From A Hot Island to a Cold One.

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Our round trip flight from Frankfurt to Crete on Condor (a German airline), was quite a steal. It only cost us 170 Euros. Considering how far we went that is quite the deal, if you flew that far within North America I'm sure you'd be likely to pay almost twice that much. While on the flight home, I took a picture of Jessi and Jono making the general sad face. The pouty "look how cute we are and isn't it just awful that we have to leave this beautiful paradise", kind of look. I then did what I always did for the past 2.5 months--i put my camera back in a pouch in my purse. Like normal, I did what any good passenger does, and I looked in the little basket on the seat in front of me, and around my chair to make sure I had everything. I appeared to. I made my way down to the train station with Jessi and Jono so they could buy their ticket to Heidelberg and so that I could figure out where/how I was going to get to the Frankfurt Hahn airport later that day. We had a coffee while we waited for an hour for their train. We ignored the impending goodbye. It's hard to pretend like you're not about to say goodbye when you're sitting in an airport. Time went quickly, and eventually i walked them to their platform.

In an attempt not to cry, I thought I would take a picture. Jessi however decided that giving me a really long hug was a better idea. I guess, it was nice, if you like that sort of thing. She's tough, you know the black belt and all, but she was almost crying, Jono decided to get on the train first to avoid crying. I guess it was a little messy, but we held it together pretty nicely. Before the train pulled away I was going to take a photo, but I couldn't find my camera. I attributed it to being sad. And waved and made my way up the escalator where I did in fact start crying--I had been good up to that point. After a few minutes I shook it off, and then was curious to see where my camera went. So I started to look through my purse, then my day pack.. nothing. Knowing I had put it back in my purse on the plane, but never taken it out again, I assumed that it had fallen out on the plane when i stood up and I didn't notice. So i ran back up through the airport to the Condor counter. Lucky for me, the woman spoke perfect English and called down to lost and found for me. It had been just over an hour since we had landed, so I had high hopes that I would be able to get it back. After a couple of calls, she tells me they don't have it. I know it's there. It has to be. There is no where else it could be. Eventually, she tells me that what probably happened is that the cleaning staff probably found it and kept it. There was no way for me to prove they had it.

My camera was lost. Two months of the most important trip of my lifetime, so far, gone forever. Movies, photos.... I was heart broken. I am heart broken still. I would have rather lost my wallet again. I had managed to upload about 2 weeks worth of photos on facebook, and I knew that my friends had taken a photos when I'd been with them. So there would be some. BUT I had nothing from when I was in Paris, or the people I'd met there, I had also taken tons and tons in Greece and set my timer for the three of us.... all gone. Thinking about it now is still painful.

This was just the beginning of a rather painful day. After saying goodbye to J and J, and my camera--I took the train into Frankfurt. GG and I walked around the city for a while, to see the area in the day light. The red light district wasn't quite so sketchy in the day time. Eventually I made my way to an internet cafe where I wrote sad/angry emails about my camera to my mom and some friends. Then I went back to the train station to grab some food and try and find where my bus to Hahn would e leaving from. I actually almost missed it because it leaves from way down the street, and not at the bus station like the guy at the info desk had told me. I spend most of the ride trying not to cry about my camera. At least this was a distraction from saying goodbye to my friends.

Despite my sadness, I was happy to be out on my own again. I loved being with my friends, but there is something special about traveling on your own. I wouldn't have liked to be in Greece alone so much, but I really loved being in major cities alone for the most part. Especially after you've been there for a while and you meet new people. You can go out at night with them if you want, and then have the day to yourself to do whatever. I also find that when traveling alone my head seems a bit clearer, but I'm not sure how to explain that really.

So after a three hour flight, a six hour stop over in Frankfurt, I am now on a two hour bus ride to Hahn. I wasn't exactly sure how long the ride was, so I decided to get there a little early (I also didn't know when the last bus left) as to not miss my flight, or not have to run for my flight. I also knew there was a soccer game playing, and that I could possibly watch it at the airport but not on the bus. I arrive about 3.5 hours before my 11pm flight.

I'm sad and tired already, I've been basically traveling since 7am, and have just said goodbye to two friends and my camera. So what do I do? I buy myself a bottle of beer, and some really great home style fries and sit in front of a TV with a whole bunch of excited Germans and watch Germany with the quarter final game in soccer. It was actually really awesome, they even announced the score over the PA system. Eventually, and because it's Ryanair it takes forever, I take my last walk on German soil and get on the plane. The ride was a short one, just under two hours, and with the time change I thought maybe, just maybe I could make it into London before 1am and catch the last tube to my hostel. I forgot though--and this is something I did know before--that I wasn't landing at the Gatwick airport (which is where my flight on ryanair left for Dublin) but at Stansted. To get to London from Stansted is about another 2 hour bus ride. Before that though I had to go to customs. For whatever reason there was a HUGE back up and it took about 2 hours to get through. Then I had to change my Euros into pounds. Not to mention I was starving so I bought a couple of snacks for the trip, and finally found my bus.

So to recap, that's a 3 hour plane ride, a six hour lay over, a two hour bus ride, a 2 hour plane ride, a 2 hour wait in customs, and now a two hour bus ride. I was not going to make the last tube. When I do get into London, at Victoria bus station, it is 3:30am (or 5:40am Greece time). I follow some other people and find where the city buses run. From the signs I can't tell which ones run to Earl's Court (the neighborhood of my hostel). I don't remember from the last time I was here, and I can tell that almost no one else will know either. After such a long day I say screw it and decide to take a cab. I walk to one side of the building to try and find one. Nothing. Then to another. Nothing. Finally i go back to where the buses were, and flag one there. GG and I fall into the black cab (i love those things by the way), exhausted and a little uncoordinated. I think I opened the door and literally fell in. It's only about a 15 minute ride to my hostel, but he can't drive down that street, so then i walk the two blocks in the cool London air. I suddenly like it better already than the last time I was there. Even though I'm sad and tired.

I check in with the very nice hostel worker, and some how have to get into my room and my bed, in the dark as quietly as possible as it's about 4:30am---meaning I have been on the go for more than 24 hours. I manage to open the door rather quietly, but it smashes into my day back, hits my plastic water bottle and I'm sure i've woken at least one person in this six bed room up. Then there's a matter of finding which bed is mine, they are marked with numbers, but they're small. And it's dark. As quietly as I can, I take GG off, and take out my alarm clock (which I always pack in this small thing in the front so i don't actually have to open my bag to get it) and use the light from that to find an open bed.. and I just assume that it's mine. I pull GG beside the bed, and decide it's a bad idea to open my locker, or try finding it. Take off my jeans, and crawl into bed....

I believe this to be the longest possible way to get from Greece to London. I don't suggest it.

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