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Carla's Black Travel Year





I had never heard of a black year till I went on holiday with my sister and her husband, their sons and their friends. One of the the boys of the family friends was having a 'black year' that had apparently stretched into two.
I queried 'what exactly is a black year?' The mum replied sottovoce 'you know when everything is black'. I didn't delve into the details.
Well I am officially having my own black year and it is linked to travel.
It started with a snow storm in Paris in December, a trip to the airport and a cancelled flight to Australia. The following day back to the airport and bingo, flight cancelled again. I finally bought a flight that had no connections in Europe and I got out.
On my return from Australia I raced up to Amsterdam for a job, I was so proud of myself, up and back in the same day, or so I thought.
After my job was finished I shcleped to the station to be greeted with the news that there would be no trains today or tomorrow or the day after. The worst train incident in Belgium in 25 years had just happpened on the tracks between Brussels and Amsterdam. I lugged my gear to a hotel I had to get home the next day as my dearest friends were departing for Australia forever. I googled buses and managed to get myself on a 10 bus ride home the next day, I saw every village between Amsterdam and Paris!
I made it back to Paris for a goodbye glass a champagne. The next morning I helped them with their goods, chattels and children to the airport - all of us in tears.
As I waved my best budies goodbye I headed to the RER to take a train back to the centre of Paris. Bingo, why wasn't I surprised? They were on strike!
I know I am getting into some detail here but man I started to worry. Have some planets collided in my astrological chart? Should I be staying home and cooking, feet up on the sofa?
Well, you can imagine I was really starting to worry especially as I had job the following week in Milan. I set the alarm for 5.40pm instead of am and woke in panic to the sound of the journalist's voice asking 'where the f..k I was?' That has never happened to me in my working life. THe BTY was deepening. We made it to the airport before the gate closed then the plane was delayed. Seemed they could't get the head count to match the baggage count. The journalist was grinding her teeth. I had camera shake all day. By the time we entered Paris late the same day I was developing a new found loathing for short trips in Europe. OF course there was traffic jam from Charles de Gaulle to the Bastille.
My BTY became official all my friends new about it and my architect/astrologer boyfriend checked my astrological chart and low and behold it was a mess. I should just stay put, close the curtains put on the tea and some quiet music and relax.
Of course I didn't, because I had a job I loved booked in Florence. Fashion with Marta. Just arriving at the Easyjet counter at Orly makes you think you are having a BTY even if you aren't. The Italians had formed a clot at the gate even before the plane had arrived. Francesco thanked god for his ipod. We eventually arrive into Pisa two hours late.
Wouldn't you have thought that someone running a bus between Pisa and Florence would have long ago figured out how to sell 61 places on the bus. That would be too easy!
For the unintiated, if you have never tried to get on a bus with an Italian signora I will tell you right now you will never get on the bus before her, her friends, her daughters, their neighbours and the lady that sells pizza. It is a proverbial shit fight in a bath. You really don't want to be involved.
I lived five years in Italy and I know how all this works but sometimes you don't want a knot in your stomach about who in the 90 odd people crowded around the bus are going to get on. Probably not me. The BTY was working against me, after an hour we dragged our bags back to the train station to take the train to Florence.
A week in Florence almost dissolved my travel problems the sun was shining the food was glorious and I was humming. I even started to think the return journey home might be ok. Stupid thought. Of course it wasn't.
I had a computer and a bag full of cameras and that means travel death. The lovely folk at Easyjet, Ryanair, Volareweb etc etc make no allowance anymore for two hand bags even if you have fragile equipement. The travel experience worsens not only do I vow as they order me out of the security line back to the Easyjet counter over to the boss of the airport. It is only when I desolve into tears that they send me back to the Easyjet counter then onto the ticket counter where some finally has pity on me and allows me to pay to take it with me. It doesn't matter how many times I have flown with this airline the thing about low cost is it is also low service, low luggage and you need to have low expecations. Honey, it ain't British Airways.

Instead of being a valued client with all those lovely frequent flyer points I am just another baaaing sheep in the mass movement of people that passes by everyday. I am shaking yet again freaking out that I won't get to the gate on time and that I am in yet at another inconvenient airport if I don't make it. I seem to be shaking way too much lately. This inter Europe cheap travel thing is a hideous experience. I am over it....
I made a vow today if I can travel in Europe on a train I will. I cannot travel to another out of the way airport on the edge of town go through one more security check, take off my belt shoes, empty my pocket take my computer out of its bag and then all of my cameras and place then in a tray and then wait for a plane that is always late.
I made it home.
Anyway my BTY has offically ended because I am staying home!
By the way, the lovely dress at the top is by VALENTINO. x