Volcano update, and a short entry about things from home I miss

First of all -- it looks like my friend Janay will start to head back to Canada tomorrow (and should make it back for her son's first birthday), and thousands of people have been able to make flights today. Hooray... and whew... for the moment.

Second of all -- all of this focus on airplanes, travel, location, and talk of home, as well as the (fingers-crossed) arrival of my mom later this week, has gotten me thinking more about "home" than usual, as well as the things I miss or wish I could have here. They include:

* A few more of my clothes. You might wonder how long it would take to grow weary of four pants, two long sleeve shirts, three short sleeve shirts, two tank tops and a few sweaters. I will tell you... about three months. As of this week, I officially can't stand all of my clothes. I don't even like the kids' clothes! The up side to this is that I am amazed at how good John and I have become at packing light. We can fit everything we need for all five of us to spend four nights away in two carry-on pieces of luggage and two backpacks (and that includes necessary stuffed animals and dolls). When I think of how I used to travel (weighed down) and how I travel now (light and free)... well, it's a pretty great change.

* Some of the things in my own kitchen. It's weird to cook in someone else's kitchen. While parts of a new kitchen are wonderful (I have never used a food processor and now can't imagine not having one... it makes making crusts and bread SO easy), there are other things from home I miss. My big knife. My large red enamel pot which I use for everything from roasting to soups to Rice Krispie bars. My espresso pot. My spices. My own rolling pin. Weird, huh?

* A few more games and puzzles for the kids. While I am so pleased how well they are doing with so few toys, and while we were thrilled to see puzzles and games here in La Maison des Chaumes, there are moments it would be nice to have a few more up our sleeves. I *like* the lack of other toys, for the most part. Things are so nicely uncluttered. The kids make up games with each other and with bits of nature. And the toys they did bring -- Lego, a few ponies, and their favorite stuffies -- are so well loved.

* A few more English language "chapter books" for Jack. We have been BLAZING through books here and  while we were hugely helped by the books in this house, the care packages from Sara and Mom, as well as visiting the "May girls' library" of Lauren, Claudia and Penelope, there have been nights here when we have truly had nothing for Jack to read. So we reread the favorites, or have him read to Kate and Liv. But I think John and I both love snuggling in to take turn reading those chapter books to and with Jack... and having a few more on hand would be nice (or should I say "will be nice", as I think Mom has a few more packed in her luggage if she makes it).

* Bikes. Since the arrival of spring, I have REALLY been missing having bicycles for all of us, and the lovely trails around our house in Lethbridge. We decided we aren't in France quite long enough to merit buying bikes here (plus it's soooooo much hillier), but with this great weather and the lovely lingering sunsets, there have been many moments of wishing we could all take a quick spin on bikes. Soon enough, I suppose.

But what I think we all miss most of all from home are the people (and as much as I love the wine, cheese, bread and market here, I am sure the same will be true when we head back home). I know it will be hard to leave, but we will be able to do so knowing we are going back to good friends and family a drive away. And that is quite a good thing for all of us, I'd say.

Watching, waiting, wondering

Still on Eyjafjallajokull watch here in beautiful Burgundy.

Although some planes made it back to the skies from European airports this morning, many more flights are still canceled. There is news that after a bit of a pause, a bigger eruption (and cloud of ash) is in the works in Iceland. It's such a huge storiy with far reaching implications -- although I am wondering if the news would be even bigger in the U.S. and Canada if the winds were blowing to the west and covering New York and Toronto's airspace instead.

At any rate...I put on my journalist hat for a bit yesterday to help get out the word of the plight of those stuck in Europe (particularly Canadians, who feel they have received little guidance, much less help, from the government). As a result, Janay (my friend who is stranded in London) did interviews with the Globe and Mail, the CBC, and the Calgary Herald. You can read the G&M story here, the CBC story here, and the Calgary Herald story here.

Some of the negative comments are hard to read. Yes -- there are certainly worse places in the world to be stranded, and Europe in the springtime is, I can fully attest, quite lovely. But the people who are stranded can't really just go and sit in cafes and wait for the wind to change. They might not have enough money left to do that, for one thing (hotels are raising their rates each night). Some are running out of their medication as well as their money. Others are missing family events, work deadline, weddings, funerals, and more. And instead of being able to take advantage of an unexpected extra week in Europe, most are tied to phones and computers trying to reschedule, replan, rebook, and reorganize as they search for ways home.

And the financial implications go far beyond the airlines (although truly they are suffering, too). But Laura, our wonderful landlady, wrote about the hundreds of little business people like her who are losing bookings -- and their income -- because of the ash. If my mom isn't able to make her flight over on Saturday night, we will not be heading to the Loire -- so that means two hotels, a half-dozen restaurants, four chateaux, and countless cute little shops won't be getting our business. Even John's aunt in a tiny town in Montana is feeling the effects... they had a bowling championship playoff canceled because some people on one team had travelled to Germany and have not been able to come home yet. That means lost food, lodging, and other business for one small Montana town, too. Scenes like this are playing out in villages, towns, and cities throughout Europe and -- because the globe has become so much smaller as a result of air travel -- throughout the world.

Many people are struggling through this, and I think it will take quite a long time for things to settle down, even if the volcano quiets tomorrow. (And in the meantime, if you are in Europe and looking for a terrific place to stay -- contact Laura! Her rentals are wonderful!)

A friend of mine here in Burgundy just sent me a very thoughtful essay about this whole experience. It's worth reading the whole thing, but I especially liked the conclusion:

It is commonplace to acknowledge that people so often only grasp the full value of something when they lose it ... but the events of the past few days remind us how it is true. Well, some of us have for a while at least lost the ability to get home. And all of us right across Europe have lost air travel for the time being. So when that comes back, let's try and use that wonderful freedom more thoughtfully, sensibly and wisely.

And with that thought...fingers are crossed here for a safe and available flight for my mom and Sharon on Saturday, too... and that all of those stranded here will soon be able to make their way home.

GUEST BLOG: Mr. Harper, please take notice!

My friend Janay-- the one struck in London who is trying to get home for her son's first birthday -- just posted a persuasive call to action for the Canadian government to respond to those trapped abroad because of the volcano. It was so well-written and moving, I asked if I could post it here. She said yes -- especially if it might somehow help get her (and others like her) home.

By Janay Nugent-Moulton  

I was at the high Commission of Canada this morning and there were close to 200 with me (I have great photos, but can't get them off of my camera). It doesn't sound like hardship to be trapped in London, but there are real reasons people need help. I spoke to people who are running out of medications, one was insulin dependent and another had run out of her blood pressure medication (I'm sure she won't need that right now!). Currently there is absolutely no support for us. The people at the High Commission were quite gracious and sympathetic, but they can do little without Ottawa's approval. As of this morning (5 days after this all started), the federal government didn't even have a note of direction to Canadians on their main website. Our plight (and this is that of thousands, and probably tens of thousands of Canadians) has not even seemed to really grab the attention of Canadian media.

We have been patient and quiet Canadians, but it is important that people realize the hardships that are happening here. One couple I spoke to this morning stood in line to renew their hotel reservations and the prices of the room rose with each person in front of them, 119GBP, 129GBP and then 159GBP by the time it came to them. A young family I spoke to is virtually out of money, they have used up all of their vacation time and are almost out of sick days - so they face losing their wages from work as well as paying all of the expenses piling up here. Another person I spoke to called Aeroplan to book the hotel on their points and the hotel charged them 500GBP to make the call. Many people are running out of money and don't have options. Where will they sleep and what will they eat? I spoke to a retired man who was terrified by the prospect of trying to stay off of the streets. There was another woman who was trying to get to her father's deathbed and others who wanted to make a sister's wedding and a grandchild's baptism. I am desperate to make it home for my son's first birthday and my 3 1/2 year old just doesn't understand why I don't walk home or take a boat. The reality is that it is incredibly difficult to get out of Europe or to know what to do.

Should we stay put in the UK and hope that once Heathrow, the major airport gets going we will have some hope of getting home? Or should we undertake our own Amazing Race? There are many stories of people paying cabs to drive across entire countries, buying bikes just to get on ferries as commuters, buying cars to drive to the Mediterranean and catch cruises to places where you can fly from. It currently takes days and hundred (usually thousands) of dollars to take public transit to places where there are flights like Lisbon and Madrid. But this is not feasible for many people financially, and many others who are travelling in Europe for only the first or second time do not have the travel literacy to make it across multiple countries, in many languages, with many forms of transportation. And this all comes at a risk anyhow, after you have spent hours (probably days) and untold financial resources getting to a southern city, will there be a flight for you? how much will it cost? Will the airport be shut down because the ash cloud has moved?

The Canadian Government needs to give us some direction, and they need to help us find a way out. At the high Commission today there was a very concrete solution offered which got huge applause - charter buses from around Europe to take us to Madrid and fly a Canadian armed forces transport plane to take us home. The ability is certainly there, but there needs to be a will. I ask that the media and government take notice (if you could contact your MP or local media that would help) and help us out. And please do it soon before personal hardships become financial, medical and familial tragedies - and before the cloud gets bigger and our window of opportunity closes.

Janay Nugent-Moulton is a professor of history at the University of Lethbridge. She can be reached by contacting me or by joining the Facebook group "Canadians Abroad Trapped by Volcanic Ash". Reprinted with permission of the author.

I want my mom (to be able to make her flight to France)!

We are watching the volcano drama unfold closely. It appears our family friends Kathy and Alex made it out on one of the last planes to leave France on Thursday, just before they put the air space restrictions into place. Quelle chance! Now I am hoping for the winds of change to arrive in time for my mom's flight on Saturday night. She is calm about it and hopes the flight will still happen (although she acknowledges that it might not), so I am trying to be, too.

But it's hard -- because I *really* REALLY want her to be able to come. We have been talking about her trip here for so long, plotting, planning, dreaming, and exchanging countless emails. I have our hotels in the Loire booked (one former abbey, one former petite chateau), I know which days we will go to market, I know just which walks and restaurants and shops I want to take her to, and John has a great rental van booked well in advance.  The kids are SO excited to see her, too. I know it will not be the end of the world if she is not able to come...but oh, I hope she can.

And I'm not the only one sending all of my energy to the skies, hoping for a shift of the winds. We have several friends on both sides of the Atlantic who have already been caught in the travel nightmare. One friend from Lethbridge came to Oxford to give a paper... and now is worried she won't make it home for her son's first birthday. Another friend from Burgundy took her kids to Calgary for les vacances scolaire and now won't be heading back for at least nine more days. Other Lethbridge friends flew to England for her father's birthday... and haven't been able to get through to the airline for days to even ask about when or how they might be able to reschedule. All of these people are missing school, work, family, milestones and more. And these are just the people I know... there are hundreds of thousands of others with stories like this around the world. Kind of mind-boggling, isn't it?

When I read about how this volcano has, in the past, spent more than a year spewing its ash and steam, it also made me wonder what would happen if Europe remains a no-fly zone for a longer term. How would we get home if the volcano is still active in June and the prevailing winds are still, well, prevailing? Would we try to catch a ship back to North America? Drive to Portugal and leave from there? Since our big return is still two months off, I haven't spent a *lot* of time dwelling on this (in fact, I have been madly using my internet travel agent skills to search for the friend trying to get home in time for her son's birthday -- this morning I found a train to Rome and flight to Toronto for her next week if she can wait that long)... but the thought has started to cross my mind.

I have spent a bit more time thinking about how reliant we are on air travel for more than moving tourists and business people. One article I read mentioned that injured U.S. soldiers are being sent straight to Andrews AFB in the U.S., instead of being taken to a base in Germany. That one change involves so many people and places... and there are thousands of similar changes that must be made in the midst of this natural crisis. And what about the mail? What about the fruit, the food, the clothes, the cargo that are regularly shipped from one part of the world to another?

The only silver lining in this ash cloud that I have seen is that it's a natural phenomenon, not man made. There is no one to be angry at. It just *is*. So all you can do (at least all I am trying to do) is shrug your mental shoulders on all of the uncertainty, in that French way. And all you can say is on verra (we'll see).

Well, you can also wish wildly, pray passionately, hope whole-heartedly (and when needed, check out this handy New York Times site of open and closed airports). It might not be as French of a response... but it certainly can't hurt either.