Well, I made it. I arrived in Buenos Aires two days later tan expected and with a lot more miles under my belt, but I’m now sitting in the reception area of the Bohemia Buenos Aires Hotel not far from where Eva Peron stepped out on to the balcony of the Casa Rosada and addressed the crowd.
It wasn’t an easy journey – the snow managed to hamper my journey in all aspects apart from my final flight.
My Sunday flight from Heathrow was cancelled and then I was re-routed via Manchester to Copenhagen where I had an overnight stay, which I spent in a closed hotel bar, before catching a flight to Frankfurt which would take me to Toronto then on to Buenos Aires. But, after I had checked in and made sure the flight was going, the snow closed Frankfurt so I was stuck in Copenhagen Airport having not slept for almost 24 hours, not feeling very fresh and absolutely furious.
I marched up to the transfer counter and began my rant; “I am very, very angry!” and explained my situation. The woman who served me was annoyed that I had been allowed to check in when the staff were aware of the problems in Frankfurt and she arranged a flight to Paris where I would catch an Air France plane. However, she then confessed that she might not be able to get my bag off the plane as they are sent in cargo containers. She did call all the numbers available, but alas I had to watch my bag take off six hours later and head to Frankfurt without me.
I was given food vouchers and bought myself breakfast and lunch – noodles and chicken wings and gallons of drinks. I chatted to other stranded passengers including a woman from Mauritius who was on her way from New York to see her daughter in London and two Australians who loved the snow. I finally headed to Paris, and never have I been so glad to leave a place.
I won’t use Copenhagen airport as a measure of Denmark because it sucked and the people sucked – they were rude and unfriendly and seem to cough and sneeze with no regard for the germs they were spreading. I was in a foul mood and getting sick was the last thing I wanted. I was also woken up from a short nap when a woman sat on my legs and when I looked up she threw me the filthiest look.
Paris was another world. Friendly and efficient, even when I arrived at the check-in desk and burst into tears. 32 hours of tiredness and frustration came out in a sob and the make-up I had applied ran down my face. I could hardly talk, and what I did say came out in a high pitch whine, but the handsome young Frenchman got me checked in and said everything would be OK – my hero!
After I arrived, I met my friend and we had a relieved hug followed by a mad taxi ride to the hotel. I spent yesterday walking the main streets of Buenos Aires looking for clothes as my black, long sleeve dress which I had been wearing for 48 hours was unpleasant to say the least. So here I am; clean, watered and rested and we’re about to catch a bus to the Andes. I’ve still not got my suitcase, but they have our next address so I’m dreaming of our reconciliation and many happy days together in the sun!