Travel Ugly*--Left but Not There Yet
01/28(probably, though when you're on an airplane, there is no day or time)/12
No one ever told me that at night in a plane above Manchester, you can see veins of gold. Silver. Precious metals that remind me of the story of the golden windows. I've never seen the veins from in the night sky in the U.S.. Lights from cities, to be sure. But not such glittering opulence.
No one ever told me that the sun doesn't rise in this part of the world till 8 'o' clock. That, in the summer, it doesn't let go its hold on the world until 10 PM. This seems natural to me. The true way of things I've been missing in the U.S., where the sun wakes me up too early and leaves me drained too soon.
..............................................(Some indeterminate amount of hours later)..............................................................
A very friendly man at the airport bar--from San Diego, though Mexico originally--drug me away from silent reveries and into a conversation about where I'm going and how Amsterdam is his all-time-favorite place. So kind and interested in what I was saying. So endearing, his sometime-struggle with words. That I had to find the word "envious" for him, and he had to clarify "the bad kind" of envious, though I don't think that's what he meant. That pushing through language barriers? That, I am envious of. The good kind.
As we were finishing our beer and wine, respectively, he made mention of how I should not come off as an entitled American, though not in those words. That it is not well-received in Europe. I told him, that's not my style. That I plan to run around apologizing for my country, if anything.
He gave me his card to tell him of my trip. I'm still trying to decide if his intentions are as pure and sweet as they seemed. I was, after all, sitting in a bar in Airport Pajamas--a t-shirt with a bunny and a saying (worn hipster-ironic) "teachers are great. whatever. can I have an A?" and no make up. I'm always assuming my bareness means I'm invisible
*Name of travelblog subject to change.
No one ever told me that at night in a plane above Manchester, you can see veins of gold. Silver. Precious metals that remind me of the story of the golden windows. I've never seen the veins from in the night sky in the U.S.. Lights from cities, to be sure. But not such glittering opulence.
No one ever told me that the sun doesn't rise in this part of the world till 8 'o' clock. That, in the summer, it doesn't let go its hold on the world until 10 PM. This seems natural to me. The true way of things I've been missing in the U.S., where the sun wakes me up too early and leaves me drained too soon.
..............................................(Some indeterminate amount of hours later)..............................................................
A very friendly man at the airport bar--from San Diego, though Mexico originally--drug me away from silent reveries and into a conversation about where I'm going and how Amsterdam is his all-time-favorite place. So kind and interested in what I was saying. So endearing, his sometime-struggle with words. That I had to find the word "envious" for him, and he had to clarify "the bad kind" of envious, though I don't think that's what he meant. That pushing through language barriers? That, I am envious of. The good kind.
As we were finishing our beer and wine, respectively, he made mention of how I should not come off as an entitled American, though not in those words. That it is not well-received in Europe. I told him, that's not my style. That I plan to run around apologizing for my country, if anything.
He gave me his card to tell him of my trip. I'm still trying to decide if his intentions are as pure and sweet as they seemed. I was, after all, sitting in a bar in Airport Pajamas--a t-shirt with a bunny and a saying (worn hipster-ironic) "teachers are great. whatever. can I have an A?" and no make up. I'm always assuming my bareness means I'm invisible
*Name of travelblog subject to change.