Let me tell you a story. It's not an exciting story, but I feel that it's sort of indicative of much of my life.
I've been in Budapest for a week today. Our train to Warsaw, a night train, was leaving tonight at 10pm. Come 8:30pm, I looked at the ticket. The following conversation ensued:
"Hey, Lena, this ticket says 20:00. The train left half an hour ago."
*blank stare*
Yes, we managed to miss our train after spending the entire day in the apartment, doing nothing but packing. Obviously, life wants me to run out of money and starve away to nothing. Fortunately, we went to the train station and were able to get tickets for tomorrow morning's train (at $10 more than we spent before, but you do what you gotta). That's one less day we have in Warsaw and possibly dropping a city later on, but it's also a valuable life lesson learned: always check the ticket haha.
Other than that minor mishap, the time in Budapest has been fun. It's not really my type of city (large, dirty, decaying, incomprehensible signs in a foreign language), but I can see why people choose to study abroad here. The nightlife is basically never-ending, and there are lots of opportunities to live in a degree of splendor for an affordable amount of money. The baths are really nice, and the buildings would be super impressive if there were any degree of upkeep. Unfortunately, it seems like both the Nazis and the Soviets destroyed much of the pride of the Hungarian people in their nationality. Years and years of brutal occupation will do that, but it's hard to find redeeming qualities in a city like this when the people seem perpetually downtrodden. Still, maybe in 10 years, a new generation completely untouched by an occupying power will change the mentality here.
We've taken a couple of day trips: one to Bratislava, Slovakia, and the other to Eger, a small town in the wine producing region of Hungary. It rained both days, of course. Bratislava was a very nice place, well-kept and tiny. Eger, also tiny, had a lot of cheap wine as a definite upside. It was also clean and cute, in a Baroque way. The Hungarian countryside isn't generally all that nice, dotted with Soviet-era apartment blocks and crumbling, make-shift train stations. I don't know, I guess I'm just more contented in places that let me lead my typical American, charmed life, without reminding me how horrible people can be to others. I also appreciate people with a resiliency of spirit that the Hungarians just don't seem to have. I'm used to the Irish way of dealing with problems: make a joke and move on. There isn't a lot of laughter on the streets here. If you go to the baths or some other place for leisure, sure, people enjoy it. But day to day life seems to be more about straight up survival than just being happy to be alive. It's much, much different than Scotland.
I'm probably being unfair, but Eastern Europe is definitely not somewhere that I see myself ending up. Slavic stoicism is not my style. I expect that this will be one of those trips that makes me grateful that I grew up where and how and when I did.
Also, I am learning patience. I have to, otherwise I would DESTROY someone.
Time for bed, as I now have to wake up early in the morning and actually catch a train. Word.
Showing posts with label failure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label failure. Show all posts
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Why haven't you left yet?
Until approximately yesterday afternoon, I was hoping to be on last night's 10pm Continental flight to London. I have an epic tale [as befits my epic nature] about why I have not yet left for the UK, as I'm sure that anyone who knew my original plans would like to know why they changed. And hey, I might as well document the good with the bad.
On one of my flights from LA to Philly after the Rose Bowl, I made the mistake of picking up a Spirit Magazine (Southwest's in-flight magazine). The Libra horoscope read: Stay home this month. Leaving will be stressful due to travel snafus. I paraphrased, but you get the point. Sure enough, my flight from Nashville to Philly, the final leg of my journey, was delayed. Well, damn, thought I. This does not bode well. I arrived home, an hour later than I was expecting, and with the knowledge that my passport had not yet been returned by the British Consulate-General in NYC. You see, in order to make my trip overseas easier, I decided to apply for a visa. With a visa, I will be able to pass through customs with ease (hopefully), among other benefits. Unfortunately, the visa process took longer than I thought/advertised. The Consulate-General's website reads:
I call that company, spend most of my call time on hold, and finally get to talk to a woman who says that she can send an email marked as "urgent" for me. Oh, good, because I have every confidence that they read their email regularly when elsewhere on the site it says that they take an average of 22 days to return emails. Uh huh. But what else could I do? I had her do that, said thank you, and freaked out. Things were looking more bleak. As my mom said, "What a cluster." I spent the night packing, not knowing if I would actually be leaving the next night or not.
After some deliberation, my dad agreed to drive to NYC first thing in the morning the next day. Note: I live about 2 hours away from NYC, depending on traffic. Sometimes it's less, but often more. We left at 8am and made good time until Hoboken. Which is how it always goes. Fortunately, my dad's GPS suggested an alternate route that saved us about 45 minutes of sorrow trying to get into the Lincoln Tunnel. Seriously. I was astounded.
As a quick aside, my dad hates driving in cities, NYC most of all. It's contrary to his driving style. So for him to do this for me, when we have no guarantee that this venture will be at all fruitful, is nothing short of the ultimate show of love. And I am incredibly grateful for my long-suffering father indeed. Most especially for what comes later.
We get to the city, find the Consulate, park. At this point, it's approximately 10:15, and we haven't eaten or done anything but drive since early that morning. Upon entering the building that houses the Consulate, we find a line of three or four other guys arguing with the security guard, an old Caribbean man. They are all apparently having the same problem that I am, and there is nobody in the entire building that we can talk to. Cue terrible feeling of doom. The guys in front of me had no luck, so of course I didn't either. We gave up after approximately 5 minutes, because what else could we do? Storm the Consulate? Nope. It was time to drive the 2 hours back home, after walking back to the car. My dad, because he is a phenomenal human being, said nothing, making this experience slightly easier for me. I did, however, cry for the next hour and a half, because I was more frustrated than I've ever been in my entire life. That, and I'm a woman. Whatever.
When I got home, I checked my email to find one that said that my visa application had been approved and had a UPS tracking number. When I tracked the package, it said that it had been billed on Jan. 2nd, but had no further info. I called UPS, they started an inquiry and found out that the package was just sitting at the Consulate, ready to ship that night. Um, WTF GUYS. So I think that my visa had actually been issued on Jan. 2nd, but they waited until last night to ship it. THANKS. AWESOME. The girl at UPS told me that it should arrive on Monday. Great, so I officially have to change my flight to London and then the connecting flight to Edinburgh. Which is what I spent yesterday afternoon doing.
Besides damages for emotional distress, I maintain that the British government owes me about $900 for last minute flight changes. Yeah, thanks, guys. Great working with you.
Barring any further unforeseen catastrophes, at which point I would probably have to take this semester off (because I am not, in fact, made of money), I leave from Newark at 6:55pm on Tuesday. At which point I will have missed orientation and my first three days of classes. But hey, whatever, I'll figure it out. At least I'll be there.
On the up-side, I get to be home for my dad's birthday tomorrow. I can tell him that I have nothing but gratitude for his existence, because that's the truth.
And that is the terrible story of why I am still home, bored.
Because it might come in handy, my exact flight info is as follows:
Outbound: Virgin Atlantic Flight 3118 (operated by Continental) departing Newark at 6:55pm Jan. 8th and arriving London Gatwick at 6:55am on Jan. 9th.
easyJet flight 703 departing London Gatwick at 10:30am and arriving Edinburgh at 12:00pm.
Inbound: Virgin Atlantic Flight VS0001 departing London Heathrow at 4:00pm Jun. 30th and arriving Newark 6:40pm Jun. 30th.
And now that I've told you all sorts of stuff, there are things that I want to know from you.
1) Who's planning on reading this?
2) Anything specific you want pictures/descriptions of?
That's really it. Just trying to cater to my audience and make this more exciting for anyone that chooses to read this. But yeah, seriously, if you comment, I'm more likely to update.
- C
On one of my flights from LA to Philly after the Rose Bowl, I made the mistake of picking up a Spirit Magazine (Southwest's in-flight magazine). The Libra horoscope read: Stay home this month. Leaving will be stressful due to travel snafus. I paraphrased, but you get the point. Sure enough, my flight from Nashville to Philly, the final leg of my journey, was delayed. Well, damn, thought I. This does not bode well. I arrived home, an hour later than I was expecting, and with the knowledge that my passport had not yet been returned by the British Consulate-General in NYC. You see, in order to make my trip overseas easier, I decided to apply for a visa. With a visa, I will be able to pass through customs with ease (hopefully), among other benefits. Unfortunately, the visa process took longer than I thought/advertised. The Consulate-General's website reads:
We aim to process the majority of mailed applications within 5 business days regardless of which visa you are applying for. However we would advise all applicants to make their applications a minimum of 14 days before their proposed date of travel. This is particularly important during the busy holiday periods at Christmas and the summer.Ok, fine, did that. Thought it would be fine. Silly me. I received an email saying that my visa application had been received and that it could take 5 working days to review. Oh no. So I attempt to call the Consulate-General the day after I get home, in order to inform them of my increasingly urgent situation. Unfortunately, it is IMPOSSIBLE to talk to a real person in that office about visas. And I'm serious when I say IMPOSSIBLE. You try: (212) 745-0200. Enjoy the switchboard voice, she's all you'll hear for about 15 minutes. The option that their website provides is calling an outside company, for $3 a minute or a $12 flat fee. They also let you know beforehand that this company can't tell you anything about specific applications, just give you general suggestions and advice. Thanks, British Consulate. You're so helpful.
I call that company, spend most of my call time on hold, and finally get to talk to a woman who says that she can send an email marked as "urgent" for me. Oh, good, because I have every confidence that they read their email regularly when elsewhere on the site it says that they take an average of 22 days to return emails. Uh huh. But what else could I do? I had her do that, said thank you, and freaked out. Things were looking more bleak. As my mom said, "What a cluster." I spent the night packing, not knowing if I would actually be leaving the next night or not.
After some deliberation, my dad agreed to drive to NYC first thing in the morning the next day. Note: I live about 2 hours away from NYC, depending on traffic. Sometimes it's less, but often more. We left at 8am and made good time until Hoboken. Which is how it always goes. Fortunately, my dad's GPS suggested an alternate route that saved us about 45 minutes of sorrow trying to get into the Lincoln Tunnel. Seriously. I was astounded.
As a quick aside, my dad hates driving in cities, NYC most of all. It's contrary to his driving style. So for him to do this for me, when we have no guarantee that this venture will be at all fruitful, is nothing short of the ultimate show of love. And I am incredibly grateful for my long-suffering father indeed. Most especially for what comes later.
We get to the city, find the Consulate, park. At this point, it's approximately 10:15, and we haven't eaten or done anything but drive since early that morning. Upon entering the building that houses the Consulate, we find a line of three or four other guys arguing with the security guard, an old Caribbean man. They are all apparently having the same problem that I am, and there is nobody in the entire building that we can talk to. Cue terrible feeling of doom. The guys in front of me had no luck, so of course I didn't either. We gave up after approximately 5 minutes, because what else could we do? Storm the Consulate? Nope. It was time to drive the 2 hours back home, after walking back to the car. My dad, because he is a phenomenal human being, said nothing, making this experience slightly easier for me. I did, however, cry for the next hour and a half, because I was more frustrated than I've ever been in my entire life. That, and I'm a woman. Whatever.
When I got home, I checked my email to find one that said that my visa application had been approved and had a UPS tracking number. When I tracked the package, it said that it had been billed on Jan. 2nd, but had no further info. I called UPS, they started an inquiry and found out that the package was just sitting at the Consulate, ready to ship that night. Um, WTF GUYS. So I think that my visa had actually been issued on Jan. 2nd, but they waited until last night to ship it. THANKS. AWESOME. The girl at UPS told me that it should arrive on Monday. Great, so I officially have to change my flight to London and then the connecting flight to Edinburgh. Which is what I spent yesterday afternoon doing.
Besides damages for emotional distress, I maintain that the British government owes me about $900 for last minute flight changes. Yeah, thanks, guys. Great working with you.
Barring any further unforeseen catastrophes, at which point I would probably have to take this semester off (because I am not, in fact, made of money), I leave from Newark at 6:55pm on Tuesday. At which point I will have missed orientation and my first three days of classes. But hey, whatever, I'll figure it out. At least I'll be there.
On the up-side, I get to be home for my dad's birthday tomorrow. I can tell him that I have nothing but gratitude for his existence, because that's the truth.
And that is the terrible story of why I am still home, bored.
Because it might come in handy, my exact flight info is as follows:
Outbound: Virgin Atlantic Flight 3118 (operated by Continental) departing Newark at 6:55pm Jan. 8th and arriving London Gatwick at 6:55am on Jan. 9th.
easyJet flight 703 departing London Gatwick at 10:30am and arriving Edinburgh at 12:00pm.
Inbound: Virgin Atlantic Flight VS0001 departing London Heathrow at 4:00pm Jun. 30th and arriving Newark 6:40pm Jun. 30th.
And now that I've told you all sorts of stuff, there are things that I want to know from you.
1) Who's planning on reading this?
2) Anything specific you want pictures/descriptions of?
That's really it. Just trying to cater to my audience and make this more exciting for anyone that chooses to read this. But yeah, seriously, if you comment, I'm more likely to update.
- C
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