The journey began significantly earlier than the morning alarm today. Back in October, I had booked tickets with Air Baltic to Marrakech for a long weekend in the midst of winter. A month later, Air Baltic informed us that they had canceled our return flight. So, we rescheduled the flight a week earlier. A week later, that flight was canceled too. We rescheduled once more, a week earlier. Then we didn't make any more preparations for the trip until less than two weeks were left until the return flight. It was then that we could hope they wouldn't cancel it anymore.
And so, the sixth of January arrived. We arrived at the airport an hour before our scheduled flight only to find out that our plane hadn't even departed from Riga. Watching the flight radar, it was clear the pilot was a bit confused - moving away from the gate, then back, then queuing for the runway, then back again. Finally, it arrived in Tallinn at about the time we were supposed to land in Riga. We boarded the plane, boarding was completed, de-icing was done, and then we were waiting at the gate. And waiting. And waiting. We took off roughly around the time our flight to Marrakesh was supposed to depart from Riga.
Upon landing in Riga, the first thing I checked was the Marrakesh flight, and since the plane was still at the gate, there was hope they would wait. But no such luck. Border control didn't let us through, so we walked to the transfer center. In the meantime, Air Baltic kindly informed us they found a suitable alternative for us to reach Morocco. According to them, it was a great idea to fly us to Helsinki, then to Paris, and then to Morocco. Both of us got a five-euro voucher to buy candy from the newsstand. The voucher wasn't accepted anywhere else.
Finnair announced that due to weather conditions, the toilets on the Helsinki flight weren't working and kindly requested dear passengers to use the facilities at the terminal. I went twice just in case because, you know, if you can't, you'll definitely need to.
A few hours later, instead of sunny Marrakech, we landed in snowy Helsinki. The moment we entered the terminal, there was already an announcement that the Paris flight was delayed. Well, in any case, I'd rather spend the night in Paris than in Riga in my summer clothes. Clearly, we were dressed for Parisian summers while flying to Morocco. At least I had time to recharge my phone. I also took the chance to visit the recently opened used clothing store at Helsinki airport. If anyone wants a dress for 350 euros or a skirt for 135 euros, that store is right across from the Moomin house. Boarding passes for the Paris flight were checked visually because neither the self-service gates nor the scanners were working. Proper old-school stuff. On the plane I got some blueberry juice, and before we knew it, we had landed. Deboarding took about 20 minutes because everyone on board had baggage that required a smaller forklift to move.
Paris airport is logical and welcoming as always... Or not. Anyway, the information desk directed us through the public area to Terminal 2F, meaning we covered about 3 kilometers in a speed, which would have left Usain Bolt far behind. After the security check, when we thought gates were imminent and we could relax a bit, turns out, nothing of the sort. When we reached the passport control, I received a message from Air France that our boarding was about to close, and they wished us an enjoyable trip. At that point, we had no idea if the gate was around the next turn or if we still had a Tallinn-Mäo stretch ahead of us. Anyway, we ran. As a side note, it wasn't exactly Mäo, but more like Ardu, but we managed.
We sweated our way to the gate, the scanner lady asking if anyone is still behind us... How can they be when we were racing like our lives depended on it? Not every tourist busts a move like that.
We boarded the plane and... it was utterly deserted. Initially, I only spotted one passenger. Turns out, we were soaring on an empty aircraft with about 20 passengers. Private jet vibes, kinda.
Moroccan passport control had learned from U.S. immigration - after a lengthy interview, we had to show our passport and stamp again, not even 10 steps after the control booth. We had transport arranged, but since I had to reschedule it from 3 o'clock to 11 o'clock, which only Aziz from the office was aware of, not Mohammed, the on-site car allocator. Anyway, the Mohammed was pretty miffed, stating we'd disrupted his otherwise smooth operation.
We hit the bed at around two.
And so, the sixth of January arrived. We arrived at the airport an hour before our scheduled flight only to find out that our plane hadn't even departed from Riga. Watching the flight radar, it was clear the pilot was a bit confused - moving away from the gate, then back, then queuing for the runway, then back again. Finally, it arrived in Tallinn at about the time we were supposed to land in Riga. We boarded the plane, boarding was completed, de-icing was done, and then we were waiting at the gate. And waiting. And waiting. We took off roughly around the time our flight to Marrakesh was supposed to depart from Riga.
Upon landing in Riga, the first thing I checked was the Marrakesh flight, and since the plane was still at the gate, there was hope they would wait. But no such luck. Border control didn't let us through, so we walked to the transfer center. In the meantime, Air Baltic kindly informed us they found a suitable alternative for us to reach Morocco. According to them, it was a great idea to fly us to Helsinki, then to Paris, and then to Morocco. Both of us got a five-euro voucher to buy candy from the newsstand. The voucher wasn't accepted anywhere else.
Finnair announced that due to weather conditions, the toilets on the Helsinki flight weren't working and kindly requested dear passengers to use the facilities at the terminal. I went twice just in case because, you know, if you can't, you'll definitely need to.
A few hours later, instead of sunny Marrakech, we landed in snowy Helsinki. The moment we entered the terminal, there was already an announcement that the Paris flight was delayed. Well, in any case, I'd rather spend the night in Paris than in Riga in my summer clothes. Clearly, we were dressed for Parisian summers while flying to Morocco. At least I had time to recharge my phone. I also took the chance to visit the recently opened used clothing store at Helsinki airport. If anyone wants a dress for 350 euros or a skirt for 135 euros, that store is right across from the Moomin house. Boarding passes for the Paris flight were checked visually because neither the self-service gates nor the scanners were working. Proper old-school stuff. On the plane I got some blueberry juice, and before we knew it, we had landed. Deboarding took about 20 minutes because everyone on board had baggage that required a smaller forklift to move.
Paris airport is logical and welcoming as always... Or not. Anyway, the information desk directed us through the public area to Terminal 2F, meaning we covered about 3 kilometers in a speed, which would have left Usain Bolt far behind. After the security check, when we thought gates were imminent and we could relax a bit, turns out, nothing of the sort. When we reached the passport control, I received a message from Air France that our boarding was about to close, and they wished us an enjoyable trip. At that point, we had no idea if the gate was around the next turn or if we still had a Tallinn-Mäo stretch ahead of us. Anyway, we ran. As a side note, it wasn't exactly Mäo, but more like Ardu, but we managed.
We sweated our way to the gate, the scanner lady asking if anyone is still behind us... How can they be when we were racing like our lives depended on it? Not every tourist busts a move like that.
We boarded the plane and... it was utterly deserted. Initially, I only spotted one passenger. Turns out, we were soaring on an empty aircraft with about 20 passengers. Private jet vibes, kinda.
Moroccan passport control had learned from U.S. immigration - after a lengthy interview, we had to show our passport and stamp again, not even 10 steps after the control booth. We had transport arranged, but since I had to reschedule it from 3 o'clock to 11 o'clock, which only Aziz from the office was aware of, not Mohammed, the on-site car allocator. Anyway, the Mohammed was pretty miffed, stating we'd disrupted his otherwise smooth operation.
We hit the bed at around two.
Kommentaare ei ole:
Postita kommentaar