(no subject)
A bit overdue, but here now nonetheless. I can not believe that I've been only three short days so far. I feel as though I have experienced so much. Everything about the trip so far has been beyond pleasant.
Altered by the storm that shook Chicago and knocked out the power in many surrounding towns, my plane ticket was changed from a one-stop in Newark to a non-stop flight straight to Amsterdam. Employees were kindly and none of the TSA employees gave me a second look. I moved through the airport like a bright eyed child with a stomach full of butterflies. I recall multiple occurences where my brain caught up with my actions, and the realization would bloom anew: I am going to Europe. It's an exciting realization to have. It is an exciting realization to have more than once and my excitement grew with each consecutive epiphany.
I consumed a remarkably expensive croissant and sipped from an equally pricey bottle of water and listened to passing conversations of the passengers waiting around me. Some of them spoke Dutch, a constant reminder of my destination.
On the plane, the seat next to me remained unoccupied. I napped in starts and stops and I watched the sun set with eyes that resisted sleep. At six past midnight, I watched the sun rise again.
The last hour of the trip was the worst, for I could neither force myself to read nor focus on a game nor nap any more. My mind was scattered in excitement and I stared out over the dark expanses of the ocean and watched in glee as we began to dip low enough to see small ships and at last swimmers in the waves. The countryside of the Netharlands stretched out before the belly of the plane in shades of green, neatly arranged in rows of farmland.
Anne, my host, met me at the gate and we hugged like old friends and tittered in excitement while other airport patrons milled around us.
I'm running out of prose to spew, as we're preparing for bed, but these past days have been marvelous and I look forward to recounting them at a time where I am able.
Altered by the storm that shook Chicago and knocked out the power in many surrounding towns, my plane ticket was changed from a one-stop in Newark to a non-stop flight straight to Amsterdam. Employees were kindly and none of the TSA employees gave me a second look. I moved through the airport like a bright eyed child with a stomach full of butterflies. I recall multiple occurences where my brain caught up with my actions, and the realization would bloom anew: I am going to Europe. It's an exciting realization to have. It is an exciting realization to have more than once and my excitement grew with each consecutive epiphany.
I consumed a remarkably expensive croissant and sipped from an equally pricey bottle of water and listened to passing conversations of the passengers waiting around me. Some of them spoke Dutch, a constant reminder of my destination.
On the plane, the seat next to me remained unoccupied. I napped in starts and stops and I watched the sun set with eyes that resisted sleep. At six past midnight, I watched the sun rise again.
The last hour of the trip was the worst, for I could neither force myself to read nor focus on a game nor nap any more. My mind was scattered in excitement and I stared out over the dark expanses of the ocean and watched in glee as we began to dip low enough to see small ships and at last swimmers in the waves. The countryside of the Netharlands stretched out before the belly of the plane in shades of green, neatly arranged in rows of farmland.
Anne, my host, met me at the gate and we hugged like old friends and tittered in excitement while other airport patrons milled around us.
I'm running out of prose to spew, as we're preparing for bed, but these past days have been marvelous and I look forward to recounting them at a time where I am able.