My graduation present to me...

So one day I was racing along like a headless chicken, writing papers, taking tests, badgering distant colleges to post my grades, and then suddenly (all of a piece, like falling down a well), I was done.  No more college.  Period.  And I'd wondered if I would notice, or if I'd just keep barrelling on, but I noticed.  It hit me suddenly when I was about to leave the house and I thought, "I should bring along a textbook to read, or some flashcards to review, or-- wait a sec..."  And it was awesome.  I'll write a post about my college experience sometime, but for now it suffices to know that after two years and two months of strenuous effort, I have finally completed my BA in English.  This calls for cake.  And a parade.  Or at least...

...a trip to Europe.

here there be monsters

Alongside paying for school, I've been saving up for my Graduation Present For Me: A visit with my dear friend Lauren (and her husband Tim and her offspring Isaac) in their home-for-two-years in Denmark.  Since Europe is smaller than you think it is, we've got big plans to visit a few other countries while we're at it.


So having given my room a swift post-college cleaning, I packed (too much) stuff into (too many) bags and set out to have an adventure.

they appear to be eating muffins

I recommend that if you are planning to have an adventure which prominently features air travel that (if possible) you embark from a small airport.  The lines are shorter, the people are nicer, and the air isn't super-charged with particles of "I hate life", "the TSA sucks", and "oh my GOSH I'm going to miss my connecting flight!"  Asheville Airport is an excellent choice, if you're looking for a recommendation.  It only has four gates, and the muffins are delish.  And by the way, I know Delta says to arrive three hours early for international flights, but if you're starting from a small airport, that's serious overkill.

a girl, a smoothie, a suitcase

So I flew to Detroit, spent a few hours in the McNamara terminal (someone had left their doughnut-pillow around the neck of McNamara's bronze bust in the lobby, which I thought was considerate), and boarded the ReallyReally Long Flight from Detroit to Amsterdam.  This is so very amateur world-traveller of me, but every time I had to show my passport to an airline official, I got a thrill.  I tried to look all chill and oh-you-mean-THIS-passport, but inside I was doing the dance of joy and grinning like an idiot.

come fly with me

My seatmate was Valentina, who was super-excited because she was going to the Ukraine to visit her big sister (whom she adores).  Valentina has been living in Detroit for 20 years and has raised two children to adulthood there, but still had trouble with a lot of basic English words, so our conversation was hilariously disjointed.  Still, we had fun trying, and if we spent more time laughing at our translational mishaps than we actually spent communicating, well, a little laughter never hurt a conversation.  Valentina also gave me some excellent perspective on my own weariness.  Neither of us slept well on our nine-hour flight, but whereas in a mere five hours after landing in Amsterdam, I would have flown to Copenhagen, taken a train to Roskilde, and then a quick bus to Lauren's house, Valentina's day was just beginning.  She would land in Amsterdam, kill three hours there, catch another five-hour flight to Kiev, and then it was a mere eight hours on a bus to reach her sister's village.  *slack-jawed horror*  How can a robust young 27-year-old woman complain of aching-knees-from-too-much-sitting when presented with such a plucky quinquagenarian?  She can't, that's what.

Before I land you in Amsterdam, I have to tell you: flying over the Atlantic with a full moon overhead and a thin sheet of ruffled cloud underneath is just plain magical.  Unfortunately, it doesn't photograph well, you're just going to have to try it.  Also: airline food is like hospital food.  Fruit is safe, and so are peanuts.  Meat, however, should be avoided -- especially if it's heated.  I think there was a salad too, but I've already forgotten it.  I watched 'The Artist' on my tiny TV screen, dozed a little, saw the city lights in London, and suddenly the sun was rising over Amsterdam and they were feeding us breakfast-like foods.

that is the Netherlands

Amsterdam was less-than-fun because I had to go through passport control and the line was kind of... all over the place.  And my feet hurt.  And my body suddenly realized that though the airport clock was saying 7 am, my body was saying 1 am after a night with no sleep.  My next flight was due to leave at 8 am (my 2 am) so I polished up my best zombie impression and stared at my knee-caps for an hour.  Fortunately, my seat mates on my final flight were quite happy to talk to each other in quiet Chinese all the way to Copenhagen so that I could sleep a little.  Who am I kidding.  If they'd been screaming at each other in Russian, the result would have been the same.

not the same music festival groupies, but similar

Seeing Lauren in the airport was wonderful.  It was "my bestest friend, ohboyyay!" and "I guess this is the right airport" and "hallelujah, I'm not alone anymore" all in one.  The euphoria woke me up long enough for us to wrestle my luggage onto a train.  We were surrounded by all the hippy young people of Europe, off to Roskilde for the annual music festival.  They were all scruffy, carrying rucksacks, and drinking beer.  Two British blokes tried to give Lauren and I their third friend to take home with us, since he was apparently a "hopeless *expletive*" and they were tired of his company.  That awkward moment where you're offered posession of a slightly drunk Brit with a foul mouth and can think of nothing to do but exchange silent looks with your friend and change the subject.  What, you've never had that moment?

We arrived at Lauren and Tim's apartment at lunch-ish time, and I determined to take a short nap and then power on through until it was properly night time.  We walked over to Isaac's preschool, and I wanted to be small again so I could play there.  There was a tiny paved bike path around a tiny green hill in the fenced yard, and tiny blonde children were riding tiny wheeled things round and round it.  (I was a tiny bit jetlagged, but I swear it was still cute the next day.)  By the time I collapsed into bed at 10 pm I had been awake for nearly 48 hours with only two hours worth of cat naps.  Horizontal surfaces are amazing.  Sleep is bliss.

Even more amazing (once I was conscious enough to appreciate it the next day) was the apartment, which was full of white walls, white furniture, and white light.  You should see it.  If you can't make it out to Roskilde, you should visit Lauren's own corner of the web, Ladaisi, and see it there. 

 

I unpacked into my room and it hit me: I have a whole month to stay here. 

It was a delightful concept.

I'm not sure I brought enough shoes...