Eventful Easter Holiday (Part III of IV)

Flight = cancelled.  School started the next day, and it was disappointing to miss class.  However, there was nothing that could be done.  The airline had a toll-free number, which I was able to call and get on a flight to London that left on Tuesday evening.  Fine.  Book it.  Michael cooked a nice lunch whilst I was sorting everything out.  After eating, I decided to move on.  Zagreb, Croatia was a two-hour train ride away and Michael said it was supposed to be nice (he was going there next).  I wanted to go to Budapest, Hungary, but it was too far away and there was too little time.  It seemed as if his research on Slovenia payed off (for the both of us!), so why not listen and go to Croatia?  There was nothing left to do or see in Ljubljana, so I purchased a return ticket to Slovenia and was on the next train out of the country.  The real adventure began.

The train ride to Zagreb, Hrvatska (Croatia) was pleasant.  We passed through hills and small towns, snaked along rivers and dashed across green fields.  We stopped at the border on both the Slovenian/European Union and Croatian sides.  It was actually kind of odd to go through a border on the continent that you actually had to show your passport and got a stamp.  It was obvious that EU membership/money made a difference to Slovenia.  You could immediately see the difference between the two countries--Croatia was visibly more run-down and poorer.  The countryside and villages through which we passed were decent, although the ride into Zagreb was not impressive (as was the case with Ljubljana).  Again, to use an apropos cliché, it was foolish to judge this book by the cover.

Zagreb was a bigger, more eye-pleasing version of Ljubljana.  The entire city could have used a thorough powerwash and re-plastering/re-cementing.  Actually, the old buildings with decaying facades looked quite rustic and regal.  There were plenty of green spaces that had trees and flowers in bloom, which were gorgeous.  The churches in the city were pretty, and the hill up which the city crawled and over which you could look over the city offered splendid views on the warm, sunny day.  Colourful restaurants and shops lined the upper town's (hill) streets were overflowing with people walking, chatting and eating under the outside tables with umbrellas.  It was very pleasurable.  However, I was anxious to get back to London.

Tuesday couldn't have come soon enough.  It seems as if I could only spend 1.5-2ish days in a city before becoming bored and wanting to move on.  The fact that I was missing class, and my friends who I hadn't seen in 3+ weeks, didn't help the matter.  I was constantly checking the internet at the crappy hostel in which I was staying (appropriately named, "Funk Hostel") for information on my flight and Gatwick Airport/British airspace.  The airline stated that there would be an update on my flight at noon, and the British airspace was closed until 19.00.  My flight was supposed to land at 19.25.  Gatwick's website, which provided updates about the status of the volcanic ash and resulting airport closures, stated that it was unlikely that the airspace would be open at all on that day.  Shit.  However, the day before I spotted the airline office from the place on the main square at which I was sitting for lunch.  It was time to go and check the status of the flight.  They told me to come back at 12 when the main office would provide them with information and they could act appropriately.  For curiosity, I asked when the next available flight was to London; it was Sunday.

By this time Michael was supposed to be arriving by train in Zagreb.  His train was late, so I enquired about train tickets to London.  They only had seats available on the train to München (Munich), Germany.  Another bloke, who was standing in the queue behind me, was waiting to book a ticket to get to Edinburgh, Scotland.  He too had no luck, and proposed getting the train to München and then renting a car to get from there to Paris (to catch the Eurostar train), to which there were no train seats available that day, or to all the way to London.  Michael finally arrived and I explained my situation as the Croat called his wife, who apparently was a travel agent.  After some thought and discussion, I decided to pass on waiting for the official announcement on the flight (which was 99% likely to be cancelled) and book the ticket to Germany.  That was the first of many decisions to take a train where I didn't know what the hell would happen on the other end.  When, if seemingly ever, would I get home?!

To be continued...  The end is next (I promise)!