Today was a grand day of adventuring. I woke up and got ready to go downtown - today was going to be devoted to learning how to use the buses and getting a bike. As it so happens, I now have not one, but two bikes, which is just fine by me, as I wanted a second one for when friends come to visit anyway. One bike was free:
This bike came to me from a previous Fulbrighter. Which was very nice of him.
The second bike I bought from a very friendly Dutch fellow (who, I am very proud to say, I spoke with almost entirely in Dutch, during which I managed to tell him about how I am doing research on children with ADHD), for 55 euro. Which was an excellent deal. Also something Siri helped me with. The amazing-ness of that woman never ends.
While waiting for aforementioned man to get home, I stumbled upon this incredible graveyard/park:
Yes, her name was Wilhelmina Hamburger. Delicious, delicious family.
I just thought that little sun was so pretty.
Today also included a delightful adventure using the buses (if you are the only person at the bus stop, apparently you have to flag the bus driver down or they will just keep going...), getting a bus card (which I feel so super sophisticated using, because you just like, tap it on the little pad thing when you get on and off the bus, and it's like, "Hallo Mevrouw Lupas!" "Tot ziens Mevrouw Lupas!"
I wandered around the center of Utrecht for a while today, looking for the first bike. It was...interesting. Oh, and it was raining all day long. I was thrilled, THRILLED that I had the foresight to buy a rain suit. My pants and my top all stayed nice and dry. It was like a small miracle. And it was WONDERFUL. Hopefully there will be some actual sun this week.Because otherwise, I'm just going to look like this all the time:
Hot. Literally. It's like being a human sausage. Dry but stuffy.
I'm thoroughly enjoying my stay thus far, and look forward to many more excellent adventures in the weeks to come. :)
I am in Utrecht, safe and sound, well-rested, and expecting the last of my bags to arrive any moment. But more on that later.
Getting the airport was a hoot - except for the part where I was crying, and my mom was crying, and my dad was crying, as we parted ways. But my family and I arrived to the airport almost four hours early. Needless to say, I was good and ready when I got up to the counter. Both my bags made it (weight-wise) which I had been worried about, so that was a huge plus. And let me tell you something. I shoved those bags full, in order to have my carry on (my backpacking pack) have only 13 pounds in it - the IcelandAir requirement for a carry-on. And did IcelandAir ever check that carry-on? That's right. Never. Not once. Ever. In fact, I never even had a chance for IcelandAir to check my bags because the minute I set foot in DC (where I was connecting to my first IcelandAir flight) I went to the IcelandAir counter, the nice man asked if I was the young lass from Cleveland, I said yes, and he made sure my checked bags were good to get on the IcelandAir plane. Did he want to check my carry-on? Of course not. Did other people have carry-ons that looked like they contained a small part of Fort Knox? Of course they did. In other words, a lot of anxiety and re-packing for naught. Oh, well. Complaining about things that work out to your advantage is unbecoming.
In the DC airport, after obtaining my IcelandAir tickets, I ate this thing.
That, my friends, is a giant plate of waffle fries covered in chili and cheese. It was, as they say, AMAZING.
Extremely healthy and well-balanced dinner consumed, I waited for the Iceland plane. By some sad circumstance, I got the middle seat of a three seat row. I thought I booked a window seat, but who knows. Sitting in the middle seat on an overnight, transatlantic flight is, as many of you are probably aware, EXTREMELY comfortable. As in one of the worst experiences you will ever have, ever. It is uncomfortable, you're exhausted, and if you are like me, you are probably drugged (dramamine, people), making the whole experience that much more surreal and painful. And I sat next to this guy, who, first of all, was taking a weekend trip with two of his lady friends to Iceland. That's upwards of $5,000 for a weekend trip. And he didn't seem to have a sense of humor. He would even say things that were funny, but he never really smiled or laughed at his own jokes. He talked to me a little bit about my trip, etc., but then, when I tried to get some sleep, every time I would kind of flutter my eyes open, he would be right there, and he would be like, "Are you okay? You seem to be really restless." When he said that, I just wanted to die. Like, dear God, it's not bad enough I am stuck in this small, crunched, uncomfortable position, but now I have to be questioned about why I don't like it by some fool from DC who's taking a weekend trip to Iceland? He continued his strange questioning, in response to my semi-hostile and exhausted glare by saying, "I mean, you really shouldn't be that nervous about moving, you know? Just chill out, meditate maybe?" At which point I just closed my eyes and resumed my fight with my small 2 foot wide space to sleep in.
Landing in Reykjavik was wonderful, though. We landed just as sunrise was occurring, and Iceland is beautiful, even if it is completely barren for the most part. There was so much open space - and off in the distance, across this giant lake, were mountains. There were steam vents everywhere, piping smoke into the chilly morning. It was like going to the moon.
I briefly considered buying food at the airport before I realized I was just too tired and pooped to ask people how many Kroner or whatever were worth one euro. Customs, by the way, was completely fine - a very short line, but they make you go through a metal detector to get into the country. Does that seem a little odd to you? I mean, we were a flight from the US, so we all had to go through US security to even get into the airport we came from...I don't know. Perhaps it's for flights from other countries. All the IcelandAir flights had these little advertisements on the TVs that said things like, "The most amazing thing about Iceland isn't the beautiful abundance of waterfalls, or the fact that 99% of our energy comes from renewable resources...It's that the Prime Minister's phone number is listed in the phone book." They were funny, I liked them. But they reflected how small the country is - so maybe that's why they have super-bizarre security.
The flight from Reykjavik to Amsterdam went off without a hitch, too. I sort of half-slept my way through that flight as well. Though I think I did wake up long enough to ask for a bag of gummy bears...
In Amsterdam, there were nice big signs that directed me to the baggage line, and the whole time I was walking I was praying, "Dear God, let them have my bags, just let them have my bags." As it turned out (The baggage claim area was a hectic hot mess) they only had one of my bags. Which was okay, though I was so exhausted when I went over to the lady to make a lost baggage claim, I was sobbing with frustration. That lost bag is on its way to me as we speak (I just got the call that IcelandAir had found it about two hours ago), and so I feel much better about the whole thing.
After the baggage fiasco, my wonderful, WONDERFUL friend Siri came and picked me up at the airport. Now, a few words about this little lady. Not only did she pick me up at the airport, but she and my other friend from the lab, Juliette, took me out to dinner, coffee, and dessert, and Siri took me to both Ikea, and the grocery, just to help me get set up in Utrecht. They made getting here easy, and stress-less, and I just can't thank them enough.
On a side-note, on our way home, Siri and I did get amazingly lost in these sketchy, terrifying back alleys, where cars had just parked every which way, and we had no idea where we were, and we almost got hit several times as people came hurtling down one way roads right towards our car, but all in all, getting to Utrecht was great! Ha.
After we got back to my new house, I unpacked the one bag that did make it here on time, and below is a video tour of my new house, and my room with bags unpacked. Enjoy!
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse... the children were nestled, all snug in their beds, while visions of sugerplums danced in their heads!
I wish. Actually, I'm tooling around emailing, IM-ing, and generally trying to keep my mind off of the jillion and a half things that are going to happen tomorrow. Namely, four different flights. Also: rechecking my bags in DC onto IcelandAir, the people who have the sweetest accents in the world. Really. I've called IcelandAir maybe...three times recently? And every time, some sweet-sounding young woman gets on the phone with an accent that sounds British but more crisp and sweet (kind of like Iceland itself) and every time, I just want to pour my soul out to her as she reassures me that everything will be fine, that my reservation is affirmed, that my bags won't cost anything, that I will have enough time to go through customs. Oh, IcelandAir lady. Would that you could just have everything arranged for me the same way you've arranged my flight details. "Yes, ma'am, of course your graduate school application has been accepted. You'll be granted a full teaching assistanceship, effective immediately. We're also giving you a sweet little house nestled in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains! Enjoy!" And then she would ring a bell like the Icelandic fairy princess she actually is, and it would be DONE. Beautiful.
As it so happens, I have to make those things happen for myself, which I suppose is alright by me. For now, having the flight details worked out is good enough.
I got my hair cut today, and the lady who was cutting it (she owns the salon, so it was one of those really relaxed hair cuts where you're just like, "You're going to do an excellent job, and I don't have to worry about it at all. Hooray!") was talking to me about traveling, and she asked how I manage to be so calm about international travel. I told her that it has a lot to do with experience, and having some crappy things happen to you (like the time I got stopped at customs in Houston for my 1 oz. bottle of moonshine) that you learn from (whooo-day, I'mma nevuur bringin' muh moonshine through this here gate no muur, galdawnit, that's fo sho'!). In actuality, though, here is how I manage to be calm about international travel: I wear nice clothes, I'm polite, organized and patient, and I pretend I'm a wood-elf. Yes. That's what I said. A wood-elf. Wood-elves are strong, brave, and graceful, and can effortlessly leap from boulder to boulder across wide rivers. If you think I am kidding, think again. Pretending to be a wood-elf means you are constantly aware of your surroundings, formal, but not easily pushed-over, strong and capable. When I am a wood-elf I am also at the top of my game for all my taekwondo self defense, I move quickly and efficiently through all security and airports, and I am the master of foreign train stations. See? Wood elves are boss.
I will let you all know how traveling goes (in actuality) tomorrow, as I embark on this two-day long voyage abroad. I am young, and full of life , and I am getting paid to move to Europe! Egads.
Well, I was contemplating switching to a wordpress blog, because I like the fact that both Savannah and Steph have click-able links on their blogs, but after wading through wordpress's damn website for about an hour and a half, I decided to give up out of sheer frustration. Perhaps I was just simply not meant to have a fancy, complex blog. Maybe when I'm less frustrated and murderous, I'll go back and see what I can do with it. Until then, this is officially the Holland-blog!
And, more specifically, me winning the Fulbright. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I was featured in an article in the Honor's Tutorial College's spring version of the alumni magazine, Ampersand. It's pretty spanky, if you ask me. Thanks to Jessie Cadle for writing it up, yo. :)
Well, two years after starting the long and difficult process of applying for the Fulbright, I have won it and am officially moving to Utrecht on August 25th!
Everyone keeps asking me how I felt when I won it - honestly, a big mixture of thrilled, relieved, and terrified/sad. Well, doesn't that just cover the spectrum of feelings! When I got the letter, I woke up two of my roommates with my screaming, so obviously I was thrilled. But it's also nine months away from my family and friends, and that's going to be rough. I've decided to replace my family with bike rides and bread, which don't make me laugh quite as much, but there you go, in order to be successful, sacrifices must be made. ;)
For those of you who don't know, I am living in a beautiful Monument House with a couple who are classical musicians. I'll include a link of my room here, and maybe some pictures of the house when I get there! I have a bike (that's how everyone gets around in the Netherlands) and I'll be taking an intensive language course for the first three months of my stay, MWF, from 9-12. I'll be going into the lab in the afternoons to work on my project, which is measuring brain activation in children (boys ages 8-16) with ADHD during a reward processing task. I'm sure I'll write more about the project later. I'm nervous and very, very excited to start this trip. Please come along with me!
Everyone always says this is a tumultuous time of life. I wonder if they couldn't find a better way to describe it. Like, they could have said, your whole life will be completely revolutionized during this time, or, be prepared to withstand pressures, passions, problems, and pains that you've never come across before, that you may never experience again, yet which will redefine how you look at yourself, your world, and the people around you. I'm a terrible poet. However, were there a decent one to find, he would be the man for the job. Poet's have a way of taking complex ideas and making them simplistically beauitful, meaningful, and enagaging. I have a good friend, who is now a house-mate of mine, who is a math major. She is an incredible woman. She is fascinated by the interplay of poetry and math, and wishes to find some kind of harmony between the two. How cool is that?? She would be the kind of person who could take my ineptitude with language and find a way to express this complexity of emotions, commonly known as maturity and wisdom.
I think getting back into blogging may be good for me. Like the title implies, there is far too much that I cannot process without the aid of a page or a keyboard at my disposal. Fascinating fact - speaking to my boyfriend only last night, we both examined the idea that we need to be spurred into discussion of hard topics, and asked uncomfortable questions, in order to understand things we may not have known about ourselves. I shall digress here, then.
I found this in my freshmen year of college, staying up till all hours of the night, laughing, yes, but often simply and respectfully questioning one another's beliefs. Nothing has ever lead to faster growth for me, or for more personal introspection and shock, when I realized how often I would simply state someone else's beliefs, instead of my own. I suppose, this is an exhortation for hard questions. Don't let the fear of an answer drive your decision to enter into a discussion. Language fails me again. There are caveats to this statement. One man will look at it and say, that tells me to be violent! Passionate! In people's faces, more or less, convincing, questioning, eating away. Another man will look at this and see what I hope I see - the need for humility and love to join the questioning. I suppose that was covered in the beginning - don't ask a question expecting an answer. Unless, of course, you're proposing, in which case, we all think it would be better if you knew the general idea of the answer. If you ask a question rearing to debate, you're not approaching the situation with humility. You're arrogantly placing your burden, of judgement towards a desired decision, upon someone else. I don't know about you, but that's not what I'm called to do.
So many people are hurt. Many are angry because of it, many are bitter, or resigned, or apathetic. I have come across all kinds. You don't realize how far you push away people if you come to a conversation with an agenda. If you're an even mildly intuitive person, you will notice if someone you are talking to begins to edge away. I'm sometimes repulsed when people approach me, and I know that there is a point they want to get across right away, underneath their concern for my welfare, my state of life. It's unsettling to be so highly scrutinized by someone I don't know very well. It doesn't provide the setting for a deeper relationship to form. I thought we were in this (as Christians) for the relationship! I'm so upset over corner-box messages, preached and delivered in a fashion that, at the very least, makes me feel inferior and idiotic, for not grasping at some claim they purport to be absolute truth.
I hate speaking to people who have been forever turned away from what I might say to them because of militaristic Christianity. I have been told that I am soft, ill-founded, wishy-washy, and uncommitted, to be unwilling to adopt that "evangelical" message myself. I refuse to believe it. People deserve to meet someone who is compassionate, and who doesn't come across as an arrogant, know-it-all, Jesus-fan-club member, out to getcha, dirty sinner.
WWJD? There have been a lot of stones thrown. Seeing as, from what I've heard, none of us are blameless, I would appreciate a little more of what Jesus was the perfect embodiment - humility. I want to see the kind of love that works through relationships and service unto others.
