I keep writing up posts that go along the lines of "OMG I leave in XX days!!!! I'm so ExCiTeD wait I'm really nervous but can I just be in Germany already wahhh I love this make it stop!" Each one is promptly deleted because the tone at the beginning never matches that at the end and the middle bit just makes me sound violently bipolar.
I've come to realize though that this is just the way I feel right now. Depending on the day and even on the hour I feel different emotions about leaving and going. I need to make it clear that these are two very different things. Going always has good emotions even if there is some anxiety. Leaving on the other hand slips through my fingers every time I try to pick up on the exact emotion it excites. I have definitely left any indifference far behind. I am sad to be leaving my friends, but I have their assurance that I won't be forgotten and I know that they'll be here for me when I return as well as emotionally supportive even while I'm away. My family will be just fine without me no matter what some of them seem to think and there will probably be so many letters home the only difference will be all the extra time available in the shower. But leaving still isn't all bad because in doing so, I will be discarding any labels that I have accumulated over the years and arriving in Germany with a clean foundation to build myself on. Though as I write this, I wonder if that really should be labeled as a "going" feeling. You see what I mean by the blog changing directions?
Well no matter, that doesn't change the fact that I am leaving in a mere 13 days! That's right, I have my ticket all set for 10 pm on July 31st. From there I fly to Amsterdam, have a two hour lay over and then an hour flight to Bremen where I will be greeted by my host family at 2:30 in the afternoon on August 1st. I don't actually fly well truth be told and it just so happens that flying between Detroit and Amsterdam was the first time that I threw up on a plane.
*Skip this story if you are of feint heart or queasy stomach* (okay it's not that bad and you will miss some laughs but skip if you must)
To start with, I get motion sick pathetically easily. Like say I ride in a particularly fast elevator. Afterwards I have to sit down for a minute to stop walking in crooked lines. Yeah, it's bad. So of course there wasn't a single barf bag on my first transatlantic 7 hour flight. I hardly thought about it though because I'd felt fine the entire time, fully enjoying all that the awesome built in TV had to offer, as well as the new delicacy of "Plane Food" . Unfortunately, as we started to descend and the pressure changed, so did my brand new opinion on in flight meals. After about infinity plus 1 hours I felt the longed for bump of wheels hitting the tarmac and I thought to myself, "I'm saved!". Alas, I rejoiced too soon for I still could not run to the bathroom because the captain hadn't turned off the seat belt sign. Now you may be thinking that my needs outranked the little glowing light above my head and in this thinking, you would be wrong. 12-year-old Mary had had the authority of seat belt signs drilled into her since the early age of 2. I knew in no uncertain terms that walking while the light was on would cause the spontaneous combustion and immediate drop of the plane from the sky along with the death of every person on-board. It didn't matter that the plane was driving around already ON the ground, I was not about to be responsible for the deaths of all those people. Now I'm not trying to sound like a hero, I only did what any wonderful self-sacrificing person would do. I leaned over the side of my chair and threw up all over the isle that half a Boeing 747 needed to walk down to get out of the plane. Within seconds the suddenly attentive Lufthansa flight attendant swooped down from behind and nabbed my blanket from me. I watched her deftly fold it up and gracefully lay it across the isle were it magically blended into the blue/grey carpeting. The large man across from me never even looked up from the computer he had just turned back on. I then sat there and watched the whole back of the plane exit unknowingly over my first in flight meal.
*End story*
So if you read that paragraph, you now understand why I'm not thrilled to be returning to Amsterdam. For those of you who heeded my warning and skipped it, just know that it involved the red light district, high speed trams, a missing passport, and an uncomfortably large amount of Swiss cheese. I trust your imagination can fill in the rest for you and now you also know why I'm not thrilled to be returning to Amsterdam. Luckily, I already found a few other exchange students who I will meet up with for the flight to Bremen so even if I am a little out of it in the airport, I should make it all the way to Bremen. Less than two weeks seems so soon, next time I post here, I very well might be in Germany! Crazy ehh?
~M
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