One way ticket?

Of my last weeks in Glasgow, I spent the first half stuck at the dorms because of stricter covid measures and the second half stuck at the dorms because of exams. The cabin fever, with which we have all become well-acquainted over the past year, was for me as well as my flatmates, undoubtedly along with countless other people, only softened by the promise of a great winter vacation spent with friends and family at home. We completed our last online examinations, my flatmates set out on their travels and I was left practically counting down the hours until I, too, would take off.

The British covid variant seemed to have other plans for me. A day before my flight, the Netherlands announced a cancellation of flights coming from the UK, including my trip via Amsterdam. I quickly booked another flight for December 21st, this time through London, which was canceled only hours before takeoff when Czechia, along with most other European countries, put an end to air travel from the UK. I searched for other flights home as they disappeared before my eyes, and land travel wasn’t an option either since the Channel Tunnel was closed and packed with kilometers of stuck trucks. Nor was anything known yet of the repatriation flights that took place later that month.

I had already begun to accept that I’d be spending Christmas yet again stuck at the dorms, which were by then nearly deserted, when I got a tip that people I knew were trying to fly from London through Malaga on the 23rd. Under the circumstances, it was a risky but solid plan: Spain did not allow non-Spanish travelers from the UK in, but transiting isn’t considered entering the country, and Czechia only canceled direct flights from the UK. Technically speaking, we could pull it off. I even had the luck of finding a flight to Malaga directly from Glasgow’s cute little airport.

So the evening of the 22nd, I hastily booked my third tickes for nearly-sold out seats and re-packed the bags I had already unpacked in resignation earlier that day. Next day in the morning, I headed to the airport, passed through the security checks, and was only waiting in line to board the airport when I got a call that my friends in London weren’t allowed on the plane. My knees started shaking and much consolation didn’t come from noticing how everyone around me was presenting Spanish citizenships and negative covid tests – I had neither.

In the end I was lucky that they only wanted confirmation of my transfer flight from Malaga, and so I got on the plane and flew towards my deserved vacation. On the morning of Christmas Eve I got home, but I’ve been here for over two months and in spite of the second semester starting, the vacation doesn’t quite seem to be ending. Due to the Scottish government’s guidance, students abroad are (subject to certain exceptions) not allowed back until April at least. I wouldn’t have guessed that I’d be spending this much of my first year in Glasgow at home, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here, but at least I learned that the third time really is the charm J.