Expat Life: Our terrible, awful, really bad day

You’ve read our sunny, cheerful blog posts about us visiting cool places and having wonderful experiences. They’re all true, but as much as we travel, it’s inevitable that once in a while a horrible day sneaks in there.

Like our recent travel day from Guayaquil, Ecuador to Medellín, Colombia.

It didn’t start off that badly. Except we’re not in the habit of getting up at six in the morning. We’d arrived in Guayaquil the night before from Cuenca, enjoyed a good (although short) night’s sleep, and had an uneventful ride to the airport.

For some reason we couldn’t check in online for our flight the day before. When we arrived at the Avianca counter we found out why.

“Can I see your tickets for leaving Colombia?” the agent asked.

“They’re not booked yet. We haven’t finalized plans with our family to visit during Christmas.”

“You both have to show a ticket to board this flight.”

“What are you talking about? We’ve been traveling full time for the last two years and no one has ever asked us for this. We have to get on this flight, and you need to find a way to make it happen.”

After calling someone she said, “You can fly to Colombia, but if they ask you for a ticket and you don’t have one, you won’t be able to enter the country.”

Well, that wasn’t great news, but we’re resourceful people. We went to the lounge for breakfast and quickly booked refundable one-way tickets to Miami for a random date just in case. Then we noticed on the monitor that our takeoff was delayed 10 minutes.

That’s when things really started going downhill.

Normally a short delay would be no problem. But our connection in Bogota was tight to begin with. An hour and ten minutes. Now it was down to an hour, which included going through Immigration and Customs, and getting to the gate of our next flight.

In an airport we knew nothing about.

We used to love flying with Avianca. They were always on time. Service was top-notch. And observing a group of flight attendants parading through the concourse in their long red capes and pillbox hats was a sight to behold.

All of that seems to have gone out the window. After the hassle with the counter agent, the flight ended up leaving 30 minutes late.

“Avianca knows the situation. There are probably a lot of passengers on this plane also flying to Medellín. Surely they’ll hold the flight until we all get there,” we told ourselves.

We rushed from our gate in Bogota a l-o-n-g way to Immigration. The line wasn’t short, and no one seemed to care that we were in a major hurry. As it turned out, the Immigration officer didn’t ask to see our just-purchased tickets. Instead she wanted to know the address of where we were staying during our visit.

Really? Didn’t see that one coming. After fumbling through the phone to retrieve the information, we next hustled to Customs, which fortunately was quick. We still had a chance.

Except another delay. Now we had to go through Security. (Sigh)

Our cause was looking increasingly hopeless, but we were clinging to the thin hope that because everyone else on our previous flight heading to Medellín was in the same predicament, the next plane would still be there.

But here’s what we didn’t know. Bogota’s airport is really big, and the signage is confusing. For the life of us we couldn’t figure out where our gate was.

We were totally frustrated and trying so hard to make this flight. Although staying optimistic until the end, when we finally got to the gate the plane was gone.

OK, take a breath. Regroup. “It’s a travel day,” we told ourselves. “It doesn’t matter when we get there. Let’s go find someplace to book the next flight to Medellín.”

Easier said than done. Did we mention the signage in this airport is terrible? We went here. We went there. We went everywhere. Finally someone told us the correct location (the first area we passed on because it was vaguely labeled “Other Services” 😕).

The rebooking went so smoothly that we suspected this situation is a daily occurrence. We’d be leaving in a couple of hours, which allowed us to unwind in a really nice lounge with some food and a few glasses of wine. Gracias, Priority Pass.

Our plane boarded on time, then proceeded to sit on the tarmac for close to an hour before taking off. Why? In Latin America, who ever really knows? This day had been going on so long that it was starting to matter when we got there. Or if we would ever get there.

We were originally supposed to arrive at our destination around two in the afternoon. The plane landed at 7 p.m. We called for an Uber ride to our apartment. The driver was there in no time, but where exactly was he? Oh, he’s upstairs and we’re downstairs. (Double Sigh)

We finally found each other and were on our way. In a blinding rainstorm and brutal traffic. The projected 25-minute ride takes an hour, he has to call our host because he can't find the apartment, and we’re beyond done.

Except we are also starving. Of course, there’s no food. It’s dark. It’s still raining. And we have no idea where we are.

Thank goodness our host is an angel and lives next door. She brought over some takeout menus, ordered the pizza we selected, and paid for it until we could get to an ATM and put some pesos in our pocket.

The pizza takes an hour and a half to arrive, but by this point we’re thankful for something to kinda/sorta go right. After eating we fall into bed exhausted, and so ends our terrible, awful, really bad day.