Back in 2005 I planned a vacation during a weeklong February
break to Italy for our family and my parents. We were going to spend the first four nights in Florence and
the second four nights in Venice. Our
boys were in 7th and 10th grade. We flew from JFK to Frankfurt where we
were supposed to catch our connecting flight to Florence. The problem was that in February, there
is a chance of…well, you know… snow.
Our plane was supposed to be coming from Munich to connect us to
Florence, but due to the snow in Munich, that plane was not going
anywhere.
So the six of us were in Germany trying to make heads or
tails out of the chaos that was ensuing. Thank goodness our older son was studying German and
could read the flight status boards telling us that our flight was canceled in
the first place. We tried to find
which line to stand on to proceed on our way to Italy, but there were so many
people that the lines looked like bunches. We were so confused which way to turn.
We found a place for my parents to sit while we tried to
sort this all out. After a very
long wait and much pleading, the best they could find for our party of six us
were three seats on a plane leaving in five hours and another three seats on a
plane leaving in nine hours. We
had no choice but to take them.
It was quickly decided that I would go first with my parents
to get them settled in, and my husband would take the later flight with the
boys. After attempts at horizontal
rest on hard airport benches, eventually it was time to board that first plane. We landed in Florence without incident,
then took a taxi to our hotel, which the Internet promised was a stone’s throw
from the Duomo. Imagine our
surprise when we wheeled our suitcases down a dark alley road to a hotel that
had a sign on it saying, in Italian of course, that the water pipe broke and to
please buzz the intercom for instructions. We were told to proceed to another hotel about a block
away. At first I thought that the
Internet had scammed us and it was too good to be true to be that close to the
Duomo. We continued our wheeling
and entered the ‘new’ hotel, which happily also had a view of the Duomo.
Originally we had booked two rooms: a double for my parents and a quad for
our family. This ‘new’ hotel only
had double rooms and I was told I would have to pay extra for the third
room. With much emotion and
conviction in my voice, and again feeling I was being taken advantage of, I
refused to pay extra stating all the obvious reasons you can figure out on your
own. Finally the clerk agreed not
to charge us for the third room.
This was all done in my broken Italian, before learning the language
properly. Perhaps looking back,
this was one of many reasons why I decided to learn the language better; if I
planned to travel to Italy, I needed to know how to communicate better.
While settling my parents in their room, we unanimously
agreed to change our plans for the morning. We decided that we would not get up early to begin our
exploring, but rather all sleep in due to the extremely long travel day
combined with the six-hour time difference. I kissed them goodnight and waited anxiously for my family
to arrive. We did not have our
cell phones with us in Europe for the trip back then, so the communication was
not up-to-the-minute.
When my husband and boys arrived at our original hotel, they
rang the buzzer and the new hotel clerk called my room around midnight to let
me know my family had arrived. I
slipped my clogs and light blue ski jacket on over my pajamas, and walked the
block, stepping carefully over the cobblestones in the dark, feeling the cool
midnight air on my cheeks. We
shared a joyful but tired reunion, and then I took them back to our rooms. The boys were excited to have their own
room for the first time ever, and were equally glad to hear of our plan to
sleep in the next morning.
I quickly heard a summary of their Frankfurt adventure, venturing
out into the city for dinner. There was no point of remaining in the crowded
hectic airport for 9 hours. They
were all happy and ready for slumber.
With the six of us reunited in one country, I could now close my eyes
and rest. It was a long day
indeed, but we were now in Italy ready to begin our adventure in the morning.
The first hour is always the easiest to pass. |
Having not slept on the red-eye flight, I was exhausted! |
Beginning their 'adventure' in Frankfurt |
Finally in Italy, enjoying his 'own' room. |
I know your pain though not for that lenght of time. My husband and I on one occasion did have to take seperate flights, after a trip to Minnesota. At least it was to San Diego. To make a long story short, our flights did not make it in at the original time. I went looking for him, had airport page him. No response, so I took the shuttle home. Discovered he had the shuttle people looking for me and was already home! In San Diego County there are numerous shuttle services to the San Diego airport due to the horrendous parking at the airport.
ReplyDeleteMust of been nerve wracking to have to walk to your old hotel to get your family at that time of night.
My niece, 2 young (2 yr old and 4 month old), children and mother-in-law, recently had a 12 hr flight from Germany, (were my niece and family have been living for 2 years),turn into a 24 hr flight. My niece was exhausted after that one.
Glad you all made it safely. I bet your sons were thrilled to have a room to themselves.