe it's faith in myself. I don't even think it matters which way I look at it, so long as I'm doing something with it.
Oh, I'm going to Rio De Janeiro on Friday. The Botanical Gardens, Copacabana, and Christ the Redeemer are on my list.
I hadn't considered just how steep the price of my journey might be.
Things are very much falling into place right now. Not in any concrete way, which was more of what I had vaguely projected, but on a very fundamental level that I have revisited and tilled so often I was surprised to see it could change the way it has
.
It's been a summer of many things, so far. I began by thinking I would gain things, but it turns out I've had to lose other things first. There are so many aspects of myself that I took as necessary and positive that have almost entirely waned on my horizon. The things I have started to gain are in an area wholly unexpected, and I dug my heels in against them at first.
I am having an unbelievable time.
I am excited for Africa.
The fear is still there, but so, so much less. I have two weeks, and I want it to start. I have things that need to be taken care of in the fall, and I have a feeling it is in the fall that the most dynamic phase of my life will be beginning. I hadn't realized how long I've felt afraid and stagnant and lost in a haze of vague possibilities and half thought-out plans.
Does that mean I have plans now?
Nope! I have absolutely no idea what my life is going to be. All I know for certain now is that it's going to be very interesting, and I'm going to love it very much.
I'm not afraid of not knowing now. I don't need to know now.
I'm going to know soon. I know in my bones that my life is going up from here. Maybe not professionally, maybe not linearly. But things have shifted in such a fashion that I've never known what a solid foundation I was meant to rest on, and build with.
I mentioned earlier that my birthday involved a bit of an emotional break down. It did, because I feel that this time last year marked the first shift in my year of of slow alterations that led to where I am now. I spent much of the day thinking of how I felt last year. What my goals were, what my life was, what my relationships and aspirations were. This year, I realized they were so far removed and so inaccessible that I felt I had to mourn what I was, so that I could begin to be something else.
I took this trip to throw myself completely out my comfort zone, to gain perspective, to become stronger. I was out of my comfort zone alright, but I lost all the previous perspective I've ever received, and my perception of myself was stripped to the core. I had a very long, very intimate, and very drunk conversation with a new friend, and she told me she loved people who travel because you are so forced to become yourself. You are in surroundings that are unfamiliar, with cultural and speech bearings you don't recognize, and you can't rely on cues from other people or other experiences. It's always on the hop. You can't explain yourself clearly, you need to simplify every communication, every need, and every want. You become a no-frills version of yourself, and sometimes you are surprised at what you are without your trappings.
I broke myself into a thousand pieces about a week after I left, and I've very recently started piecing myself together. As someone I greatly respect remarked in wonderfully expressed extended metaphor about Lego's, "You still have all the same pieces. You've even found some new ones. You've broken it all up and started building again."
I think I found some of those hard-to-find corner pieces. Maybe some bridges, too.
I feel a bit silly at the seriousness of this tone, but I really am giddy about where I'm going from here. I came out the other side of a plateau expecting a new landscape to navigate, but I found it was empty space. I get to make the landscape myself. I have plans for myself, not concrete goals, but intangible personal changes that will be made. I don't know what I'll be when I'm done, but I know I'll be somewhere good.
I have an awful lot of faith in the universe right now. Actually, maybe it's faith in myself. I don't even think it matters which way I look at it, so long as I'm doing something with it.
Oh, I'm going to Rio De Janeiro on Friday. The Botanical Gardens, Copacabana, and Christ the Redeemer are on my list.
Wednesday, 13 June 2012
Fatigued in Brazil
So, Brazil!
For the second time, I took off from the main group. On another whim (and recommendation from his Brazilian 'Father' Carlos) Corey and I headed to Foz de Iguacu in Brazil, one of the seven wonders of the natural world. On our first long weekend, we cabbed to the airport and had yet another day of plane hopping as we made our way to the mid-sized city that lies on the borders of Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay.
We arrived in the hostel to find an incredibly friendly Portuguese man who spoke absolutely no English, and little Spanish. Very obligingly, he checked us in and phoned his English speaking friend to answer our questions and translate our desperate need to be fed after 9 hours of transit after waking at 6:00 am (Microwave lasagna and 5 dollar wine has never tasted so good). Also, I had my very first experience of being seen as an actual adventurer! Two backpackers bounced into the hostel looking all independent and capable while I was hanging around the fireplace waiting for supper. I was envious.
They introduced themselves, and explained that they were student from London (UK), on a gap year, headed to university in the fall. They had been traversing most of South America, and had arrived from a 40 bus ride from Argentina to see the Falls. They asked where we were going, and I had the pleasant thrill of being able to talk about Chile and Brazil and Argentina with them, surprised at my ease at comparing experiences and transportation, and also explain about South Africa and Capetown, where one of them was hopefully headed for a year of university during her degree. Despite being students and with a group, it was an interesting shared experience that reminded me that I am doing something incredibly damn cool! While of the two of us, Corey is (thus far-!) the more well travelled, and was able to talk also about New Zealand and Australia and significantly more international airports, I definitely got a working-myself-up vibe. Really, I have come to the awareness that I can't see myself NOT traveling like this. In fact, I'm now looking forward to not being with a group entirely. While Africa still intimidates the hell out of me, I'm getting edgy to be getting there. I'm looking forward to being by myself, and navigating entirely free of guidance. Next year, I'll be in either Bali or Vietnam (Provided Giannina and we T&T'ers get our way) and I want it to seem easy. This past spring, I have been all anticipation mixed with mind-wrinkling fear. I am looking forward to what just anticipation feels like.
Ok, pardon that tangent. The other backpackers were checking out the next day; we had just arrived, still with three days to go. Day 1 was the Falls De Iguacu, and the dense Brazilian jungle of a national park that surrounds them.
The day began poorly, to be honest. Breakfast at the hostel was 8-10 in the morning, and neither of us awoke before 10:30 after our tiring airport day previous. So, once awake and together, we headed to the tiny outdoor bar and food area to see if we could buy sandwich's or something to take with us. The woman cleaning up the back kitchen area was neither english nor spanish speaking, and it was a good thing the reception worker noticed us there. He informed us that there were no lunches, unfortunately, but then began to set out the breakfast food again, and brought coffee and hot chocolate! I felt like I was an annoying american tourist, causing problems and making more work for people. The expression on the face of the cleaning woman made it clear she agreed. After hastily eating, we took 15 minutes to clean up the kitchen and put all the food away (I love hostels- they don't care if you mess around in the kitchen.) We left a 10 real bill and a napkin upon which I had written "OBRIGADO!! - The Gringos" with a heart and smiley face and left it next to the sink. Hopefully, this may repair the damage done to international relations.
We then headed to the falls!
It was unreal. Niagara Falls times 10 at least. There were tiny snuffling mammals that reminded me of anteaters, and they were everywhere, in the garbages, on the walking trails, on the cliffside walk to the falls. We paid for a hiking/boat tour that took us right up to the base of some of the falls, and dragged us back and forth in the spray for awhile. We had a heaven sent day for it; constant sun and warm enough to sit in the open top of the buses that circle the park. We were there for over 6 hours, and by the time we returned to the hostel (for more lasagna, and beer) we were exhausted, footsore, and still damp from the water. We attempted to speak to the worker about making plans to see Itaipu Dam (Another wonder of the world! The man-made one, though!). He phoned his english speaking friend (A fellow tourism student) who then offered to take us to both Itaipu Dam and the Three-Countries landmark area, driving and tour arrangements included, for approximately 35.00 canadian each. So, from 9-2 we went to the Dam (Which included a jaunt into Paraguay! Country number 5, dudes!) and the Tri-Country marker for the borders of the three countries (Nipped into Argentina again! I will NEVER tire of saying that!). After a brief return to the hostel, we walked across the road to the bird park, and as a result I am not only determined to buy another budgie this fall, I now have a picture of a Parrot the size of my forearm shuffing across my shoulders and whispering in my ear. Same parrot also shuffled across Corey's neck, and ate the button of off his brand new Foz de Iguacu hat. Which was possibly the most hilarious thing I have ever witnessed. Pictures to follow.
After our last day, the same tourist student came back in the evening and drove us downtown to the bus terminal, where we settled in to enjoy our 16.5 hour bus ride back to Florianopolis. Headphones and Doritos were a must, and there was also a fun stop at a sketch-tastic road-cafe in the middle of nowhere, Brazil, where the bathrooms had no doors and the atmosphere had no hope. We made it out alive, all things considered, and I made use of Corey's phone and the wi-fi to wish dear Sarah Schoales a Happy Birthday while I still had my thumbs.
The day after I returned was my Birthday, which, all things considered, was actually a pretty emotional day. I didn't so much feel homesick, as I became acutely aware of the differences between my last birthday and this one, in terms of my life status, goals, and surroundings. I had an edgy, tense morning which turned into a full-blown weep-fest by mid-afternoon. It didn't last long, thankfully. It was more of an emotional boil-lancing than anything really serious, so by the time I was out for Sushi and Sake and making plans for group outings later in the week my day was brilliant, and filled with alcohol and salmon sashimi that melted like butter. Birthday Gold.
Today, I woke up after not sleeping remotely long enough, and had a truly fantastic outing to a nearby beach/lagoon fishing town where a Capoeira teacher walked us through the instruments and culture of Capoeira and Brazil. He then walked us through the town, the beach, and we stopped at a restaurant for rice, beans, salad, chicken and too many caphairinas before noon. Then, we went to a sea turtle research outpost for Project Tamar, and saw several species of on-premises Sea Turtles, as well as learning about the rescue-and-protect mission.
Ok. That's.... About it, really. I've been getting the hang of the busses here, except for a peevish incident today, which involved needing to cab home from a nearby pharmacy because my stop eluded me and I needed to get off the bus in Sao Jose before it turned around back to the city center of Florianopolis. Tomorrow we have another outing, I believe, and after that I plan to sleep in on friday, and maybe get caught up on on Postcards and journalling, and if you're lucky another post.
Pardon my poor wrap up, but my brazilian mother keeps refilling my wine glass, and I am le tired.
Boa Noite, all.
Tuesday, 5 June 2012
Brasil!
It was yet another day filled with airport hopping, and we were collecting our luggage at last, tired and griping, after arriving VERY late in Brazil, via Sao Paolo to Florianopolis. We got our stuff, headed through the gates-
To cheers and applauding! And about 30 people waving signs that said everything from our names to "WELCOME CANADIAN STUDENTS!"
Within 30 seconds there were smiling families swooping around us, dropping kisses on our cheeks, and asking us in rapid Portuguese and English what our names were in order to sort us out and get us home. Amanda and I were assigned to the same family, Nesi. The daughter, Natani, has been learning English for only one year, and her parents speak none at all. Challenge accepted. We had a roughly 30 minute drive from the airport to their home, which was behind a locked gate on a walled street.
...
I'm sorry, I've tried for the last twenty five minutes to draw an appealingly worded descriptive paragraph about our arrival, but I'm failing. Long story short: We are in a three story house, in a loft double bedroom with ensuite bathroom. The house itself has a stone staircase, a koi pond, and a courtyard outside the kitchen (which is where the barbeque lives).
Did I mention the koi pond? Complete with about 15 fish of varying colour and size, and a turtle. And a stone front faux waterfall that keeps aforementioned koi pond properly ventilated. Koi pond is also in the living room/foyer, to draw the eye of guests.
There is also a cat and two dogs, one of whom belongs in Paris Hilton's purse and is called, or at least sounds as if she is called, Moggie. Moggie is currently on my chest as I attempt to type, turning around in awkward circles in her fleecy pink sweater dress. Her head is approximately the length of my index finger.
Brazil is going to be considerably more hardcore than Chile. Chile is now considered a cakewalk. Santiago has an insanely simple mass transportation system, and we were only a 10 minute subway ride from school- which was only 3 hours a day, four days a week.
Florianopolis is a crowded, but sprawling city, and no subway, and an inefficient, cranky sort of bus system. Our school is anywhere from 4-7 hours a day, including lunches, trips, and practical application lessons (Such as visiting supermarkets). It sometimes starts as early as 8, and sometimes as late as 2. Our schedule is varied, interesting, and PACKED. I have been humming with adrenaline for the past 48 hours, and my head is reeling with Portuguese, which, as I have heard described, DOES sound exactly like a German trying to speak Spanish with a French accent.
Th daughter of the house was enthusiastically telling us about how Brazil is a wonderful country for parties, and that tomorrow night we are going out to a club with her. I have a feeling I will be spending the remainder of the month exhausted and over-stimulated, yet again.
That being said- That's exactly what I came for. For the first time since I can recall, I feel up to my eyeballs in constant awareness, intake, and processing. The absolute opposite of stagnancy. I've just returned from a brief writing break where I ate pizza and drank wine with Natani, Mother, and Amanda, and had a heavily gestured, occasionally Spanish, constantly translated, but perfectly functional conversation around a dinner table (which I've missed).
I'm also constantly amused and a little touched by our professor and co-ordinators referring to our host families as our Brazilian parents. ("Hjoo eez jor Mommy in Brajil? Dats how joo say, yeh? Mommy?" "Jor Daddy will pick joo up at sicks terty.") Also, hearing ANYONE say "beaches" with a Portuguese accent is hysterical. ("Joo like bitches, yeh?" "Byotiful bitches! Byotiful!")
Ok, that is all for now. I will write more when I am less overtired, overwhelmed, and overemotional from a beautiful, hilarious, and weep-fest inducing e-mail from my wonderful, loving, and talented sister Hayley. I will only tell you that it was a hand drawn series of images which involved the phrase "Shakespearean Anatidae". *love*
Monday, 4 June 2012
Shannon Shuttling Shortly from the Sheraton
En route to Brazil! Last few days consisted mainly of sleeping and packing, and now I'm headed for Florianapolis this afternoon at 2:00pm. Once I am fully settled in my next home (give me a day, ish) I will do yet another catch up for them as thinks I am neglecting ye old blog! (Incidentally, 8 entries in a month is an average of twice a week, which is not bad.)
Oh, incidentally, the bookings for our group did not fully extend for as long as half of us needed to stay. Thusly, I have just woken up in a Sheraton in Chile, had breakfast in bed, and will be shuttling shortly. Hm. Shannon Shuttles Shortly from the Sheraton. I'll work on a tongue twister later, and get back to you.
Ok, Off!
Oh, incidentally, the bookings for our group did not fully extend for as long as half of us needed to stay. Thusly, I have just woken up in a Sheraton in Chile, had breakfast in bed, and will be shuttling shortly. Hm. Shannon Shuttles Shortly from the Sheraton. I'll work on a tongue twister later, and get back to you.
Ok, Off!
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