Our Epic Week(end) in Ibiza

Ok, so I realize I've been a huge slacker on my blog for the past few weeks, but with the end of the semester, my family visiting, my failing laptop, and my recent alienation on an island, I've been a little overwhelmed.

At some point, I hope to come back and post about the rest of my trip through Venice, Vicenza, and Verona and about my family's visit to Genoa, but first, I'm going to start with my most recent adventure - being stranded on the island of Ibiza in the midst of the volcanic ash crisis. Judith wrote a blog entry about our trip for our class blog, so since I'm busy with make up work, I'm going to borrow it. Here it is:

"With the end of the semester quickly approaching, Kelsey, Catherine, and I decided to take advantage of the warmer weather and cheap RyanAir flights by flying to Ibiza, a Spanish island in the Mediterranean. We knew that it would be a short weekend but still a nice opportunity to relax and rest-up before the craziness of final reviews set in. We arrived in Ibiza early Friday afternoon and spent a couple of laid-back days strolling the waterfront and exploring other parts of the island. Though it’s known as a club hotspot, we arrived before the start of summer season, meaning that most places on the island, including restaurants, shops, and even supermarkets, were closed. That was just fine with us because we really were just looking for a sunny beach and a quiet weekend. In fact, the weather was cooler and cloudier than expected, and not until the morning of our flight back home did the sun come out in full force. On our ride to the airport, we talked about how we wished we could stay to really enjoy going to the beach on this beautiful day.

We got to the Ibiza airport on Sunday morning, and everything changed. We were met with the departures board that was almost completely filled with angry blinking red signs reading “cancelled.” Apparently, the cloud of ash from an Icelandic volcano had finally made its way far enough south and destroyed our hope of getting home that day. We had heard some mention of the volcanic ash interrupting flights on our way to Ibiza, but those were confined to the United Kingdom and Paris. It never crossed our minds that Italy and southern Spain would be affected. We immediately tried contacting people at the villa to plan our course of action, but with phones running low on battery and minutes, we had limited success. Instead, we settled on getting a refund for our tickets. While waiting in line, we heard that the airport itself might be closing in a few hours and that flights might not resume until May 24th, a whole month later! Needless to say, this did nothing to ease our anxiousness. Luckily, we met two other American students studying in Florence who were also trying to fly back to Pisa. We decided to pool our resources and stick together for a little while at least, and we all headed off to the port in hopes of
getting a ferry to the mainland.

The ticket office, however, was packed with people, and tickets sold out before we were able to purchase any. We learned that ferries to Valencia only ran once a day a few times a week, and the ferry to Barcelona only ran on weekends. We couldn’t even imagine how long the train ride would be back to Genova from these cities. With no more options to travel that day, we went back to our hotel to book an extra night and use their Internet. Of course, this was the one trip when none of us brought a laptop. We were also able to talk to our professor, Bernhard, who warned us that the ferry from Barcelona to Genova would be expensive and eighteen hours long on top of that. Meanwhile, there was a good chance we wouldn’t be able to take a train back from Spain because of a workers’ strike in France. Just great!

Considering everything, he advised us to wait it out in Ibiza until wecould get the next flight out. RyanAir’s next flight to Pisa wasn’t until Wednesday, so we booked our seats and crossed our fingers that the airways would clear. In the meantime, there was nothing to do but try to forget about the uncertainty of our situation and to make the most of our circumstances. We were finally able to experience those hot beach days we had initially envisioned, but they were tainted with the knowledge that we were missing some of our last days in Genova and would have a pile of make-up work when we returned.

We spent a lot more time watching CNN to track the cloud’s progress. We were shocked by the headlines that covered our screen. Over 20,000 flights, including ours, were cancelled that Sunday alone, leaving thousands stranded across the continent and abroad. And we saw first-hand just how many people were affected by the volcanic ash. Everyone that we talked to or overheard in our hotel was trapped just like we were. A couple from Scotland had been stuck for a week! We began to worry that our flight on Wednesday might run into trouble, and even our flight back home to the States a week later. How long were we going to be stuck on this tiny island with no clean clothes, living off turkey and cheese sandwiches we made in the hotel room?

We anxiously watched CNN on Tuesday night, and it sounded like thesituation was improving. Several countries were reopening their airspace, and test flights were successfully being made as far north as the UK. Wednesday morning broke bright and beautiful, but we barely noticed. We just wanted to get home! Our bubble of hope from the night before quickly burst as we checked online and saw that our flight was once again cancelled. At this point, we really started to get upset and frustrated.

The temperature climbed to over 26oC later that day, but I think we reached a boiling point that morning. Once we arrived at the airport (our sixth trip across the island), the departures board confirmed the ugly truth, and we trudged over to the desk once again to get refunds for our tickets. Even more discouraging was the fact that only RyanAir flights were cancelled. Fed up with the airline, we returned to our hotel, and booked yet another night from the nice receptionist who had said three days ago, “Oh, I thought you were leaving.” No, we’re still here.

After touching base with Bernhard, we decided to give up on RyanAir and just get off the island as soon as possible. We were able to find a different airline with a flight the next morning at 10 am to Florence. Unfortunately, it also came with a higher fare attached to it - $300 - and our plans for a cheap weekend to Ibiza, with original flights for 20 euros, continued to unravel.

Light comments about being trapped in paradise just weren’t a laughing matter anymore. That afternoon was a decided low point of the trip, and not even ice cream bars could clear our worries. The reality was that we had missed several days of studio and work time, plus a final review for our sketch portfolios. I never thought that I would be so anxious to get back to work, but the clock was ticking. There was still so much I wanted to do and see in Genova before getting into final reviews and then ultimately flying back home.

Thursday morning brought a change in the weather and a change in our fortunes. The drizzly rain did nothing to dampen our spirits as we successfully took off and left the island behind us (hopefully forever!). The eight-hour layover in Barcelona was long, but it was just another step in the road back home. We wanted to get home as soon as possible, but the three-hour delay in our flight meant we didn’t reach Florence until late Thursday night. We had to wait until the next morning to complete our prolonged journey back to Genova. The first train that we could take left at 4:30 am, and we rolled out of bed at 3:30 to have enough time to buy tickets and make the early-bird train. The cards didn’t fall in our favor again, though, as our train and many others that morning were cancelled. Instead, we were only able to buy tickets for a train at 7:30 and hope that this one wasn’t cancelled too. Meanwhile, we returned to our hotel by 4:30 to grab a few extra hours of sleep.

7:30 came, and once again the departures board was filled with cancelled trains. We were luckier this time, and grabbed another train bound in the same direction . Even this one was delayed by forty minutes. Why was everything working against us?! We never did discover the reason for the railway confusion, and in fact we expected it to be the smoothest part of our trip.

So finally, a shortly after 11 am on Friday, seven days and five hours after leaving our villa, the three of us finally made a safe return home. It took us five taxi rides, two trains, and two flights, but we eventually made it back from our “weekend trip” to Ibiza.

With the memory still so vivid in my mind, it is difficult to see the best in the situation, but I know in the future it will remain an unforgettable story. We feared at first that we were going to come back from a completely unremarkable weekend. Instead, we found ourselves in the midst of an international airways crisis that will surely remain in the record books for years to come."