Rome to home

[xman]

BBC News producer Jack Garland was among thousands of holidaymakers stranded in Rome because of the flight disruption caused by a volcanic ash cloud from Iceland. He kept a diary detailing his attempts to return home.

SATURDAY 17 APRILThe sign is written in broken English and held out to passers-by by a well-kept man in a smart suit and tie.

"I will buy 350 euros (£306) for ticket to Paris."

I would stop to talk to him but I'm caught up in the same fever as he is - a fever that has infected every person in the 1,000-strong crowd squashed into Rome's Termini train station.

We're all trapped in ItalyAt first it was nice, then it was a novelty, and now with Monday fast approaching and hotel bills climbing, for many it's becoming a real economic nightmare.

After pushing through the queues in true Italian fashion and speaking to the station officials, I'm told there are absolutely no un-booked seats on any trains leaving Italy until Tuesday at the latest.

As I leave the station to carry on searching for possible routes home on the internet, I see the businessman standing outside has vanished.

I doubt he was successful - that evening a friend tells me there are cabs parked at Fiumicino Airport offering to drive to Paris for 3,000 euros (£2,630).

SUNDAY 18 APRILIt's the morning and I'm back at Termini station. It's now even harder to get through the massive glass doors, asevery one of the ticketing hall's12,000 sq m (129,167 sq ft) packed out.

This time I've returned with a new plan of escape in mind. Seeing as there are no free seats on trains to France, I'm going to buy a ticket to the closest major city to the border, and then try my luck from there.

When I do get through the entrance, the people inside are still glumly waiting in the stationary queues, but the atmosphere continues to be good-natured.

Conversation is made easy by everyone having a common problem, and around me there are plenty of stories being swapped between strangers.

Two hours later I have a ticket to Turin for early Monday. Until then I can go and eat a last gelato (a type of ice cream) by the Tiber. "Vediamo," as the Italians say, "Che sara, sara."



MONDAY 19 APRILPaula and Darren never met before last week, but for the last four days they've teamed up to try and make it back to the UK together.

They've travelled all the way from Tokyo and when I meet them on the train to Turin, their journey puts mine to shame.

The pair played continental hopscotch to get back to Europe, flying first to Kuala Lumpur, then to Bangkok, then Doha, and finally on to Rome, the airport to London they could find that was open.

They're also more organised than me, having booked train seats to France days ago, and then a rental car to drive to Calais.

Five hours later I'm in yet another queue of Brits and French at the local ticket office.

But transport over the border is booked up, and worse, the computer system that allows them to sell tickets for travel within France has overloaded and crashed.

By late afternoon I'm beginning to ponder the hitchhiking option, when in amongst the crowds, I meet Elise, an energetic young French woman who quickly proves to be a godsend.

She's already got 35 people together to hire a bus and agrees to let me have a seat for my share of the 1,500 euro (£1,315) cost.

She even offers to drop me off in Lyon which is exactly where I'm trying to get to.

A motley mix of French, British, Brazilian and Dutch travellers are soon on their way over the Alps, the slow, snaking drive made easier by everyone swapping stories and sharing biscuits and beer.

MONDAY 19 - TUESDAY 20 APRILIt's gone 0100 local time by the time I'm dropped off at Lyon's Gare de Saint-Exupery with five others heading to Paris.

It's a surreal place, a massive, curved building in the middle of nowhere, and, at-this-time, completely empty of people.

We use automated machines to book our early morning tickets to the capital, and collapse into beds at a nearby hotel for four hours sleep.

I'm still exhausted when I get to Paris but buoyed up by a late night call from a friend in Britain. He's managed to get through the overloadedEurostarsystem and book me the earliest ticket he could - Tuesday morning.

It's first class, and has cost me a whopping £307, but when I arrive at the Gare Du Nord I realise how lucky I've been. All tickets are now sold out until Saturday, despite the company putting extra trains into service.

The final leg of the journey passes in a blur, and I'm soon in London and take the Tube directly back to the office.

I've worn the same shirt for several days now and I seem to have lost my voice somewhere along the way.

I'm extremely happy to be home and, returning to my e-mails, see many of the friends I made on the Turin bus have managed to get to their ferries too.


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