Well, what a wacky couple of weeks it’s been.
It began March 30th when we flew to Washington DC to visit my parents. My parents recently moved to a retirement home so we are no longer able to stay in their house. So we landed on the doorsteps of a couple of different sets of friends who took us in kindly.
And then had to take us in again when we were not able to fly back home to London.
In one house it became the Volcano Refugee Slumber Party as another person who couldn’t get back to Kenya joined the group.
We have now moved over to yet another house of friends who have kindly offered to let us stay. The earliest date Virgin Airlines have given us to fly back is April 29th.
I have been amazed at my friends’ hospitality and it got me thinking about my own. Would I have been so generous? So I turned around and offered our house to a friend who is stranded in London and who can’t back to Shanghai.
I have heard through the grapevine that some of the children in my kids’ school are stuck in Mexico City, Goa, Zimbabwe, Kenya. As the school administrator remarked dryly. “All the teachers are here. No money to go away.”
As of now the skies above London have just reopened. Not a moment too soon. People are running out of money. They are stuck in strange places. I read about one man who paid a taxi driver 2000 pounds to drive him to France so he could hop on a ferry. He said it was worth every penny.
We considered taking a boat across the Atlantic but at $1500 a person it seemed a bit steep. And anyway, it was sold out.
We take global travel for granted. Until it stops.
But friends’ hospitality, thankfully, you can depend on.