The year was meant to end with a dreamlike journey into the fabled land of Enid
Blyton—London, a city long imagined through books, stories, and childhood wonder. At the
crack of dawn, my family and I set out from Rotterdam, full of excitement and quiet
anticipation. The plan was simple and perfect: board the Eurostar, cross borders with ease,
and welcome the New Year amid London’s iconic fireworks.
After completing Dutch and UK immigration formalities, we boarded the Eurostar around 8
a.m. Spirits were high. As the train glided smoothly through the European countryside, we
enjoyed our snacks while other families relished their broodjes and coffee. Conversations
flowed easily, children laughed, and phones clicked pictures as we passed Brussels and rolled
into Lille, France. Everything felt on track—literally and figuratively.
About half an hour later, the train slowed near Calais in preparation to enter the Eurotunnel.
That was when the first announcement came: a delay due to a “technical disruption.” Initially,
it seemed minor, almost routine. But minutes turned into an hour, and then two. Eventually,
we learned the cause—a train had broken down inside the tunnel, and to worsen matters, the
overhead power supply had failed. What followed were three long hours of being stranded in
uncertainty in the middle of tracks.
As time stretched, stories began to emerge among passengers. One traveller urgently needed
to reach London because her husband required dialysis. She pleaded to disembark at Calais to
take a ferry from Dover. Another passenger was heading to Newcastle to celebrate the New
Year with friends after months apart. Each conversation revealed dashed hopes, altered plans,
and quiet disappointments. Our own dreams of London fireworks slowly faded, replaced by
patience and resignation.
Around 2 p.m., after more than four exhausting hours, the decision was made: the train would
return to Brussels Midi. There, immigration was reversed—a surreal experience, as if time
itself was moving backward. Eventually, another Eurostar was arranged to take us back to
Rotterdam. Nearly twelve hours after we had first departed, we found ourselves exactly
where we had started.
Instead of celebrating the year’s end in London, we welcomed it in Rotterdam—unexpected,
quieter, but strangely meaningful. What felt like a personal misadventure was, in fact, a
shared European experience. Thousands of passengers across Paris, London, Amsterdam, and
other parts of Europe were affected by the Eurotunnel disruption. In that shared
inconvenience, there was a sense of collective endurance and humanity.
The journey did not end as planned, but it offered something else: a reminder that travel is as
much about the unexpected as the destination. Sometimes, the stories we remember most are
not of fireworks seen, but of patience learned, kindness shared, and plans rewritten.
