My plan to leave Krakow and Hayley with a dry face proved unsuccessful. I woke Hayley as I was about to leave and we both started crying, and as much as it tore my heart out to leave my little girl alone again, I had a plane to Amsterdam to catch. So with heavy heart I headed off. As I walked to the train station to catch a train to the international airport, I realised that because of my overwhelming sadness last night, I'd forgotten to double-check my travel arrangements. Oh well, it would be OK.

I caught the train to the stop near the airport then the shuttle bus to the international airport. When I arrived at the check-in area I couldn't find the desk for the Amsterdam flights, so I showed an attendant my ticket only to discover I was at the wrong airport…the one I needed was an hour and a half away…and my flight left in two hours time. (A word of warning to novices, cheaper flights often leave from smaller out-of-the-way airports, rather than the main airports of a city.)

OK what should I do? I headed out to a taxi rank I'd seen on my way in, and luckily one of the drivers had a smattering of English and we established that he could get me to the airport in one and a half hours for a cost of €150 ($300). As I was about to jump in the taxi, a guy (maybe the controller of the taxis) came along and started yelling at the driver. I think I might have jumped the taxi queue, but after they exchanged words for a bit, my driver indicated for me to get in and we were off and racing. As I watched the speedo hit 130 I hoped it was kilometres and not miles per hour.

With about half an hour to go I sensed the driver was unsure of where we were; he kept looking at the map and intently studying every sign we went past. He eventually turned off the motorway, stopped in the middle of the off ramp, jumped out of the car (leaving the door wide open) and headed over to where some cars were stopped at traffic lights. I could see him talking with the driver of one of the cars and pointing and nodding. Next thing he was back in the car and we were off again.

We made it to the airport with about twenty minutes before my flight was to leave. Phew! When I walked into the building I could see Amsterdam check-in counter was closed…oh no, what now? I barged my way (sorry, sorry) in front of the people lined up at another check-in counter and pleaded with the attendant to let me check in. She made a phone call, asked me what luggage I had, then said no I wasn't able to check-in. I smiled, thanked her for trying, turned and promptly burst into tears…what was I going to do?

I phoned Hayley and between sobs told her my sad tale. She was very calm and told me "Don't worry Mum, you'll be OK…this happens to lots of people, people you're much smarter than, and they manage, so don't worry, you'll be right." As she was on the bus to Zdiar and didn't have internet access she couldn't help me book another flight to Amsterdam so suggested I find a booking office in the airport instead.

As I was booked into the Shelter City Christian Hostel in Amsterdam tonight I wanted to be in Amsterdam today, rather than staying overnight here (wherever here was) and catching a flight to Amsterdam tomorrow. As my flight to Australia also left tomorrow I didn't want to run the risk of my connecting flight being held up and missing my flight home. So I booked a flight to Amsterdam via Warsaw (Poland) which would get me there tonight and charged the €600 ($1,200) to my credit card. Only trouble was, guess what…the flight left from the original airport I'd left two hours ago!

The airline agent told me there were private shuttle buses which ran between the airport and Krakow for a reasonable price…if only I'd known that earlier. I found one of the buses (which could take about eight passengers) and found out the cost was €20 ($40) per person…if it was full, quite reasonable compared to the €150 ($300) I'd just paid. The driver assured me I would get to Krakow in plenty of time, I'd be dropped at the train station and would need to catch a train to the airport station and then take the shuttle bus to the airport (déjà vu).

They wouldn't leave though until they had enough people otherwise the cost per person went up. As it got closer to the time we needed to leave by so I could catch my flight, and as people kept changing their minds about whether they were going on the bus or not, I said to the driver that I would pay the difference but we needed to leave now (how assertive of me). He told me the price, I rushed to an ATM to get the extra money, but by the time I got back he had enough people and I only had to pay the €20 ($40). You have to catch a break at some time.

So off we headed, back to Krakow, me and eight men I didn't know, who as far as I could tell didn't speak English. After a while a heavy fog set in which slowed our progress and I began to worry that I might miss my next flight, but it eventually lifted and we finally arrived in Krakow, five hours after I'd first left. I caught the train then the bus, taking care to go to the domestic terminal as I was flying to Warsaw. I walked up to the Warsaw check-in counter to be greeted with "Unfortunately…" (WHAT NOW!!! WHAT ELSE CAN GO WRONG!!!) the flight to Warsaw has been cancelled due to heavy fog." I couldn't believe it...but I didn't cry! (I think I used up my daily allowance of tears at the other airport.)

The check-in attendant pointed to an office and told me an alternative flight would be arranged for me. So now I was flying to Amsterdam via Frankfurt (Germany) and guess what…I needed to be at the international terminal to catch that flight, and I was at the domestic terminal! As it was only about a kilometre to the international terminal, I donned my backpack and took off. I phoned Hayley to update her on my situation and I've never been so pleased to finally board a plane as I was that day.

During the short stopover at Frankfurt, which is a huge airport, I bought Aaron a 1kg bag of Haribo's Gummy Bears, which he loves. Finally I arrived in Amsterdam, and as I write this now I'm laughing at the craziness of it all, but I can tell you, it was far from funny at the time.

I checked into my room in the familiar Shelter City Christian Hostel, had a shower and jumped into bed to read and await the return of my four room-mates who'd checked in earlier in the day. Imagine my horror when four teenage girls arrived…I imagined I'd be awake all night, even with earplugs, with them giggling and carrying on. On the contrary, I thoroughly enjoyed the company of these German teenagers (they were all seventeen) as we discussed school life in Germany compared to Australia, what they are taught about the concentration camps and the treatment of the Jewish people during the war, and how amazed I was that their parents would allow them to travel to another country (particularly Amsterdam) on their own for a week's holiday.

As I had an early start the next day, I reluctantly said goodnight and told them I hoped I didn't wake them in the morning, put in my earplugs and went to sleep.