Oh my what a week. Since I last posted, our next leg of the journey was from Rome, Italy to Barcelona, Spain via Vueling Airlines on Monday night. All went well and the flight was quite comfortable in its MTV-European new-age sort of design. That was until we got to Rome, where we waited in anticipation for my bag. Joe's arrived but mine did not. I was not worried at this point, things like this happen. We simply went to the baggage counter, but this is when the nightmare I was to experience was to become clearer.
They apparently never left the mess that is the Roman Airport. Nonetheless, I was assured I would receive it the next morning. It comes and goes, so I call (which is apparently quite difficult here in it's self, all customer service here is 900# style) and am told "no problem, this afternoon now". Well, this goes on over and over for two days with me occasionally checking in. Then I'm finally told it is simply no where to be found.
We didn't quite realize what we were up against until this point. We were preparing to leave, and my entire capacity to travel throughout Europe was in the bag with my EuroRail Pass. So, after some moaning and groaning and a few not-so-customer service interactions, I come to terms with needing an immediate plan B. After all, this foolish airline was not about to end our European trip.
So we decide to head to the airport. I talk with several airline representatives that couldn't care less, and we then simply begin moving on with our travels. But one final thought, while I am here I should file my (likely useless) "claim". I wrap around the airport, and about a half hour later I'm in the special luggage area. I ask to begin the claim, and the employee (expectantly) begins telling me why he can't help me. I begin to leave, all hope long lost, and I get a "but hold on, I think the bag is here" seemingly in English, Catalan and Spanish all-in-one (I became quite used to it). It comes out ten minutes later. I was so astonished, my thoughts took a bit to rebuild things in my mind. I used the long walk back to meet up with Joe to reflect.
After all that we simply move on. I didn't really intend to write so much of the baggage trouble, but it became quite influential on our travels so it felt relevant (certainly soothing to write it out). Despite all that, we didn't allow it to ruin our time in Europe's most beautiful city of Barcelona.
For those that don't already know, Barcelona is actually in a unique, politically autonomous region of Spain called Catalonia. It is a large tourist city on the east coast, but so much more. They speak many, many languages there but most speak Catalan primarily (it sounds like a French-Spanish hybrid, at times even Italian). Our hostel overlooked the Mediterranean the second night, and was in the Gothic Quarter the night before. Due to baggage trouble, the last night we were homeless Euro-backpackers. From Pablo Picasso's museum, to the work of Spanish Architect Antoni Gaudi, there was so much to see. The city is majestically clean, and for its size has an amazing mass transit system (like Madrid). I can't wait to return. To me, Barcelona feels like the Vancouver (British Columbia) of Europe.
One more thing- I suppose I should add my experience on one subway trip. Stressed about the luggage already and on our way to the airport, I likely had reduced my situational awareness, allowing for the almost perfect getaway for a would-be crook. Standing there, abnormally crowded on the train (almost artificially, which may have triggered my suspicion further) I felt something was wrong. I started checking all my pockets, and got to the one with my wallet- it was gone. I knew it happened on that train, but by whom? Once I observed its absence, my eyes almost announced to the people on the train what had just occurred. I told Joe, and knew I had little time to act. How do I respond? I can't ask the thief who took my wallet. I noticed a look on a nearby woman's face that seemed to tell me already, but I asked if she saw "that". After a nod yes, she pointed to who she thought did it. At this point, I am face-to-face with this man, who didn't speak English, and I demand he empty his pockets and bag. Nothing. The train is about to empty, so I have little time. A young guy, on his way out, looks at me and says "I think it was him" and points. I start the same process with him, until I see in beneath his feet. Exhilarated and scared, I now have my wallet back.
As stressful as these events were, they do not feel at all indicative of Barcelona or Spain. In fact, I couldn't have felt safer in Barcelona. It is a one of a kind city that I wish for all to see and admire, and plan to return. As I sit writing from our Madrid hostel, my only regret of Barcelona was not having a charger for my iPhone those days to take all the pictures I wished. Next time :)
We started touring Madrid earlier today, and it definitely has the bigger city feel to Barcelona but nice nonetheless. It was about 100 degrees today, so we made sure to cool off over some fine Spanish cerveza.
I went ahead and uploaded and updated the pictures I have. You can click on the Europe 2009 link to the right to view the entire photo album. Hasta luego!
They apparently never left the mess that is the Roman Airport. Nonetheless, I was assured I would receive it the next morning. It comes and goes, so I call (which is apparently quite difficult here in it's self, all customer service here is 900# style) and am told "no problem, this afternoon now". Well, this goes on over and over for two days with me occasionally checking in. Then I'm finally told it is simply no where to be found.
We didn't quite realize what we were up against until this point. We were preparing to leave, and my entire capacity to travel throughout Europe was in the bag with my EuroRail Pass. So, after some moaning and groaning and a few not-so-customer service interactions, I come to terms with needing an immediate plan B. After all, this foolish airline was not about to end our European trip.
So we decide to head to the airport. I talk with several airline representatives that couldn't care less, and we then simply begin moving on with our travels. But one final thought, while I am here I should file my (likely useless) "claim". I wrap around the airport, and about a half hour later I'm in the special luggage area. I ask to begin the claim, and the employee (expectantly) begins telling me why he can't help me. I begin to leave, all hope long lost, and I get a "but hold on, I think the bag is here" seemingly in English, Catalan and Spanish all-in-one (I became quite used to it). It comes out ten minutes later. I was so astonished, my thoughts took a bit to rebuild things in my mind. I used the long walk back to meet up with Joe to reflect.
After all that we simply move on. I didn't really intend to write so much of the baggage trouble, but it became quite influential on our travels so it felt relevant (certainly soothing to write it out). Despite all that, we didn't allow it to ruin our time in Europe's most beautiful city of Barcelona.
For those that don't already know, Barcelona is actually in a unique, politically autonomous region of Spain called Catalonia. It is a large tourist city on the east coast, but so much more. They speak many, many languages there but most speak Catalan primarily (it sounds like a French-Spanish hybrid, at times even Italian). Our hostel overlooked the Mediterranean the second night, and was in the Gothic Quarter the night before. Due to baggage trouble, the last night we were homeless Euro-backpackers. From Pablo Picasso's museum, to the work of Spanish Architect Antoni Gaudi, there was so much to see. The city is majestically clean, and for its size has an amazing mass transit system (like Madrid). I can't wait to return. To me, Barcelona feels like the Vancouver (British Columbia) of Europe.
One more thing- I suppose I should add my experience on one subway trip. Stressed about the luggage already and on our way to the airport, I likely had reduced my situational awareness, allowing for the almost perfect getaway for a would-be crook. Standing there, abnormally crowded on the train (almost artificially, which may have triggered my suspicion further) I felt something was wrong. I started checking all my pockets, and got to the one with my wallet- it was gone. I knew it happened on that train, but by whom? Once I observed its absence, my eyes almost announced to the people on the train what had just occurred. I told Joe, and knew I had little time to act. How do I respond? I can't ask the thief who took my wallet. I noticed a look on a nearby woman's face that seemed to tell me already, but I asked if she saw "that". After a nod yes, she pointed to who she thought did it. At this point, I am face-to-face with this man, who didn't speak English, and I demand he empty his pockets and bag. Nothing. The train is about to empty, so I have little time. A young guy, on his way out, looks at me and says "I think it was him" and points. I start the same process with him, until I see in beneath his feet. Exhilarated and scared, I now have my wallet back.
As stressful as these events were, they do not feel at all indicative of Barcelona or Spain. In fact, I couldn't have felt safer in Barcelona. It is a one of a kind city that I wish for all to see and admire, and plan to return. As I sit writing from our Madrid hostel, my only regret of Barcelona was not having a charger for my iPhone those days to take all the pictures I wished. Next time :)
We started touring Madrid earlier today, and it definitely has the bigger city feel to Barcelona but nice nonetheless. It was about 100 degrees today, so we made sure to cool off over some fine Spanish cerveza.
I went ahead and uploaded and updated the pictures I have. You can click on the Europe 2009 link to the right to view the entire photo album. Hasta luego!
