Watching: Series 3 of ER – yes, I know, incredibly daggy. But, my previous belief that decent television didn’t exist before Lost has been dashed.

Reading: True History of the Kelly Gang by Peter Carey. Taking a break from Sci Fi.

Doing: Knitting another beanie. The last one was too small. Planning my June travels (April and May travels are – fingers crossed – taken care of). Booking my flight back to Australia. Praying I receive the $900 financial stimulus payment to pay for said flight back to Australia.

Semana Santa in Sevilla, Spain.

How wicked does this look?

Collections of Spanish Catholics running around in KKK style hoods of multiple colours, displays of religiosity and bizarre costumes; it’s everything I want in a bizarre festival. I found out I had the time free to go. I booked the flights. I booked the accomodation. Sure, it was going to be expensive, but hey, it was going to be worth it. Plus, I could check out Andalucia, one of the coolest parts of Spain, with all it’s medieval Islamic heritage going on.

Instead, I’m sitting here fiddling with my computer, watching old episodes of ER and knitting a beanie.

Why I didn’t go is a comedy of errors.

1. January. Excited. Find out about Semana Santa (holy week) in Spain. Decide on tourist magnet Sevilla. Book ludicrously expensive flights, but decide it’s worth it. Book Anzac Day trips, including a Gallipoli day tour that starts on the 22nd of April.

2. February. Okay. Find out on a trip to Barcelona that despite being in the Schengen area, Spain actually likes to see your passport when you cross their border. It’s fine, as I have mine on me for once.

3. 19th March. Unease. Apply for Syrian visa in Paris. Expect it back in 10 working days, giving me a week long window before the Seville trip.  Only, lady who takes my application says that, as I’m not a French citizen, processing should take one month.

4. 20th March. Panic. Passport won’t be back in time for Seville trip: will have to cancel. May not even be back in time to get to Turkey for Gallipoli. Hell, I’d have to stay in France until it returns. Investigate refund process for Ryanair and Vueling, the two companies I was going to fly with to go to Seville – maybe I can work in a trip to Pamplona for the running of the bulls?

5. Early April. Anguish. No idea when Passport returning. All travel plans in jeopardy. The thought of staying in my bedroom at Lille, doing and achieving nothing more than knitting beanies and watching downloads for weeks after my contract finishes is disturbing.

6. Slightly less early April. Elation. Despite visa-lady’s dire predictions, my passport arrives. They didn’t use the Registered Post envelope I’d paid for, but doesn’t matter, I’m happy. Seville trip back on. Gallipoli trip no problems. Ring and email everybody. Stress over. On the 9th of April, at 9am, I am flying out of Charleroi airport, one and a bit hours to the east of Lille, for Seville.

7. 8th April, 8pm. Night before leaving for Seville. Excited. I check the train timetables again to find out what time I have to set my alarm in the morning. I check in online to Ryanair flight, ask landlord if I can borrow his printer.

8. 8th April 8:05pm. Alarm. The earliest train from Lille to Charleroi gets me to the airport 5 minutes after the gate closes. Checked in or not checked in, Ryanair waits for noone. Surely there’s another option.

9. 8th April 8:15pm. Hope. If I can get to Belgium early in the morning, there are Belgian trains to Charleroi which arrive an hour before I have to be there.

10. 8th April 8:35pm. Despair. There is no possible way to get to Belgium any earlier, by train, tram, bus or walking. Keep looking. Try everything: buses to border villages where I can walk across; metro lines; tram lines; Eurolines buses; Eurostar and Thalys trains to Brussels so I can turn around and come back down to Charleroi.

11. 8th April 8:50pm. Hope. If I get to Belgium now, I can sleep overnight in Belgium. Try calling Caro to see if I can sleep there, but then I remember she and her family are on Easter holidays. That’s fine, I can sleep in a Belgian train station – or if there’s the trains there this late, sleep overnight at the airport – done it before. According to Deutsch Bahn (standard website for checking train schedules) there’s a train to Belgium, departing Lille Flandres, at 22h09! Go!

12. 8th April 9:25pm. Urgent. Quickly packed bag, fiddled with computer and landlord’s printer to print boarding pass, grabbed tomorrow’s lunch and my ’sleeping bag’, run to metro station to get to Lille Flandres (train station).

13. 8th April 9:40pm. Despair. There is no train to Belgium. There are no trains at all going anywhere near Belgium at 22h09. SCNF (French rail system) has thwarted me again: it must have been cancelled. Or maybe there’s a strike. Run to Lille Europe (other big train station in Lille) to make sure I didn’t go to the wrong station. Nope. Check timetables on bus shelters near train stations to check there are no buses running to the border towns this late.

14. 8th April 10:30pm. Exhausted. Arrive back home. Check website. Yep, I wasn’t wrong, there was supposed to be a train at 22h09. Half heartedly start looking for alternatives.

15. 8th April 11:30pm. Resigned. Just as I was about to give up and go to bed and risk the train that would get me there at 5 minutes after the gate closed, I found out that the bus connection between Charleroi Sud and Charleroi airport would actually get me there just as the plane is taxi-ing onto the runway. I didn’t want to be like this lady:

Decide there’s no hope.

16. 8th April 11:35pm. Really fucking tired. Hey, the metro runs pretty late, right? Find a way to get there: involves running back to the metro, taking the last train to C.H. Dron (the end of the line), arriving around 1am. Walking for an hour, across the border to the Mouscron train station, which will be closed, taking a path I’m unfamiliar with, in the dark. Waiting outside, until 4am for the first trains of the day, get to Tournai a little later, and arrive at Charleroi around 6am in the morning. Wait till 8am to check in. Fly out at 9. This was to be followed by a two hour flight and 6 hours on a bus (it was hard getting flights to Seville so I had to fly to Madrid instead). No chance for sleep until arrive in Seville Thursday evening.

17. 8th April 11:36pm. Resigned. Decide the metro-walk-to-Mouscron-plan is insane. It’s clear I’m not going.

So Thursday morning I slept in, got up, and started some serious hard core travel planning. So far, I’m intending to make use of the $300 Vueling flight I’m not taking on Monday morning by planning a Seville trip after my Prague/Krakow/Ljubljana trip in June; but I’ve still lost a mass of money. And I’m very very bummed about missing Semana Santa.

The funny thing is: when I booked the flights in January, I vaguely remember being aware of the Charleroi airport access issue for a 9am flight; I had intended to stay with Caro the night before (of course, I would have changed this to staying at the airport when I knew she’d planned to go on an Easter trip); but because of the hassle with the Syrian embassy holding onto my passport, I had totally forgotten that small detail. Sure! leaving at 5:30 to get to a 9am flight was no issue – there just weren’t any trains to get there on time! So that’s why I’m sitting in my room, finalising my June travel plans instead of checking out the Granada Alhambra, or taking photos of nutters in blue hoods. Bummer.
But all is not bad: it is possible to visit Sevilla later, after the June trip; though I can’t decide between two things: should I go to the Running of the Bulls festival in Pamplona (to make up for missing out on this festival), and coming home to Australia later; or should I forget it and come home a week earlier. Ideas?