Volcano, Jails and Snoring

As I write this I am sitting in seat 1 A of business class bound for London and currently somewhere over northern Thailand. I have just enjoyed a lovely steak and now washing it down with a few beers. Sounds lovely doesn`t it?

If only the past week had gone so smoothly .....

So we had the Chinese Grand Prix on Sunday, not that I can remember it, I can`t even remember who won. This is not because the race was boring. Far from it, in fact there was action galore. But due to the fact that the minute the Icelandic volcano erupted the F1 paddock personel have thought of nothing more than `How the bloody hell are we going to get home?`

The race ended and all members of the F1 travelling circus turned their attention to booking flights home . Can I get a connecting flight from Shanghai to Bangkok? Does Lufthansa fly into Kuala Lumpur? Do I need a visa to transfer through Singapore? How long does it take to drive to Calais from Porto? Can I fit any more fake Rolex`s in my luggage? Have I got enough pants to last another week? And all other conceivable options.

As we woke on Monday the full extent of the situation dawned on us. We were stuck. All flights to the UK and most of Europe were cancelled.

Now, normally this would not be a problem. A few days extra away from home, staying in a nice hotel, time to explore the local area, time to get all of your work done before returning to the UK, maybe even a few boozy nights out with colleagues? But No, this was the Chinese Grand Prix, and it is not the place that you want to be stranded.

So we came up with a plan to get home; Our original airline offered us a date of the 6th May which was 16 days away and there was no way on this earth that I was staying in China for 16 days, I would rather crawl home!

So we decided upon Shanghai - Hanoi - Moscow - London. This would give the volcano time to calm down and in theory provide us somewhere nice to ride out the flight chaos ensuing in Europe.

This was all going swimmingly well until we arrived in Hanoi and Vietnamese immigration studied our visa documents to find that the visa office had actually incorrectly filled-out the forms. The authorities decided that we were illegally trying to enter Vietman and they told us that we were being sent back to China (where by now, we also did not have a current visa!) No end of discussions and pleading ensued until we were shown to what the officers called the `Transit Hotel`. The Transit Hotel turned out to be a prison. We were ushered in and shown where we were going to spend the night whilst they investigated our visas. We were to share this barren room with an armed guard for the night who had not expected our arrival and had consumed a few too many bottles of cheap red wine. Ok, he was hammered. And armed. And he snored!, It was not a fun 12 hours.

Our visas were processed the following day and we headed eagerly into Hanoi. What a place. The contrast from the grimy heavy air of Shanghai to an immigration cell, to the tropical holiday vibe of the Hanoi Old Town was very welcome.

Sadly our little trip had to come to a premature end due to an earlier flight being available and so as I now sit here, heading to London, consuming another beer, I look back at the rollercoaster of the past 72 hours.

I know one thing for sure, I thought the snoring from the armed guard 24 hours ago was bad, but the snoring from the guy in the seat behind me might just set the volcano off again!