Alternate title for this post: "Don't Let Wales Kick You in the Ass on the Way Out."
I hit upon my first (and hopefully only) travel trouble today. The day just started out wrong when my B&B, for the second day in a row, had no hot water in the morning. And I don't mean "Oh the showers don't get as hot here," I mean ICE FREEZING COLD shower. It sucked and so I was already off to a grumpy start. I checked out of my B&B at 9am, because I figured that would give me enough time to get to Cardiff Central (a 15 minute bus ride) for my 9:50am train. However. Because of the rain and Monday morning traffic, the buses were running very behind, and also very crowded. The first bus actually passed us by because they were too full to take on any other passengers. And then the second bus came late and we got stuck in traffic, leaving me only 10 minutes to get to my train.
This was problematic, because I hadn't checked in and didn't have my ticket. I booked my ticket with National Express, the same people who I booked my bus from London to Cardiff. On my way rushing into the station, I passed a National Express office, and I thought I would pop in and see if I get my ticket there or what. When I got to the front of the line, the attendant told me that this office was for the buses only and to just go into the station and get my ticket there. So I go to the station (5 minutes to my train!) and ask a worker there where I go to check in for my National Express ticket. They respond that I have to go back to the office that I had just come from. I respond that, no, I had just been there and they directed me to come to the station. The worker at the station insists -- National Express office. So I go back out into the rain, dash to the office (2 minutes, I can make it!!!) and the clerk at NE office looks at me as if I have brain damage and I tell him that the train people told me to come back to him and give him my confirmation number. He insists that this office is for the buses only -- my confirmation number is not valid with them -- and tells me to to go to the main desk at the station and give them my confirmation number there and my credit card and they can pull up my reservation. By now I know I've missed my train and it's pointless, but I go back into the station anyway and try again. I get to the desk and the woman is trying to explain to me (like I'm dumb -- LOOK, LADY, I'M A SCHOLAR) that they're not National Express. And I explain to her (again) that I booked a TRAIN ticket through National Express, it's leaving from Cardiff Central and unless there's another Cardiff Central Station, here is my confirmation number and credit card. She responds that their confirmation numbers are nothing like that and runs my card -- no reservations made under that name or with that card.
It was all so maddening. I had double checked the confirmation email last night, so I knew I wasn't crazy. But no one was understanding me. I felt impotent and frustrated, and it was all so stupid because I had missed the train by this point anyhow. Being travel weary, not to mention cranky, soaking wet and mentally exhausted from 3 days of hardcore intellectual fanwanking -- I seriously considered sitting down and having a good cry.
But I am a problem-solving adult, so I did not do that. Instead I just asked about other trains leaving from Cardiff Central to Holyhead. There was one leaving in a little over an hour, so I booked a seat on that, making a mental note to contact National Express once I got to Dublin and figure out how to get a refund for my first ticket. My new train would get me to Holyhead with about half an hour until my ferry to Dublin, so that seemed good.
Once I got on the train, I was still wearing my cranky pants from the whole experience, but I heartened up with the help of some coffee and biscuits from the refreshment trolley. I had to give myself a little talking to -- Don't be mad now. Look at where you are! Look at what you've done! Look at where you're going! -- why bother being pissy for it? I settled back and enjoyed the Welsh countryside, which is amazing. Even with the rain (or maybe because of it) the hills and fields are lush green, with bright accents of yellow and orange from the changing leaves on the trees. Fat sheep dot the hillsides and scamper along the edges of the train tracks. The villages all look picture-postcard perfect and quaint. Later in my journey, the countryside gave way to craggy cliffs and stunning rocky beaches.
Of course, my train ride couldn't be perfect or easy. About an hour outside of Holyhead, there was a technical failure on the tracks. We were stuck sitting on the tracks without power for about 20 minutes. Meaning that I had to RUN to catch my ferry. I barely made it but I was the last one they let on.
The ferry ride was downright bizarre, but also comfortable (comfy seats, swish bar area, a little shop -- I love a little shop! -- and gambling arena). They randomly played Peter Pan over the closed circuit TVs. Because of the weather and the speed we were going, we got tossed around a great deal. So much so that twice on the journey, cups, plates and various other sundry items slid off the bar, causing a huge clatter and mess. Once I boarded the ferry I got a sandwich because I was starving. I ate it before we departed. Once we got going though, I regretted it. Not that I felt seasick per se, but I didn't feel good either, headachey, mostly. The tossing around was not helping matters.
But I am here, I survived. And as much as an ordeal it was to get here, it was worth it. As we de-boarded the ferry, one of the other passengers, an old pudgy Irishman in a Celtic jersey and wearing a velor tiger-print cowboy hat, began (drunkenly, I suspect) singing "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" and making the funniest, most bizarre jokes. It was all so random and weird, I couldn't help but giggle. I'm taking him as an omen for the crazy fun time I'm going to have while I'm here.
YOU GUYS, I'M IN DUBLIN. HOLY CRAP. I WISH YOU WERE ALL HERE.
I hit upon my first (and hopefully only) travel trouble today. The day just started out wrong when my B&B, for the second day in a row, had no hot water in the morning. And I don't mean "Oh the showers don't get as hot here," I mean ICE FREEZING COLD shower. It sucked and so I was already off to a grumpy start. I checked out of my B&B at 9am, because I figured that would give me enough time to get to Cardiff Central (a 15 minute bus ride) for my 9:50am train. However. Because of the rain and Monday morning traffic, the buses were running very behind, and also very crowded. The first bus actually passed us by because they were too full to take on any other passengers. And then the second bus came late and we got stuck in traffic, leaving me only 10 minutes to get to my train.
This was problematic, because I hadn't checked in and didn't have my ticket. I booked my ticket with National Express, the same people who I booked my bus from London to Cardiff. On my way rushing into the station, I passed a National Express office, and I thought I would pop in and see if I get my ticket there or what. When I got to the front of the line, the attendant told me that this office was for the buses only and to just go into the station and get my ticket there. So I go to the station (5 minutes to my train!) and ask a worker there where I go to check in for my National Express ticket. They respond that I have to go back to the office that I had just come from. I respond that, no, I had just been there and they directed me to come to the station. The worker at the station insists -- National Express office. So I go back out into the rain, dash to the office (2 minutes, I can make it!!!) and the clerk at NE office looks at me as if I have brain damage and I tell him that the train people told me to come back to him and give him my confirmation number. He insists that this office is for the buses only -- my confirmation number is not valid with them -- and tells me to to go to the main desk at the station and give them my confirmation number there and my credit card and they can pull up my reservation. By now I know I've missed my train and it's pointless, but I go back into the station anyway and try again. I get to the desk and the woman is trying to explain to me (like I'm dumb -- LOOK, LADY, I'M A SCHOLAR) that they're not National Express. And I explain to her (again) that I booked a TRAIN ticket through National Express, it's leaving from Cardiff Central and unless there's another Cardiff Central Station, here is my confirmation number and credit card. She responds that their confirmation numbers are nothing like that and runs my card -- no reservations made under that name or with that card.
It was all so maddening. I had double checked the confirmation email last night, so I knew I wasn't crazy. But no one was understanding me. I felt impotent and frustrated, and it was all so stupid because I had missed the train by this point anyhow. Being travel weary, not to mention cranky, soaking wet and mentally exhausted from 3 days of hardcore intellectual fanwanking -- I seriously considered sitting down and having a good cry.
But I am a problem-solving adult, so I did not do that. Instead I just asked about other trains leaving from Cardiff Central to Holyhead. There was one leaving in a little over an hour, so I booked a seat on that, making a mental note to contact National Express once I got to Dublin and figure out how to get a refund for my first ticket. My new train would get me to Holyhead with about half an hour until my ferry to Dublin, so that seemed good.
Once I got on the train, I was still wearing my cranky pants from the whole experience, but I heartened up with the help of some coffee and biscuits from the refreshment trolley. I had to give myself a little talking to -- Don't be mad now. Look at where you are! Look at what you've done! Look at where you're going! -- why bother being pissy for it? I settled back and enjoyed the Welsh countryside, which is amazing. Even with the rain (or maybe because of it) the hills and fields are lush green, with bright accents of yellow and orange from the changing leaves on the trees. Fat sheep dot the hillsides and scamper along the edges of the train tracks. The villages all look picture-postcard perfect and quaint. Later in my journey, the countryside gave way to craggy cliffs and stunning rocky beaches.
Of course, my train ride couldn't be perfect or easy. About an hour outside of Holyhead, there was a technical failure on the tracks. We were stuck sitting on the tracks without power for about 20 minutes. Meaning that I had to RUN to catch my ferry. I barely made it but I was the last one they let on.
The ferry ride was downright bizarre, but also comfortable (comfy seats, swish bar area, a little shop -- I love a little shop! -- and gambling arena). They randomly played Peter Pan over the closed circuit TVs. Because of the weather and the speed we were going, we got tossed around a great deal. So much so that twice on the journey, cups, plates and various other sundry items slid off the bar, causing a huge clatter and mess. Once I boarded the ferry I got a sandwich because I was starving. I ate it before we departed. Once we got going though, I regretted it. Not that I felt seasick per se, but I didn't feel good either, headachey, mostly. The tossing around was not helping matters.
But I am here, I survived. And as much as an ordeal it was to get here, it was worth it. As we de-boarded the ferry, one of the other passengers, an old pudgy Irishman in a Celtic jersey and wearing a velor tiger-print cowboy hat, began (drunkenly, I suspect) singing "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" and making the funniest, most bizarre jokes. It was all so random and weird, I couldn't help but giggle. I'm taking him as an omen for the crazy fun time I'm going to have while I'm here.
YOU GUYS, I'M IN DUBLIN. HOLY CRAP. I WISH YOU WERE ALL HERE.
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