“This train is for Cockfosters”
London calling. Hello?
I've finally made it out of Frankfurt, arriving in London this afternoon. After wisely getting a week "Oyster Pass" for train-bus transport (£24), the first thing of amusement I see is the Underground train from Heathrow on the Piccadilly line, which proudly announces in a repeating digital message, "This train is for Cockfosters."
It took me a bit to figure out that "Cockfosters" was the name of the station at the end of the line-- but not before I've decided that "cockfoster" is my new favorite insult.
My sleep accommodations were reserved the night before: Palmer's Lodge, a new hostel, with high references. It turns out to be conveniently located, not too far from the City center, on the Jubilee line -- in a nicely updated Victorian residence. I'm sitting in a leather chair in the hostel's lounge, surfing on the free Wifi, and watching The Godfather on the flat panel. What could be better?
All’s well on the luggage front
I was supposed to be in London on Friday, but due to the mild problem of not having any luggage, I rescheduled (for an additional $100) to fly on Tuesday. Leastwise I'll be flying Lufthansa. Say what you will about the Germans; at least you can take it for granted that your bags will arrive with you. Note to self: is there anyway to avoid a Shoah reference here?
So yesterday, after a near-sleepless night when I was awoke convinced all was lost, and that I'd have to take it to the mattresses with British Airways, I schlepped out to the airport again. ('Cause there's no getting through to them by phone.) And back to see Frau "Bru Baker" (that's what it said on her name tag) at the stalwart luggage desk, who informed me that, yes, my bags have been located, and will be delivered forthwith! After a bit of a run-around, one showed up in later that day -- the big one full of electronics, with all contents intact. And thus, there was much rejoicing, with some mild wringing of hands over the second, yet-to-be-delivered one. That one, containing clothes and other essentials showed up this afternoon, after I spent the day breezing through some of Frankfurt's abundant museums.
On that topic, finally a bit of practical touristy advice: Frankfurt has a lot of museums -- 26 in fact-- which for the most part, are located near each other, along the Main river. Get a Two Day Museum Pass at the Tourist Office, and you can visit them all..for a mere 12 euros ($15 or so), 6 euros for students (or those who still carry their student IDs to seem much younger than they are). As compared to 6-8 euros entrance fee at just one museum, this is an must-have value for frugal travellers.
The Big Update
A lesson in travel hubris
The story so far:
Two months ago. I start planning a trip to Riga, Latvia, where I was born. Off-and-on, for the past number of years, I had been videoing the memories of my great-aunt-once-removed (or something of that familial linkage). She is going to be summering in Latvia-- and so I decide that for the documentary project, I need footage on location, from the places that she remembered. And since I am going to be in Europe anyway, I also want to stop off at some other places: Frankfurt, where I have an uncle and cousin with new baby boy; and London, where I'd never been, but had been wanting to visit forever.
I check the usual travel sites for good deals, trying every combination of multi-city and open-jawed (to use the industry parlance) routes, to come up with a way to go to all three places on the cheap. After weeks of near-daily Travelocity-Expedia-Kayak searches I come upon a solution: flying from the UK turns out to be the most convenient, so I book my plane through to London (United, $900), from there, taking a round-trip to Latvia (KLM, $200) and then yet another roundtrip to Frankfurt (British Airways & Lufthansa, $200). In all, the tickets came in at about what a direct flight to Riga alone would cost. Sure, I was going to be seeing a lot of airports and planes, but it would be worth it, to be able to get a week lay-over in London before my flight back home... or so I thought.
So, I go on a spending-spree for those particular travel necessities like new baggage (five bags/packs/satchels of various types purchased before settling on three) and shoes (three pairs bought, one taken) and of course, travel-sized toiletries (they're cute, because they're tiny.)
And so I wait
Back to Friday, August 11:
In times of national crisis, when bureaucracy grinds normal operations to a halt, patient waiting seems to be the only recourse. Or at least that's what I tell myself while I wonder if I didn't make a big mistake flying today. And so, after sitting on the ground in London, we finally push off at around 11, getting in somewhere after 1am Frankfurt time. Except for my bags, which apparently don't make it.
Nor do they arrive the next day, or the next. And here, going on five days later, they have yet to show up. I was bright enough to get a baggage trace ordered immediately, which has resulted in the following helpful information from WorldTrace.aero, "TRACING CONTINUES. PLEASE CHECK BACK LATER." Repeated frantic calls get only busy signals, which we later find out, after a trip back to the airport, are due to the phones being taken off the hook. Calls to British Airways in London lead nowhere. Multiple emails are not replied to. Finally, I discover an email address for the British Airways employee responsible for baggage claims. This one gets a response telling me that my bags will arrive "during the next days"... which apparently is code for "after the Apocalypse".
Most lovely was this disclaimer, "British Airways is not liable for any damage or loss of electrical/electronical items, valuable,fragile or perishable items in the checked in luggage, although no handluggage was allowed, due to the fact that it was a government order."
Translation: Sorry, if we lost your stuff, but it ain't our problem. We were just doing what we were told.