When we woke up Saturday morning, there were still no answers. No one could yet predict the absolute havoc that would be caused by the Iceland volcano.
Despite the uncertainty, it was a beautiful morning for the religious part of the wedding ceremony – the ceremony that was the most important to Cara and her groom. The spring air was crisp and cool as we walked towards the temple and even the volcano couldn’t damper the excitement and anticipation in the air.
Afterwards, there was a frenzy of picture taking before family and friends began the journey back to Italy. I stayed with Cara and her husband as they tried to figure out how to salvage their honeymoon, and then exchanged a fierce round of hugs before taking the short train ride into downtown Bern. Since I don’t speak German OR French, I was still pretty much cut off from the real world and blissfully made my rounds the ancient city.
I had less than 24 hours before reality would come crashing down.
Sunday morning I woke early to take the train to Geneva, my final city of the trip. Since I would be flying out Monday afternoon, I had reserved a room at a hotel near the airport, which meant the airport was also my train stop that morning. I decided that, since I was there, I would walk through the terminal and get an update on the Iceland situation.
The airport was completely empty.
While the train station was jammed packed full of people, once you walked through the terminal doors, an eerie silence fell over the place. Completely devoid of passengers, the only life seemed to come from the continuously updating arrival/departure boards.
Suddenly, I knew that I was in big trouble.