Travelling

8.17 

Pre-Departure Thoughts: Cleveland airport

Feeling anxious, but emotionally exhausted.  It was hard saying goodbye, especially to Mom, who has been crying like it’s a Terms of Endearment marathon.  Why do we cry on such a happy occasion?  I guess because of how much we will surely miss each other.  Also, this still feels so uncertain, so many blanks yet to be filled in.  Truth be told, I blubbered like a baby after I said goodbye to Dad and Zak, all by myself going through airport security.  Broke just like a little girl.  I will feel relieved when 1) I land in Kiev and get my luggage and 2) arrive in Yekaterinburg two weeks later.  For now, I just have to get through every leg of this journey with my cry-induced headache.

En Route Thoughts: Somewhere over the Atlantic

I’m more than half-way done with the longest part of my flight, going from Detroit to Amsterdam.  I’m tired as hell but my ass is somehow painfully numb, and anyway it’s only about 10 pm on my time.  So there’s about three hours left before we land, and I guess I’ll try to get some sleep, because hey, I’ve got no finger nails left anyway.

This plane is enormous--double-decker with three sections in every row.  My seat number is 60-H, if you can believe it.  I’ll be happy when we land in Amsterdam, but still mighty anxious because A) I’ll have a three-hour layover before my flight to Kiev and B) I’ll go on not knowing where my luggage is.  Speaking of which, in the Cleveland airport we discovered that one of my brand new suitcases already has a balled tire.  How’s that for a fortuitous start?  Actually, I’m trying not to read too much into that, but it does not bode well.

Well I guess that’s all for now.  Maybe I’ll write some more in the Amsterdam airport, if I can find a plug and charge this baby up.  My real plan is to eat the richest most delicious meal I’ve ever had in an airport and watch AD or some movie until my flight.  Incidentally, I just watched Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead, a great flick, kind of like  Fargo but not funny.  My feelings for Phillip Seymour Hoffman vacillate between fear and awe.  Right now it’s the former.  I also started listening to the audiobook biography I got of Phil Spector, whose real first name was Harvey and whose parents were Russian Jews!  So I guess between multimedia options and reading Don Quixote, I’ll have plenty  with which to entertain myself.

Ok all you cool cats and chickadees, stay tuned for more rock n roll!

8.18

En Route Thoughts: Amsterdam airport

It is a rainy morning in the Netherlands.  I arrived safely here with just under three hours to kill, so I took my time wandering about this labyrinthine airport looking for something yummy to eat.  I settled for a passable ham and cheese sandwich and the strongest cup of coffee I’ve had since, well, the last time I was in Europe.

The airport is such a wonderful place to watch people, especially a non-American airport.  I’ve been experimenting with passing myself off as other nationalities, like saying “Scusi” or “Pardonnez-moi” when I need to get by.  But I don’t think I’ve been too successful, because inevitably I trip or misstep and emit a revealing “Oy vey.”  I also haven’t the nerve to say “Ausch du blift” (sp?) to people who help me, even though I say it to Zak all the time.  Also, it occurs to me that it is mostly Americans who dress for comfort when travelling.  Everyone else seems to be dressed normal, if not a little on the nice side.  I am consistently amazed by women who travel in skirts and heels, not to mention European men for whom it is socially acceptable to wear scarves and capri pants. It makes me in my sweats and Bard t-shirt feel like a shlub, which, I guess, is what I am. I’m also incurring dirty looks for charging my computer in a wall socket and/or sitting on the floor while I type.  I guess everyone’s just concerned about my ovaries freezing.

Now here’s what concerns me.  Another Fulbrighter from Ohio was supposed to be flying with me starting in Detroit.  I have yet to see him.  Jason, my friend, did you miss your flight?  Or am I days early?  Also, can toothpaste go bad?  I have a travel-sized Crest that tastes strangely of almonds/formaldehyde.

Now, I would like to take this opportunity to say that I resent airports where you can just about connect to the internet, and then after two or three pages it asks for a credit card number.  Just so you know, Mom, I tried to email you, but the Amsterdam airport wouldn’t let me!  Anyway, my next stop is Kiev and hopefully there will be reliable free internet access in the hotel.  If not, that’s why the good lord invented phone cards...

To conclude, I would like to quote a philosophy I just picked up from Don Quixote: “Learn, Sancho, that one man is not more than another unless he achieves more than another.  All those storms that fall upon us are signs that soon the weather will be fair and that things will go smoothly, for it is not possible for evil or good to last forever.  Hence we may infer that as our misfortunes have lasted so long, good fortunes must be near.”

That’s the thing about Don Quixote.  He’s mad, and yet, there’s method in’t.  Anyway, that quote cheers me up on this rainy and aggravating day.  Sally forth!