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| cafe at our last airbnb room |
So we started off great. A slow morning in our ghetto neighborhood, which only had the stress of trying to find a printer that would hook up to my computer in order to print off our boarding passes (apparently Ryanair does not have the capability of printing passes when you check in). So after wandering, finding a place, not having wifi, having to go back to the room to email myself the pdfs, and going back in order to print off my email, we finally found ourselves having cappuccinos, boarding passes in hand, at a nice little cafe by the farmers market.
We found the tram to the airport with minimal anxiety and even were able to get on the shuttle bus to the airport with only a few embarrassing moments. (Mom had a definite "chemo brain" incident but that's typical these days...right?)
We get to the airport 2.5 hours early thanks to our paranoia of security lines and missing flights (having Dulles be our local airport has definitely taken its toll). After waiting in a line that queued up to a desk with no clerk, no clerk...no clerk (where are the workers?!) we found another line in another part of the tiny airport that actually did have a clerk. Checked our bags, had some lunch and headed through security. (As a side note: you don't have to strip down in a European airport. If you take off your shoes--or even take out your computer from its case-- you will get looks like you are crazy. Glad we're used to getting those looks at this point of the trip.)
Apparently we had missed the memo that with Ryanair you line up in order to get on the plane hours before the flight takes off. We waited 45 minutes at the back of the line, a line that twisted so far around the waiting area that we weren't sure if we were in the line for Paris, Madrid or Rhodes. Again, not a clerk in sight. Does Ryanair even have employees?! Suddenly the mob we were standing behind took off like a school of fish to another gate. Seriously. Running with bags, children and these darn boarding passes. This thing moved so fast we of course couldn't keep up and found ourselves at the end of the line again, this time at a different gate. The funny thing was, yup hard not to guess, no clerk, no announcement, not an employee in sight. What the ___?! How did these crazy Europeans know to abandon ship and work up a sweat to another line?!
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| ryanair... stupid. |
Waited another 30 minutes to have a couple of buses pull up. The line funneled through another boarding pass check point (an employee at last!) where they simply ripped your infamous piece of paper of a pass, not checking passports, and letting you run (again) across the tarmac to the bus. As the bus pulled up to the plane (again just sitting somewhere on the runway) people, apparently just dying to show their athletic abilities as often as possible, ran to the doors of the plane. The back door was open and a huge procession formed there and suddenly, in keeping with Ryanair tradition, another door opened at the front of the plan and there was a scramble to get in that new line. No explanation. No directions to the second door. I just...I just... what?!
A bumpy ride ensued. Applause when we landed (literally). We get out, find our bags and find out that the cab we were going to spring for was no where in sight because of course every taxi on the island is on strike. I called the hotel where the following helpful conversation conspired:
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| new room |
-- Hi, we are staying there tonight. What's the best way to get there without a taxi?
-- The bus.
-- Which bus?
-- Only one bus. Take the bus, get off (no stop name given) and turn at the gas station.
-- Okaaaaay... So where are you?
-- On the road. End of the road.
Alright, so I'm thinking this is a whole island. Are you telling me there's ONE bus for the WHOLE island and that we will find this unnamed "road" at which we will turn down it and arrive at our hotel. I'm thinking there's a 100% chance we will not get there tonight. Just to add to any confusion we might still be having, the Kayak website on which I booked our hotel the night before, boasted of a hotel located in the center of Rhodes Town, the capitol of the island and where we wanted to be. Whenever I google the location of this said hotel (again because I am completely certain "the road" will be an adventure in itself" says that no, we are NOT in the center of the city, located north of the airport, but in fact 6 km south of the airport in the middle of no where.
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| view from new room |
Now, as has been well established in the past, I am not a person that does well when I am lost. My blood boils, I start making threats and any polite and flexible part of my personality completely disappears only to be replaced with a snappy, inconsolable and obstinate one. Lovely. My poor mom is trying to be cheerful but it's not happening. The clerk at the tour-bus desk (think of it-- a clerk! Novel idea!) thankfully had heard of the hotel and put us on a mini-bus with a driver who would take us there. At this point it is 10.30. Our plan landed, with much acclamation, at 8 pm. The driver keeps going, and going and going. Drops us off at a hotel that looks nice enough but remember that "road", yea, definitely barely paved and probably AT LEAST a mile long.
Finally! We've arrived at the hotel! Our travel calamities are over!
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| shower... hmmm |
-- Ashley who? You have a reservation?
-- Yup (says my unyielding self, looking for someone to murder)
-- You're staying only one night? Not more? No one stays one night.
-- Yup. Only one night. We have the confirmation right here. Already paid you and everything.
-- One night?
-- YEEEEEES. (thoughts of how exactly I could kill this guy without getting caught were filling my brain)
-- In that case, we are over booked. It is only one night-- it is ok if you stay somewhere else. I will take you. It is only one night. It will not be bad for only one night.
They literally had to drag me to another mini bus. At this point I am not only not being polite but actively (and visibly) rolling my eyes, huffing like a pro and in general showing my wrinkled tail feathers.
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| pool view from our room |
To sum it up, we get to a much smaller hotel. Three single bedrooms, shower with no curtain and no doors. The owner of the hotel is a little family that has run it for 15+. The owner's son called himself "Doctor Love" because he was determined to turn me back into a nice person. We had great stuffed veggies for dinner and generally began to chill out and enjoy the island.
No internet in our rooms though, so sorry this is a day late. I'll enter in our adventures from yesterday later today when we get to Rhodes Town. Traveling can't get any more difficult than this... riiiiiiiight?!
