The journey home

While most of Split was still asleep or just stumbling home from nightclubs, we walked down the gangway and into a taxi at 4:30 in the morning on the 20^th of October. Tony from our boat had arranged the pick up for us and though he told us it would cost 250 Kuna, the driver insisted on 300. Brandon asked him to stop at a bank then because we’d made it work that we only had exactly the cash we needed left. Instead, he pulled into a gas station, put 300 Kuna worth into the car and then had Brandon come in and pay for it. Works the same I guess!

 

We arrived at the Split airport which was in another town about 30 minutes from the port in lots of time - before the airline staff even got there. There was a long line up but we checked in alright and then sat at the gate waiting to board our short, 45 minute flight to Zagreb where we would then catch our connecting flight to London. We arrived, made it through passport control, and then managed to finally get the attention of the crazy busy lady at the one coffee shop to get some breakfast and water. We then proceeded to wait, and wait, and wait some more constantly watching the screen above our gate willing it to give us more information other than just the word DELAY. We were supposed to leave at 8:30 and finally, after a nap, more coffee, a complete game of crazy 8’s countdown with our trusty Canada flag cards, and a trip through the duty free shop, they announced that they would have an update at 10:00. Then they announced they would have an update at 10:30. And again at 11. At noon they started boarding our flight. And then, because the crew had worked their maximum 6 hours already, we had to wait for the replacement crew. We were finally off the ground just after 12:30 and everyone was plenty cranky. We stayed pretty calm though, figuring there was little point getting too upset when there was really nothing we could do about it anyway. Would’ve been nice to sleep a little later though.

 

Now we had planned on having those four hours we spent stuck in the Zagreb airport in London. We wanted to go to Hamley’s toy store again and we didn’t want to have to hurry to get our train at 3:40 to Manchester. As it turned out, we had an hour and a half to get from Heathrow to Euston station. When we landed we made it through the customs line in record time, waited very impatiently for our back packs at the baggage claim and then hurried through the airport trying to find the trains into the city. We paid 38 Pounds to take the express train to Paddington station which thankfully only took 15 minutes. There, we bought Tube tickets and then pushed our way onto the first car we could trying to make our way to Euston. What should’ve been very easy was complicated by closures on both lines we needed to take. Great! Three trains later we piled off the Tube and ran up all the escalators to get into the main Euston station. And somehow, though I’m still not sure how we were that lucky, we made it onto our Manchester bound train with just six, that’s 6, minutes to spare. We sat there for a moment and just laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and were thankful that we weren’t like some of the people on our flight from Zagreb who’d missed their connecting flights to the States.

 

Thankfully there was a café on the train and we were able to get packaged sandwiches and bags of crisps to eat as lunch/dinner and when it came time to change at Crewe, we weren’t as stressed or worried anymore about time. We arrived in Manchester at the airport station and after eventually locating a phone, we called the hotel to send a shuttle to pick us up. We were so grateful to Brandon’s mom and dad for booking us that hotel for the night because at that point we were so tired and looking so forward to the idea of a hot tub and a hot meal. We got checked in after what felt like pulling teeth at the front desk only to find dried puke all over the toilet in our room. But rather than changing us to a different room, they just sent someone in to clean it. Great, but then we just had to deal with the stench of it all night. They offered us a free drink as compensation which we declined and then went in search of the pool. That at least was a relaxing hour.

 

We ordered room service and while I dozed in and out of sleep, Brandon accidentally pulled the emergency cord in the bathroom. Because they put us in a disabled friendly room there were two of these cords, one next to the bathtub and one next to the bed. It wasn’t all that horrible, just embarrassing to get a phone call and then a knock on the door to reset the alarm. Oops! We had a good night’s sleep and then went down to a hot breakfast. Then, trying to brush my hair before putting all the toiletries into my back pack, I pulled the emergency cord. Agghhh! Anyway, we checked out and got into the car that took us back to the airport where we got into the long line to check into our flight. Security took a long time too and by the time we got ourselves put back together, shopped and picked our way through all the duty free to find our gate, it was nearly time to start boarding. And though it was a good flight, it was much, much too long and squishy. Not so bad as the Thomas Cook flight to London last September, but bad enough.

 

We landed safely, though a little late in Calgary on October 21^st, a year and a month since we left. Going through customs was quick, they didn’t question any of our time away or the very small value we put down for what we were bringing back into the country. It then took forever and a day for our luggage to come down onto the belt. We were actually starting to worry when they finally appeared. Then through the last check point and we were officially in Calgary. Our parents and Brandon’s brother were there waiting for us, complete with a bright yellow sign welcoming us back. The hugs and the tears were worth the early morning, the long flight and the wait in the airport. The snow was a bit of a shock and the cold was not all that welcome.

 

Everything here remembers us as well as we remember it. We’ve moved into our house now and nearly everything went back into the place it was when we lived here last year. There are still a few pictures to put up, but all the boxes are unpacked and tomorrow the tv and internet will be hooked up. I start work on Monday, Brandon has an interview tomorrow, we’re going to band practice tonight…and as wonderful as it all is and as comfortable as we feel, I can’t help but wish that our address was still Elgin Terrace. I want to open my door and step out into Edinburgh. I want to go to Rosslyn Chapel or to Queensferry to take pictures of the bridge. I know I shouldn’t be sad and yet something in me is yearning already for the place we carved out for ourselves there. It’ll pass I’m sure, I just need a routine and some normalcy here that reminds me of how good it is to be in Canada. But I sure need to look a little harder for beauty here. It is good to be home.