Friday, August 17, 2018

on the up side, I didn't have to put away the chickens

In all my travels to Europe, only once did I miss my overseas flight and it was because that flight itself was cancelled (due to weather). Oh, I've paid the price for such a good track record: I have spent long, long hours at airports. For Europe trips, I book flights with hefty layovers.

Except this time. For my Icelandic escape, I had to connect in Minneapolis and that connection was a tad tight. One hour. A little wiggle room, but not a lot.

Why would I stray into this thin ice? Because. Last minute bookings don't offer much for the budget minded. It's what was available.

I know you'll have predicted the outcome. The storms exploded in Madison exactly at the time the plane that was to take us to Minneapolis was coming in for a landing. Low on fuel, it had to be diverted.

The storm lasted some twenty minutes, but the diversion sealed my fate. I would miss my connection. And because it was the next to last flight out of Madison for the day (the last one was to Salt Lake City -- not good for those needing to cross the Atlantic), I had no choice but to call it quits and return home.

The agent was very empathetic.

Delta is a nice airline and they will have surely given me credit for a cancelled trip. Because I should cancel. Flying on Friday would have me land in Reykjavik on Saturday morning. My flight back home leaves Monday morning. I mean, who goes to Iceland for 48 hours?

Well, I do.

I admit, it did give me pause. I'm not in love with having jet lag twice within just two days. But I booked a place to stay that had a "no cancellation" policy. I already lost a paid night (at hefty Icelandic prices). I'm not going to lose two more.

Moreover, I have chicken sitters. (Whom I waved off for this day at least.)

And so the rains came down and in the darkness of the night I trudged home, poured a glass of wine and emailed Ed, who is not reachable, but still, I wanted to groan and I don't like to groan too much with daughters or friends.

Today, I did not work in the garden. After feeding them, I ignored the animals. And I didn't see the grandkids -- all of whom are being engaged by other grandpeople this weekend.

I have for you one photo of lovely holdout lilies, one of cheepers -- wondering why the hell I'm still here, and one of a solitary porch breakfast.

farmette life.jpg

farmette life-2.jpg

farmette life-5.jpg

Three Reykjavik emails appear in my inbox, all of them make me smile: in the first, my hosts express their sympathy at my missed flight. "You'll have to cram a lot in!" Indeed.

In the second email, the cleaning staff informs me that the unit is now available and I can come any time. Oh yeah! My unit is three thousand miles away from where I am right now!

The third one is from the "Heimaleiga Team." Iceland people. They manage rental units. My own included. The email informs me that due to two extraordinary events on Saturday, much of Reykjavik's streets will be closed to traffic. If you have a car (I don't and I wont), you will not be able to bring it downtown before midnight. It appears that two events are taking place: it is the day of the Reykjavik Marathon and perhaps even more importantly -- it is Reykjavik's Culture Night, billed as Iceland's most important festival. I looked it up of course. The events are all over the place, physically speaking and content wise: from hip hop and free jazz and symphony at the incredible Harpa Concert Hall, to a demonstration of how "bloodthirsty Vikings solve a small problem with war" by the Pond -- that body of water that I had so ineptly captured in my photo that weekend in November of 1973.

I now understand why it was nearly impossible for me to find an accommodation in Reykjavik this weekend.

I'm posting from Minneapolis, so you'll know that at the very least I got this far today. On an earlier flight. With lots of time for a connection. 

May I assume that the next post really will be from Reykjavik? Please?