Sunday, September 25, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Hosts, Herring, Boats and Bikes
I can't believe it's only been a week since my last post!
Here's a quick rundown:
We stayed for two or three days in Egmond (pronounded EcchhhhhhKKkkkmuuunnddd), a small seaside village on the cost of the north sea. We biked to the coast where we got thoroughly wind-tossed and then soaked by rain. We took shelter in a small cafe on the beach where we sipped hot cocoa and squinted out at the small white windmills far off in the open ocean stealing energy from the gale. Biking back to the hostel was interesting... at one point I was being passed by a car at the same time a huge gust of wind hit me full in the face, spraying me with high-velocity rain drops. I ended up just closing my eyes and hoping my sense of balance was good enough that I could pass the car unscathed. Needless to say, it all worked out.
After our stay in the country we were moved via tour bus to the city. On the way we visited a quaint little dutch village (obviously geared towards attracting tourists) called Zanse Schans. There are pictures of it on facebook. It was very cute, despite the gray weather and was accompanied by the permeating and inescapable smell of cacao beans. Most people loved the smell, but about half our group found it nauseating (it does NOT smell like chocolate. More like old feet and cheese mixed with something sickeningly sweet). The only way we could escape it was to stand on top of the windmills and get a breath of fresh wind. That wasn't such a bad deal, so I spent a good deal of time standing on a windmill that ground peanuts into oil. Very interesting and old technology. There was a man working there who literally ground nuts into oil all day long while being surrounded by tourists wandering around his work space. That would drive me absolutely bonkers. Maybe he was bonkers, I don't know. Should have spoken to him...
Once we got to the city we were very excited and anxious to explore. Our hostel was another stinky place (for some reason the hallway to our rooms was filled with a wet, moldy smell that enveloped your body and made you feel that the smell was actually caressing your nose hairs, making holding your breath utterly futile). So we went out. This was actually probably the only night we didn't get lost. The subsequent attempts have resulted in hilarious and/or frustrating adventures. Nothing notable happened that night, except we began acquainting ourselves with the area.
On our second day in the city we went out to lunch and then to the Nemo Science Museum. We had some lovely Indonesian food and then found the "Teen Facts" exhibit at the museum. It consisted of a peep show - describing how to preform a blow job, what foreplay is, and how animals 'do it' - and various interactive displays on puberty and sex. It had a nice glass case full of wooden figurines in various sexual positions with helpful little signs next to each one that gave both the dutch and english name for that particular... angle. It was pretty sex-positive, which was nice. The only problems I had with it was its token references to homosexuality and race, and its horrifying depiction of puberty. They had an animated video that showed the stages of puberty each boy and girl supposedly goes through. This would have been helpful, except their exaggerated depictions of hip growth, body hair, pimples, and hight change were so abrupt that they seems gruesome and torturous. I couldn't help thinking that if I'd seen that video before I'd gone through puberty, I might have been truly terrified of what was to come.
That night most people went out to a coffee shop, but I stayed home because, lo! I had food poisoning. Apparently the indonesian food wasn't as delicious as I thought it was, and I spent most of my night feeling crummy and annoying my roommates by hogging the bathroom. That's not true, they were very nice to me. But I did feel awful, and was very glad to wake up feeling better the next morning.
The day we were to meet our host families finally arrived. We were all very nervous and excited, but we had the whole day to wander the city. A couple girls and I walked around for a bit and found a little free piano concert happening in some obscure building. The pianist was a very young asian man, maybe my age, who looked a little geeky but very sweet. He started playing an improvised piece from a video game (ahem, as i said: geeky), which sampled from a famous Japanese composer. It was amazingly beautiful to watch him play. The music sort of swept him up and rocked him; you could see his body swaying and leaning with the music, as if he were floating on the notes his fingers were playing. At one point tears started leaking from underneath his closed eyelids and slid silently down his face. He was so absorbed in the music I don't think he even noticed until he finished the piece and stepped away from the piano. Then he sheepishly wiped his face and looked embarrassed when people clapped. He was so genuine and modest, it was a very sweet experience. I left feeling deeply touched, like I'd peeked into the beauty of a stranger's soul.
After lunch we headed back to the school to meet our host families. We sat nervously in the cafe below SIT until they came and herded us upstairs to a room full of uncomfortable-looking dutch families milling around the office. We were paired up one by one and left to introduce ourself and talk for a bit. My host mom was the only one there since the rest of the family was of vacation in the countryside. Her name is Stephanie and she's a little shorter than me and has dark unruly wiry hair that she dyes with henna. She's plump and wears fantastic prints and colors all the time. She's got a great sense of humor, loves Diana Ross, and is an excellent cook. Basically, she's my mom. Except she looks exceptionally like my godmother, and speaks like her too. I find her whole personality and appearance exceedingly comforting and homey. She's quick to smile and very caring. She already seems to like me a lot, which is I'm happy about.
We drove in their little French car (which has holders in the trunk for wine bottles - of course...) for about half an hour into the middle of nowhere. We were near Utrecht, in the 'bible belt' of the Netherlands. Apparently the last few fundamentalists of the country live in a small part altogether, perhaps clinging to their dying lifestyle together. (Most of the Netherlands is non-religious or very lax nowadays).
Once we got to the campground (more of a cabin rental place with some area for camping) I dropped my stuff off in the cabin and then met the entire family. So many aunts and uncles and teenage cousins, I couldn't keep track. The grandma was very sweet; she didn't speak a word of English, but we each spoke enough German to communicate the basics. She liked to clasp my hand in both of hers, and shake it firmly for about a minute or two while talking incoherently in Dutch. I got a lot of practice smiling and nodding.
My host brother and sister were at the cabin to greet me. Stephanie told me that they were very excited to meet me, but at first they were a little shy. The brother's name is Blue and he's 17. He has a thick mop of nearly strawberry blond hair and is tall and thin. He's got a nice smile and is quite a handsome young man. He also likes a lot of the same music as I do, so we quickly had a conversation about our favorite artists. He also likes to read a lot of English books (his English is very good, better than anyone else in his family in fact) and talked to me extensively about Cacher In The Rye, Life of Pi, and many American authors I'd never read. He's a musician/intellectual type, I can tell. He loves to quiz me on English words and American culture, especially Hipsters. he loves talking about Hipsters. And New York. He's taking me to see Yann Tiersen in November when he comes to Amsterdam. I am SO excited, and grateful that he's letting me tag along with him and his friends.
My host sister's name is Luna (which seemed like a cat name to me at first, but I quite like it. I think it suits her), and she's very sweet. She's got long blond hair in tight curls that cascades down her back in the most appealing way. She's very fit because she plays hockey (but not on ice - they play field hockey here) and quite pretty. She's 14 and doesn't think her English is very good, so she's somewhat shy about talking to me still. But her parents are forcing her to translate her Dutch and she's quite good. I think she just need reassurance to feel more comfortable speaking it. I'm excited to bond more with her. We've already established a mutual guilty pleasure of Beyonce, and we're planning on watching both the English and Dutch versions of Love Actually (yes, there's a Dutch version apparently. Complete with Dutch actors) this christmas season. I think it's a good start.
The final member of the family, Alex, is my host dad. We haven't really bonded yet, and he often doesn't care to speak in English and will just speak Dutch to me. I think he's a fan of the immersion technique. It's fine though because he also has a good sense of humor and can communicate quite well when he wants to. He's also a great cook and wants me to cook something I like from home for them sometime (suggestions, anyone?!? What do I eat at home?). He's got a big head of curly blond hair and is quite short for a Dutch man. He works as a principal for a "black" school nearby. Black schools are what the Dutch call schools full of mostly immigrant children. Schools are weirdly segregated here, and most are religious. Alex works at a Christian school, even though he's very anti-religion. It's an odd system.
So I got to stay in a nice log cabin in the woods for two nights with my new host family. One morning Stephanie and Alex left for a bike ride and the kids took me to the swimming pool. We had fun playing with their little cousins for a while, then went back to the cabin. When their parents got back they brought with them a traditional Dutch dish: salted herring. Apparently they take the fish out of the ocean, cut its head off, and put it in a barrel of salt with a bunch of other freshly dead herring. Then when somebody buys one they take it out, gut it, and wrap it up for you. It's nordic sushi, as far as I can tell. But don't make the mistake of thinking it tastes like sushi. They usually eat it by holding its tale and dangling it above their heads, opening their mouths and munching it down. My host dad offered some to me when he unwrapped it. It looked something like this:
Here's a quick rundown:
We stayed for two or three days in Egmond (pronounded EcchhhhhhKKkkkmuuunnddd), a small seaside village on the cost of the north sea. We biked to the coast where we got thoroughly wind-tossed and then soaked by rain. We took shelter in a small cafe on the beach where we sipped hot cocoa and squinted out at the small white windmills far off in the open ocean stealing energy from the gale. Biking back to the hostel was interesting... at one point I was being passed by a car at the same time a huge gust of wind hit me full in the face, spraying me with high-velocity rain drops. I ended up just closing my eyes and hoping my sense of balance was good enough that I could pass the car unscathed. Needless to say, it all worked out.
After our stay in the country we were moved via tour bus to the city. On the way we visited a quaint little dutch village (obviously geared towards attracting tourists) called Zanse Schans. There are pictures of it on facebook. It was very cute, despite the gray weather and was accompanied by the permeating and inescapable smell of cacao beans. Most people loved the smell, but about half our group found it nauseating (it does NOT smell like chocolate. More like old feet and cheese mixed with something sickeningly sweet). The only way we could escape it was to stand on top of the windmills and get a breath of fresh wind. That wasn't such a bad deal, so I spent a good deal of time standing on a windmill that ground peanuts into oil. Very interesting and old technology. There was a man working there who literally ground nuts into oil all day long while being surrounded by tourists wandering around his work space. That would drive me absolutely bonkers. Maybe he was bonkers, I don't know. Should have spoken to him...
Once we got to the city we were very excited and anxious to explore. Our hostel was another stinky place (for some reason the hallway to our rooms was filled with a wet, moldy smell that enveloped your body and made you feel that the smell was actually caressing your nose hairs, making holding your breath utterly futile). So we went out. This was actually probably the only night we didn't get lost. The subsequent attempts have resulted in hilarious and/or frustrating adventures. Nothing notable happened that night, except we began acquainting ourselves with the area.
On our second day in the city we went out to lunch and then to the Nemo Science Museum. We had some lovely Indonesian food and then found the "Teen Facts" exhibit at the museum. It consisted of a peep show - describing how to preform a blow job, what foreplay is, and how animals 'do it' - and various interactive displays on puberty and sex. It had a nice glass case full of wooden figurines in various sexual positions with helpful little signs next to each one that gave both the dutch and english name for that particular... angle. It was pretty sex-positive, which was nice. The only problems I had with it was its token references to homosexuality and race, and its horrifying depiction of puberty. They had an animated video that showed the stages of puberty each boy and girl supposedly goes through. This would have been helpful, except their exaggerated depictions of hip growth, body hair, pimples, and hight change were so abrupt that they seems gruesome and torturous. I couldn't help thinking that if I'd seen that video before I'd gone through puberty, I might have been truly terrified of what was to come.
That night most people went out to a coffee shop, but I stayed home because, lo! I had food poisoning. Apparently the indonesian food wasn't as delicious as I thought it was, and I spent most of my night feeling crummy and annoying my roommates by hogging the bathroom. That's not true, they were very nice to me. But I did feel awful, and was very glad to wake up feeling better the next morning.
The day we were to meet our host families finally arrived. We were all very nervous and excited, but we had the whole day to wander the city. A couple girls and I walked around for a bit and found a little free piano concert happening in some obscure building. The pianist was a very young asian man, maybe my age, who looked a little geeky but very sweet. He started playing an improvised piece from a video game (ahem, as i said: geeky), which sampled from a famous Japanese composer. It was amazingly beautiful to watch him play. The music sort of swept him up and rocked him; you could see his body swaying and leaning with the music, as if he were floating on the notes his fingers were playing. At one point tears started leaking from underneath his closed eyelids and slid silently down his face. He was so absorbed in the music I don't think he even noticed until he finished the piece and stepped away from the piano. Then he sheepishly wiped his face and looked embarrassed when people clapped. He was so genuine and modest, it was a very sweet experience. I left feeling deeply touched, like I'd peeked into the beauty of a stranger's soul.
After lunch we headed back to the school to meet our host families. We sat nervously in the cafe below SIT until they came and herded us upstairs to a room full of uncomfortable-looking dutch families milling around the office. We were paired up one by one and left to introduce ourself and talk for a bit. My host mom was the only one there since the rest of the family was of vacation in the countryside. Her name is Stephanie and she's a little shorter than me and has dark unruly wiry hair that she dyes with henna. She's plump and wears fantastic prints and colors all the time. She's got a great sense of humor, loves Diana Ross, and is an excellent cook. Basically, she's my mom. Except she looks exceptionally like my godmother, and speaks like her too. I find her whole personality and appearance exceedingly comforting and homey. She's quick to smile and very caring. She already seems to like me a lot, which is I'm happy about.
We drove in their little French car (which has holders in the trunk for wine bottles - of course...) for about half an hour into the middle of nowhere. We were near Utrecht, in the 'bible belt' of the Netherlands. Apparently the last few fundamentalists of the country live in a small part altogether, perhaps clinging to their dying lifestyle together. (Most of the Netherlands is non-religious or very lax nowadays).
Once we got to the campground (more of a cabin rental place with some area for camping) I dropped my stuff off in the cabin and then met the entire family. So many aunts and uncles and teenage cousins, I couldn't keep track. The grandma was very sweet; she didn't speak a word of English, but we each spoke enough German to communicate the basics. She liked to clasp my hand in both of hers, and shake it firmly for about a minute or two while talking incoherently in Dutch. I got a lot of practice smiling and nodding.
My host brother and sister were at the cabin to greet me. Stephanie told me that they were very excited to meet me, but at first they were a little shy. The brother's name is Blue and he's 17. He has a thick mop of nearly strawberry blond hair and is tall and thin. He's got a nice smile and is quite a handsome young man. He also likes a lot of the same music as I do, so we quickly had a conversation about our favorite artists. He also likes to read a lot of English books (his English is very good, better than anyone else in his family in fact) and talked to me extensively about Cacher In The Rye, Life of Pi, and many American authors I'd never read. He's a musician/intellectual type, I can tell. He loves to quiz me on English words and American culture, especially Hipsters. he loves talking about Hipsters. And New York. He's taking me to see Yann Tiersen in November when he comes to Amsterdam. I am SO excited, and grateful that he's letting me tag along with him and his friends.
My host sister's name is Luna (which seemed like a cat name to me at first, but I quite like it. I think it suits her), and she's very sweet. She's got long blond hair in tight curls that cascades down her back in the most appealing way. She's very fit because she plays hockey (but not on ice - they play field hockey here) and quite pretty. She's 14 and doesn't think her English is very good, so she's somewhat shy about talking to me still. But her parents are forcing her to translate her Dutch and she's quite good. I think she just need reassurance to feel more comfortable speaking it. I'm excited to bond more with her. We've already established a mutual guilty pleasure of Beyonce, and we're planning on watching both the English and Dutch versions of Love Actually (yes, there's a Dutch version apparently. Complete with Dutch actors) this christmas season. I think it's a good start.
The final member of the family, Alex, is my host dad. We haven't really bonded yet, and he often doesn't care to speak in English and will just speak Dutch to me. I think he's a fan of the immersion technique. It's fine though because he also has a good sense of humor and can communicate quite well when he wants to. He's also a great cook and wants me to cook something I like from home for them sometime (suggestions, anyone?!? What do I eat at home?). He's got a big head of curly blond hair and is quite short for a Dutch man. He works as a principal for a "black" school nearby. Black schools are what the Dutch call schools full of mostly immigrant children. Schools are weirdly segregated here, and most are religious. Alex works at a Christian school, even though he's very anti-religion. It's an odd system.
So I got to stay in a nice log cabin in the woods for two nights with my new host family. One morning Stephanie and Alex left for a bike ride and the kids took me to the swimming pool. We had fun playing with their little cousins for a while, then went back to the cabin. When their parents got back they brought with them a traditional Dutch dish: salted herring. Apparently they take the fish out of the ocean, cut its head off, and put it in a barrel of salt with a bunch of other freshly dead herring. Then when somebody buys one they take it out, gut it, and wrap it up for you. It's nordic sushi, as far as I can tell. But don't make the mistake of thinking it tastes like sushi. They usually eat it by holding its tale and dangling it above their heads, opening their mouths and munching it down. My host dad offered some to me when he unwrapped it. It looked something like this:
Except it was more grayish in color. I did not recognize it as something I'd want to put in my mouth, but I suppressed the images of Gollum gnawing on raw fish that popped into my head and took a bite.
It was like eating raw animal. It was EXACTLY like eating raw animal. It was springy and fleshy and salty and VERY fishy. It tasted like what I imagine biting into my own arm might taste like, only fishier.
Needless to say, that was my last bite... even if I did smile and swallow politely. But they congratulated me for trying it at all, and seemed pleased with my gumption. Having passed the first cultural test, I avoided watching them slurp down the rest of the carcasses by reading my book.
Our short vacation ended later that day and we headed home so I had time to do homework before school the next morning.
I don't know how to describe the house. I suppose I'll have to take pictures. Suffice to say that it's very cozy and hippy in a European way. I don't think they're intending to be hippy, it just seems that way because they're old-school European: more of the great-grandmother's old oak chest than the ikea shelving unit, you know? Anyway it's not creepily tidy so I don't have to be worried about living in the space. Blue gave me his room and moved to the basement, which was very nice. They have three floors and a spiral staircase all the way up. The garden is wild and lush and beautiful. I'm so glad my window looks out over it, because it's a nice reminder of home. There are two cats: Hassan and Koala. They're sweet too, cuddling with me and doing cute things that I want to take pictures of. I'm so glad I have pets here to adore.
On monday we got our bikes at school. They are backpedal break bikes. I have never ridden a backpedal bike... needless to say it was a learning experience. I had a few of the squeeze-the-handle-bars-frantically-while-barrelling-toward-an-object-only-to-veer-to-the-side-just-before-a-collision-and-THEN-realizing-how-to-break moments. The traffic of Amsterdam is not a great place to re-learn how to break. I was dead set on finding a handle-bar break bike, but then I toughed it out a while longer and now I'm getting the hang of it. The only thing that worries me now is my HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTE COMMUTE TO SCHOOL. I'm sure it'll get shorter the more I do it, but good god. I was so late to class this morning, and I gave myself an hour, which I thought was plenty of time. But I live in the north, and I have to bike for 15-20 minutes to a ferry which crosses the Ij (a body of water) and then make my way to the center of the city from the other side. I got very lost on my way this morning too, so once I get the route down it'll be a bit shorter.
Hopefully this winter I can bike to the ferry and then take the tram to school from there. It's already cold on my ears and nose to bike in this weather, and it's been quite sunny the last two days. I'm going to buy earmuffs tomorrow.
Classes have been good so far. Dutch class is ridiculous. I'm the only one in the program with any experience speaking a Germanic language, everyone else knows some Spanish or French. We sound like a sad hacking pack of losers. There are so many "gghhhccckkkk" guttural sounds in Dutch that even my experience with German isn't sufficient. Plus I keep pronouncing things like a German, which is nothing like the Dutch pronunciation. So I'm struggling because I often know the word, but I have to relearn the pronunciation. Which is hard to do; I'm realizing how ingrained my German is. At least we're all mutually horrible at it. Our teacher realizes that he can't get us fluent or even conversational in 3 months, so he's resorted to what he calls "survival dutch". So far all I know is the alphabet and how to say "to fuck in the kitchen" (neuken in de keuken!). I figure that's all I really need to know anyway...
We have a lot of reading to do and classes go from 10 to 5 each day (two 3-hour-long lectures and a break for lunch). I'm brain and body tired when I get home from school, and it's so nice to have a dinner prepared for me and a warm bed to collapse in. I'm very comfortable with my home already, and my only regret is that it's not closer to the center of town because I don't really feel like leaving once I've made it home. But I'll get better about that once I get more used to the commute.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Finnish Grandmas, Drunken Poles, Meryl Streep, and Domesticated Deer... Hello Amsterdam!
So far I’m loving the Netherlands. Getting here was painful, but it was well worth it. After going to the airport a day early (with an entire farewell party to send me off) I had some extra time to prepare myself mentally for leaving. However, when I went the next day to the airport I was unable to find my flight again. It turns out that my flight was switched from US Airways to Lufthansa, and it was pushed back three hours. I was therefore able to enjoy some good sunbathing time outside the airport with Daniel and go to lunch at 13 Coins before checking in.
Once I got on the plane, I started chatting with the people next to me. I sat in the middle seat of the middle row, so I was unfortunately unable to watch the take-off. However, I got to drink on the flight for free and started up an interesting conversation with a 74-year-old Finnish woman about education and feminism in the US and Finland. She was a lovely old lady and extremely smart, and I felt like she really liked me. She talked a lot about her avid biking hobby and how, even at her age, she was still taking bike trips along the Danube and in parts of rural China. She reminded me of my mom (except you're obviously much younger, mommy) and I shared some of her stories about biking around the South Pacific Islands and Europe. Basically, we bonded.
On my other side sat this giant of a young man who was so large that he was literally unable to fit his legs in the space between his seat and the one in front. He sprawled somewhat awkwardly into the isle between the seats, apologizing each time someone tried to get past him. We began talking and it turned out he was a student at UW as well, on the football team. He was going to Poland to take care of his elderly grandfather, spoke Polish fluently, and was going to be in Europe the same amount of time as me. These were enough similarities to get us talking for quite some time. We also both liked 30 Rock, dancing, and the Suzzalo Library. I was beginning to think he might be a good person to be friends with once I get back to the states, since I haven’t made friends with any people from school yet.
At some point, after watching about half of the movie Water For Elephants I put my eye mask on and snuggled down for a nap. When I awoke I found my Polish friend finishing off a fifth of Southern Comfort that he had bought at the duty free store. He literally drank the entire bottle within the span of an hour without any mixer or chaser. He just filled up the little airplane cup and downed it like a shot…over and over again. I watched with amusement as he drained the last of it, and then became a little concerned. He quickly descended from tipsy to very, very drunk right before my eyes. He started lightly flirting with me at first, then emphatically asking me what my ‘type’ was and exclaiming at the smallness of my wrists (apparently they’re very small to a 260 lb drunk Polish guy). After that I was mildly amused but slightly uncomfortable and decided to try going back to my nap. This only resulted in having the last of the Southern Comfort spilled in my hair and hearing him whisper in my ear “What if I just leaned over while you have the mask over your eyes and I just kissed you?”, followed by his breath on my cheek and his shoulder pressing into mine. I jerked away and pulled off my mask. He was leaning in, staring intently at me. At this point he started slurring his speech considerably and telling me how women only wear yoga pants (which I was wearing for the plane ride) to get the attention of men. At this point I felt a bit trapped between the sleeping grandma and the drunken Pole. I just smiled and said the yoga pants were a comfortable alternative to jeans for a 9-hour flight. Around this time his eyes were heavily lidded and a little bit of drool was hanging from the corner of his mouth. I could tell he could no longer focus on me, but he kept leaning farther in towards me, putting quite a lot of weight on my arm and shoulder. Luckily, just when I had run out of patience and kindness, a flight attendant came up and told him that he “had to leave the nice lady alone now”, or he would be picked up by the police when we arrived in Frankfurt. He became belligerent with her and got up from his seat, stumbling heavily into other passengers and going into the back of the plane, upsetting a number of stewardesses. He was escorted back to his seat, where he sat sullenly until passing out on my shoulder and producing an impressive rope of drool from his open mouth down to his chest. I tried to ignore it and spoke some more with the kindly old lady about environmentalism.
Eventually he woke up though, and with about an hour left of the flight he stood up, swayed dangerously, and then looked around frantically with the face of someone who is about to puke and knows it. He was rushed to the restroom by a stewardess and stayed there for a long time. He made a big commotion by the bathrooms though, because there was some shouting and the entire staff of the plane was rushing around anxiously and whispering in fast-paced German to one another. Eventually I was given a seat in the back of the plane where the flight attendants sit for landing because they didn’t want him puking on me or being inappropriate. I was given drinks and chocolate and enjoyed listening to the flight attendants talk about me without realizing I understand German. I was then strapped into their considerably more intense seatbelt system and sat through a very turbulent landing without any window to look out of and a bunch of metal boxes rattling in the walls all around me.
After landing in Frankfurt I went back to my seat and got my stuff together without disturbance, since Mr. SoCo was still in the restroom. As we disembarked (we got off the plane and walked down stairs right onto the tarmac! I was stoked about it, since I’ve only ever seen that in movies), I saw four German policemen escort him from the aircraft into a cop car parked next to the plane. He was in pretty bad shape, he was barely able to stand by himself. I was sad that he had so completely ruined his trip – since he was probably not going to make his connecting flight – but also that he had totally lost my respect. He’d seemed like a very decent guy and I was interested in getting to know him better before he made a complete and utter fool of himself.
So I made it to Europe, and I was in a country of which I knew the language enough to understand the signs and speak to the German TSA. Customs was the most relaxed I’ve ever seen. The guy who stamped my passport didn’t even talk to me, but instead continued his conversation with a fellow security guard while he glanced at me and then handed back my passport. He didn’t check for a visa or even ask my purpose for travelling. This was probably a good thing, even though I was actually quite proud of myself for using my German instead of defaulting to English. But I was utterly exhausted, the jet lag was setting in and I was starving but too nervous to eat. As I wandered through the airport I noticed that all the security and employees were riding bikes... in the airport. Almost every person I looked at said "Hallo" or "Guten Morgen" to me, and every old lady looked like Meryl Streep. That part particularly confused me, but looking back I was probably hallucinating from exhaustion. I found my gate and was just settling down to snooze before boarding when an announcement over the intercom informed us that the airplane was having technical difficulties and its inspection was setting back our departure time. After about an hour they finally announced that the plane was not fit for flying and they were trying to locate another aircraft. At this point I started to wonder if I would get to Amsterdam in time. It was 12:30 and I was supposed to meet my group at 2:00. It was only an hour flight, but the timing was getting tight. Half an hour later, after a gate change, lots of waiting, and a long bus ride to the plane, we were boarded and taking off. I fell asleep almost immediately and slept almost the entire flight, only waking up after we’d landed and finished taxiing (which is a clue as either how tired I was or how good at landing the pilot was). I got off the plane at 1:54, and started rushing through the airport, unsure of where I was going but knowing I had 6 minutes to get there. I had to run across what felt like the entire airport before I found the baggage claim area. I then had to sit for what felt like eons before the luggage came out. I grabbed mine and rushed past the security, and started searching the arrivals area for a group of travel-weary-looking girls roughly my age. Finally I spotted some faced I recognized from facebook and with a great sigh of relief checked in with the program coordinator and introduced myself to my new classmates.
I had very little time to rest though before we were swept out to a big tour bus and driven for an hour through breathtaking countryside accented with dramatic clouds and evening sunshine to a little hostel called ‘Stay Okay’ (which made me feel like we were heading to a self-esteem camp). It’s situated between fields full of horses and small hills covered in trees. We dropped off our luggage and went for a walk through windswept fields before dinner. The walk was lovely and very windy. We saw domesticated DEER grazing next to horses as well as pigmy goats and cows. It was a great chance to talk to some of my classmates and get fresh air after spending way too much time on planes and buses. We then had dinner and went to our 5-person rooms for the night. I was going to stay up and email family but I fell asleep while the internet was loading and ended up going to bed at 7:30. However I slept all night and was refreshed and ready for breakfast when it was served at 8:30 am. I now feel pretty on schedule, although I’m still a little tired and I may be getting sick because I’ve sneezed about 12 times an hour today. Which is excessive even for me.
Today, Sept. 6, we had some introductions and met some of our teachers. We also got some more info about the program and presented some of the homework we did over the summer. We each got a packet with a bunch of information in it, including a map of bike paths in Amsterdam, a tram card loaded with about 40 euro, and a museum pass that allows us free access to any museum in the Netherlands. AWESOME. I am going to seriously geek out about museums this trip.
I already really like all the girls in the program; even though I’m the only one from a West Coast school we have a lot in common. They’re making me want to visit the East Coast and Midwest. Every time I talk about home everyone exclaims about how much they love Seattle or how much they want to visit. I feel like I live in a very special part of the world and I'm happy to represent it here :)
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