Our trip to Cyprus has all of the elements of an epic Greek tale.
It began with hurricane conditions in Florida, which made getting to the airport a very slow process.
Our spirits were lifted by the gate agent waiving all of our baggage fees, which saved us a small fortune. We had four bags to check plus a guitar. Two of the bags were WAY beyond heavy.
In a moment of classic Hollywood, I carried Mr. F's leather satchel in one hand and guitar in the other. I danced as best I could with all of the extra baggage while singing, "I have confidence in con-fee-dence uh-looooone!!!" Julie Andrews would have been mightily impressed. At the very least, Mr. F giggled.
We had a wholly disappointing final meal in Amrika at the airport Outback Steakhouse. Never before has Outback disappointed me. But they did, oh they did.
Our flight to mainland Europe was a dream. Have you ever flown Lufthansa? They're the best. Well, I don't know about the best, but compared to other international flights I've taken, this thing was a dream. Nice staff, roomier seats, we got to choose our own movies and music from a screen in front of us. I slept but Mr. F stayed up through the night watching Steve McQueen films.
Arrived in Frankfurt and spoke more English in our hour and a half in the airport than we did the entire three months in Dusseldorf. Okay, more than I did.
Mr. F took a nose dive in the middle of the Frankfurt airport. Lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with him.
The next flight was stuffed to capacity with Canadians. Naturally, I put on my Roots hat and had middled -aged Canadian women complimenting me left and right. Then the German flight attendant told me there were so many Germans, in German. And I understood! And giggled.
Arrived in Athens as our flight to Cyprus was supposed to be leaving. We ran with our bags stuffed full of chocolate chips through the airport. There were very few monitors and the one we could find didn't list our flight. Panicked and hyperventilating, again this was me, we asked a member of the security personnel where we might be able to find our flight.
On the other side of the airport.
We ran. Pretty sure we knocked people over with our giant, cumbersome bags. Asked more people and all they could say was, "This way, if it is still there." Never did find out about a gate number.
Got through customs, found a screen that at least listed a flight to Larnaca, and waited in security. Slowest security process ever. I was able to walk though the metal detector, run down to a gate and look at a monitor, come back and still had to wait for my bags to be screened. More hyperventilating.
After what felt like an eternity and about half a dozen members of the Athens Airport staff being rude and unhelpful, a gate agent finally told us where our flight should be. We get there and find out it's been delayed. The agents make an announcement to the crowded area that we would not know more information until nine o'clock. Not that we would leave at nine, but that we'd have more information. It was just before seven and the flight was scheduled for 6:15. Mr. F and I settled in for a long nap while the gate cleared out as people went to claim their free snack and beverage.
We spent the next seven hours waiting for our flight. Mr. F caught up on some sleep during that time while I made friends with whoever I could to maintain my sanity. A young mother, about my age, was waiting with her two sons and husband. Native Cypriots, Mr. F and I spent a great deal of time talking with them and playing with the boys. We learned our first Greek word, kouverta, which means blanket.
Around one in the morning, we boarded the plane and embarked on a very bumpy hour long flight to Larnaca. We arrived just before three, found all four of our heavy bags and the guitar and wandered out to the curb to find our ride waiting for us. Happiest sight EVER was that little Bulgarian man who was to take us to our hotel.
The car stuffed to capacity, Mr. F and I chatted in the back seat and stared at the full moon glimmering over the Cypriot mountains. We were in Cyprus! A not so nice man was waiting at the reception desk to check us in. You can't really blame him for being grumpy at four something in the morning though, can you? We hauled our bags into the room, showered, and fell asleep until midday Monday.
Since then, Mr. F has already started work and we are knee deep in house hunting. We have a pair of lovely friends from church who have taken me to the market and obligingly answer the phone every time I call with yet another question. We went to dinner last night to mull over housing options and ended up discussing the fact that we were actually in Cyprus more than anything. As we get closer to finding a flat, we feel more settled and more inclined to say this is home.
It began with hurricane conditions in Florida, which made getting to the airport a very slow process.
Our spirits were lifted by the gate agent waiving all of our baggage fees, which saved us a small fortune. We had four bags to check plus a guitar. Two of the bags were WAY beyond heavy.
In a moment of classic Hollywood, I carried Mr. F's leather satchel in one hand and guitar in the other. I danced as best I could with all of the extra baggage while singing, "I have confidence in con-fee-dence uh-looooone!!!" Julie Andrews would have been mightily impressed. At the very least, Mr. F giggled.
We had a wholly disappointing final meal in Amrika at the airport Outback Steakhouse. Never before has Outback disappointed me. But they did, oh they did.
Our flight to mainland Europe was a dream. Have you ever flown Lufthansa? They're the best. Well, I don't know about the best, but compared to other international flights I've taken, this thing was a dream. Nice staff, roomier seats, we got to choose our own movies and music from a screen in front of us. I slept but Mr. F stayed up through the night watching Steve McQueen films.
Arrived in Frankfurt and spoke more English in our hour and a half in the airport than we did the entire three months in Dusseldorf. Okay, more than I did.
Mr. F took a nose dive in the middle of the Frankfurt airport. Lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with him.
The next flight was stuffed to capacity with Canadians. Naturally, I put on my Roots hat and had middled -aged Canadian women complimenting me left and right. Then the German flight attendant told me there were so many Germans, in German. And I understood! And giggled.
Arrived in Athens as our flight to Cyprus was supposed to be leaving. We ran with our bags stuffed full of chocolate chips through the airport. There were very few monitors and the one we could find didn't list our flight. Panicked and hyperventilating, again this was me, we asked a member of the security personnel where we might be able to find our flight.
On the other side of the airport.
We ran. Pretty sure we knocked people over with our giant, cumbersome bags. Asked more people and all they could say was, "This way, if it is still there." Never did find out about a gate number.
Got through customs, found a screen that at least listed a flight to Larnaca, and waited in security. Slowest security process ever. I was able to walk though the metal detector, run down to a gate and look at a monitor, come back and still had to wait for my bags to be screened. More hyperventilating.
After what felt like an eternity and about half a dozen members of the Athens Airport staff being rude and unhelpful, a gate agent finally told us where our flight should be. We get there and find out it's been delayed. The agents make an announcement to the crowded area that we would not know more information until nine o'clock. Not that we would leave at nine, but that we'd have more information. It was just before seven and the flight was scheduled for 6:15. Mr. F and I settled in for a long nap while the gate cleared out as people went to claim their free snack and beverage.
We spent the next seven hours waiting for our flight. Mr. F caught up on some sleep during that time while I made friends with whoever I could to maintain my sanity. A young mother, about my age, was waiting with her two sons and husband. Native Cypriots, Mr. F and I spent a great deal of time talking with them and playing with the boys. We learned our first Greek word, kouverta, which means blanket.
Around one in the morning, we boarded the plane and embarked on a very bumpy hour long flight to Larnaca. We arrived just before three, found all four of our heavy bags and the guitar and wandered out to the curb to find our ride waiting for us. Happiest sight EVER was that little Bulgarian man who was to take us to our hotel.
The car stuffed to capacity, Mr. F and I chatted in the back seat and stared at the full moon glimmering over the Cypriot mountains. We were in Cyprus! A not so nice man was waiting at the reception desk to check us in. You can't really blame him for being grumpy at four something in the morning though, can you? We hauled our bags into the room, showered, and fell asleep until midday Monday.
Since then, Mr. F has already started work and we are knee deep in house hunting. We have a pair of lovely friends from church who have taken me to the market and obligingly answer the phone every time I call with yet another question. We went to dinner last night to mull over housing options and ended up discussing the fact that we were actually in Cyprus more than anything. As we get closer to finding a flat, we feel more settled and more inclined to say this is home.
Ok so I'll admit it, I stalk your blog. Whew, now that it's out in the open...I love the way you write. It's so smooth. Anyway, you just keep hopping from one adventure to the next. Definitely some good stories to tell the grandkids :) Miss you!
ReplyDeletewow! What an exciting time for you guys! (by the way this is Rachel Hardie) :)
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