Cyprus. The country of Aphrodite and love and...whatnot. A country I've been to every year since I was 2. A country that I usually spend a week in...not over THREE weeks. Now, I would have gone through a detailed scenario of what happened each day, I even wrote down funny little things that happened. ALAS a little incident occurred which has changed that. Well I say little, a volcano. Oh yes, I was a Volcano Victim of April 2010! I nearly DIED.
What? Exaggerating? Obviously not...
We were meant to come home on Saturday 17th April. We woke up on Thursday 15th April to the news that volcanic ash had grounded Scotland and Northern England. Oh well. On Friday we woke to the news that the volcano had grounded the whole of EUROPE. "Oh...shit." We weren't going home. We were staying in Cyprus. That was confirmed on Saturday morning when we found out our flight was cancelled, so we tried ringing our rep...who told US to phone Monarch our airline. She was our rep. Surely she was meant to do that? But we couldn't get through, no-one was answering. We were quite literally trapped. But seeing as no-one was coming IN to the hotel, we could stay in our room (still paying mind) and the hotel occupants ended up to being like a big family in the same situation.
On Sunday and Monday the stories started appearing that people were getting boats home. Diverting to other countries and hiring cars. Having days on trains. But to be honest, we couldn't be bloody bothered to do that. So we stayed and sunbathed, and ate, and read, and sunbathed some more.
It was amazing how 21st Century had come to and standstill because of mother nature. Like Earth was going "Fair enough, if you're not gonna stop global warming then I'll have to sort it out myself." Almost shows that the things around us in this modern time shouldn't happen, goes against natural things. And shows how powerful Earth is. BAM and that's why I'm taking Philosophy at A Level.
Now when this all started we were worried, we wanted to come home, I had an Art GCSE on Monday and Tuesday and we were running out of money. But then when our agent in London phoned to say we could get a flight on the 29th, nearly two weeks after our planned departure, we had got it in our heads that we were staying. We couldn't blame anyone so we just got on with it. An extra holiday, score!
HOWEVER
On Wednesday night, a week before our flight, our agent phoned again just to mention that he'd got us on a flight for 6am, Thursday morning. Damn. We were coming home. "RIGHT. SHOWERS. PACK. TIDY HOTEL. GO GO GO!" It was like a bloody army mission. We legged it up to the hotel room to get ready. Dinner at 7pm (we'd got upgraded to half board this day by the way, typical) then ran round Paphos to the restaurants we'd become really good friends with. SO sad. We weren't ready to say goodbye! So 1am Thursday we left Paphos in a Mercedes Benz people carrier to Larnaca airport, an hour away, with a crazy Greek taxi driver, in the rain. Settling. *grips onto seatbelt for dear life* We arrived at Laranca at 2.30am, 2 hours before check in time, and were welcomed to a sea of people. People sleeping inside and outside. People queuing for miles. People arguing. People crying. It was PACKED. We found our check in desks and joined the huddle, chatting to people who optimistically told us that 'they were here yesterday and got turned away, they just tell everyone to come.' Yeah thanks for telling us that.
"WE'RE ON THIS FLIGHT! WE BOOKED THIS MORNING LOOK, OUR TICKETS! LET US ON THIS BLOODY PLANE!" Ohhhh crap. "Excuse me can you MOVE. We need to get on this plane too, and you're clearly not getting on it so MOVE, there are kids here!" Ohhhhh dear please shush. "I'm asking you nicely now, MOVE ASIDE please we want to get on this plane!" Is the world ending or something? Or is there a deadly creature on the island we need to get the fuck away from? A couple at the desk in front were being denied seats but were arguing back, causing the surrounding people around us to shout at these people cos WE needed to get on. While a little boy in the next queue shouted 'YES! We can go back to Britain mummy!' While his dad lifted his boarding card in triumph going 'YYYEEESSS!!!!' Oh jesus. Anyway, we got through and took off at 6am just as the sun was rising. SOBSOBSOBSOB. *places palms on window, silent tear*
3 hours in: "We're gonna crash. The ash is gonna get in and WE'RE GOING TO DIE." Matt STFU. *buries head in mum's lap*
5 hours in: *steps onto British soil* "RUUUULE BRITANNIA, GOD SAVE OUR GRAAAACIOUS QUEEN etc etc *kisses ground* Now take me back to Cyprus it's bloody FREEZING HERE."
And THEN Andrew Lloyd Webber's brother walked into Matt at Gatwick and didn't say sorry.
*outside nan's house* "Oh yeah mum we might be coming home tomorrow now! Yes mum we have washed our underwear. Weather's amazing. Is the sun out? Err....YES." *matt rings doorbell, nan answers, rollers in hair* "....I hate you all. Go back to Cyprus."Hahahahahahahaha.
"Shussshhhh they don't know you're here! They're in the living room playing on the wii..." *opens door slowly, Nadia and Genna stare at me, :| faces* "OH MY GOD *bundles me* How the hell did they let you through immigration?!" Holy shizers I missed those two.
And that was my anecdote and future story for the Grandkids. Now look at some photos. X
