Osterferien, Part I: Harrying Hamburg

Now that I have food, I am substantially less enthused to post. But post I shall, and I would say that I'd bribe myself with a Mandelhoernchen at the end, but that won't work, seeing as I've already eaten it.

The start of Maryle's and my romping two-and-a-half-week adventure was pretty much the worst part of our trip. In fact, it was even before we left Celle. Why, you ask? Guess whose Bahnhof is under construction even as I type? That's right; good ol' Celle's. This alone was not too much of a problem, though some of the bus lines had been re-routed because of this. It was a problem, though, when the train to Hamburg completely bypassed the Bahnhof because the track was closed.

Well, shit.

Since we needed to be at the Hamburg airport later in the evening (and it takes roughly two and a half hours to get there by train), Maryle and I were a bit, er, miffed that the train did not come. In a stroke of genius, however, Maryle suggested that we take the train to Hannover and then take the IC, a more expensive train, to Hamburg. So, that is what we ended up doing, rushing madly to the platform at Hannover and discovering that there was another train delay, breathlessly laughing almost hysterically at our predicament, and finally making it to the airport.

Yeah, Easy Jet? Never on time. And this isn't the only time that will pop up.

Still, we were simply relieved to be at the airport and at our gate in time, despite the one-hour delay. The flight itself passed without comment, and we were content to have landed at Gatwick, with the hopes of meeting my relatives with no more problems. As we tiredly wobbled to the customs desk, we had to backtrack a bit because we realized that we actually weren't considered members of the EU and were, in fact, Americans (I love how it's divided up into "EU" and "The Rest of the World"). We were then requested to fill out cards detailing our reasons for our say in the UK, but there was one, tiny problem: I had not been provided my relatives' address. After the reassurance from a fellow traveler that it didn't particularly matter if we jotted down an address or not, both Maryle and I approached two different customs desks. Maryle had the unfortunate luck of getting the obligatory Customs Bitch, who chewed her out for a good couple of minutes for "not knowing where she was staying."

HERE'S YOUR ADDRESS, CUSTOMS BITCH.

After that icing on the wow-this-day-sucked cake, we were very enthusiastically greeted by two of my now-favorite English people ever: my relatives, Marion and James. And, you know what? It made everything completely worth it. I was about to discover their hospitality and their inclusion of both Maryle and me into their family for a few days, which were the best few days that I have had in awhile...and definitely the best part of the trip for me.

Why, you eagerly ask as you grip the arms of your chair (stop that; chairs have feelings, t--no, they don't)? Stay tuned for more (in roughly half an hour)!