Day 17 - Merde.

11:40
A frustrating morning. I wake to an email from Air France notifying me that my flight out of Montreal is now departing at 18:30 instead of 17:00. Originally, I was booked on a Virgin flight to Heathrow, via JFK, but the time of that changed, so Virgin transferred me to the Air France flight instead. The new arrival time into Charles de Gaulle airport gives me all of, ooh - ten minutes to make my transfer to the Heathrow flight. CDG is not an efficient airport. Minimum of an hour to transfer. I log into my Air France account, aaaaaand - nothing. My Montreal flight isn’t showing as changed. I log into my Virgin account, and can’t even access the booking, as their systems appear to be down. I try to call Air France’s office in Canada, but the phone rings out. Merde.

Eventually, I manage to get hold of an agent via WhatsApp of all things. I ask for confirmation of the new flight time, and some 30 minutes later, I get confirmation that yes - my flight’s going to be later. A further 30 minutes has me booked onto a later flight out of Paris into Heathrow. Sacre-bleu, it’s been a bit of a pain.

I shuffle my plans around for the remainder of the day.

18:30
Well, this has turned into quite the clusterfuck. I head out around 12:30, and aim for the Olympic Park, in the North East of the city. My first stop is for food, at a great place called Poutine Centrale. No prizes available for guessing the focus of their menu. I order a Philly Cheesesteak poutine, and it is sensational. The shaved steak has incredible flavour, and the combination of cheese sauce, jalapeños, roasted peppers, onions and fries is a big bowl of awesome.

I walk back to the Olympic Park, and stop by the main Olympic stadium. It’s an incredible building - unlike any other stadium I can remember seeing. It is at this point that things start to go a little pear shaped.

An email from Air France, informing me that my flight has now been brought FORWARD by 4 hours. That’s fine in terms of a departure time from Montreal, but means that I’ll either have a 5 hour wait in Paris, or need to change to an earlier flight from Paris into Heathrow. I need to get this sorted, as I have onward travel plans from Heathrow. I jump on the Metro to head back towards my apartment. As I walk the last few hundred metres, I have yet another email from Air France, telling me that my flight is no longer leaving on Thursday at all, but that I’m booked on a flight out of Montreal on Friday. My temperature is rising…

Back at the apartment, I fire up my MacBook. Before it’s even finished booting, I’ve got YET another email from Air France, telling me that I’m now booked on an Air Canada flight. My head’s spinning. It seems to be an issue with Air France. I’m hopeful that now I’m booked on another airline, the shitshow can be brought to a close. On the upside, it’s a direct flight into Heathrow, so despite leaving Montreal a few hours later than I’d initially planned, I should be in London earlier than I’d expected.

I decide I deserve a protest nap.

22:45
I head out around 19:30, into snowy conditions. In the hour or so that I’ve slept, a couple of centimetres have fallen. The snow is not the soft, flakey snow that I’ve seen more of in my life, but rather an icy, biting snow. I’m well wrapped up, but the few square centimetres of skin still on display take quite the beating. Where the snow has fallen, it’s already starting to freeze. I suspect the pavements will like a skating rink tomorrow. I walk for about 30 minutes up to a BBQ place i’ve read good things about. My beer is hugely deserved / needed after what’s felt like an unnecessarily stressful day. I think I’ve been pretty lucky with travel disruptions in this 12 months of travelling. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of a horrible complication I’ve had to deal with. Maybe that’s why this stings all the more. The food at Diablo’s is immense. I order a brisket and pork rib combo. Both are brilliant. The brisket is served as a thick slice, almost like a steak. It’s juicy and tender, and has been sensibly smoked. I find some brisket suffers from over-smoking, but this is bang on. The ribs are indecent, slathered in an excellent Kansas style sauce. They have the right amount of give. Some prefer ribs meat to slide off the bone. My preference is for there to be a little (but not too much) resistance. These are right in the Goldilocks sweet spot.

Satiated, I briefly consider heading on somewhere for beer. It’s already pushing towards 22:00 though, and I have a busy day tomorrow…Meer informatie