Herfst (Autumn)

On December 14th, 2014 I flew out of the country for the very first time. The day before our flight, I cried in my husbands arms because I was so nervous about the journey we had ahead of us.

Eight months later, here I am! For those of you that see me around Arnemuiden or have spent time with me in the months I have been in Europe I must admit, the main emotion I feel most days is fear. I want people here to understand that when I am quiet and reserved, I am taking everything in_ the conversation, the routines, facial expressions and tone of voice, the food, and the surroundings. It is all very overwhelming for me. Even though I have been a part of this country's cultural differences for almost three months total now, the differences still take some getting used to.

I grew up in the small town of Woodstock, Virginia. The state of Virginia is 110,786 square kilometers in size. It has half the population as the entire country of the Netherlands (8 million compared to 16 million).The country I come from, America, has a population of 319 million. All this to say, I am used to something so much different. 

Recently, the biggest cultural difference I have had to embrace is my change in transportation. If a person is seen biking alongside of the road in most parts of Virginia it means one of three things 1) He is one of those tree-hugger types, saving the earth from pollution! 2) He's a poor college age student who is too proud for public transportation. 3) He's a middle-aged man trying to get some exercise. Biking here in the Netherlands is the norm. I can bike, I am actually pretty good at it. My dad taught me how to when I was six years old. It was purely for recreational purposes and I loved biking in the backyard as a kid. But having to rely on it as my main source of getting one place to another is a little intimidating_ having to stop mid-cycle for traffic, biking through pouring down rain, or carrying large boxes and bags on the back of this small piece of metal, while impressive, is not ideal for me. 

Bikes at Middelburg train station

In the five months I was back in America this year, multiple people asked me how the weather was in the Netherlands. My response was always that it was the same in both countries. After being back here in the summertime, I can honestly say that summers here are not nearly as hot as they are in America! Arnemuiden is near the sea, so there is a nice breeze blowing through on most days. Temperatures fall in between low 60's and low 70's usually, with little to no humidity!

With the changing of seasons coming upon us, my heart begins to miss home. Back at home, autumn is spent buying back to school supplies, soaking up those last evenings of late sunshine, curling up under a wool blanket at a football game, sipping on watered down hot chocolate, and getting excited that first time you see your breath fog up in the cool night air! For me, while spring is all about new life and new beginnings, I believe that fall time is about closeness_ preparing for that long cold winter. Comfy sweaters, candles that smell as if you could eat them for dessert, crockpots full of homemade food, and baking cookies. To me, fall is about family and coming home. 

Blue Ridge Mountains in the fall_ my home. 

This fall, I face a new beginning, new traditions, and new memories to be made. Pieter and I just recently began renting a small apartment in a larger village. We have gotten quite resourceful with making spaces our own and living with a little as we have gone through this experience. As September creeps in quickly I anticipate celebrating our one year wedding anniversary, I look forward to a trip to Germany and Austria (thank you Oma and Opa), and I am blessed to be with my husband for his 28th birthday! Here's to whatever else might be lying up ahead for Lydia and Pieter Tramper this coming season!

Pieter and I at a family barbecue

I Have Returned!

Last Wednesday I drove on the backroads of Woodstock a little slower than I usually do, taking it all in. I was not sure when the next time would be that I would drive on those hills or pass those familiar landmarks. The day was not as stressful as I thought it would be. Evening came and my suitcase remained empty. My mom made one of my favorite dinners and a delicious apple pie. This was my last meal in America for a while.

My brother, strong football player that he is, weighed my humongous suitcase in at 47 pounds. I was relieved and amazed that it was under the airlines weight requirements. My dad helped me carry my luggage out to his car the next afternoon. My heart tightened as I walked to the car, the uncertainty of when I would be back loomed in the air as we pulled out of the driveway.

Finally on my way back to my husband, I felt comfortable in that little car. But the realization that I would soon be in another form of transportation, surrounded by strangers, made my stomach drop. I did not want the car ride to end. 

The airport was all too familiar, too many memories of goodbyes, tears shed, and hopeful anticipation of past journeys once ventured. Strangely enough, I found myself smiling at everyone I passed once I got down to security. I told myself not to get excited about my reuniting with Pieter until I was actually close. I was anxious for the security checks, bus rides, and boarding pass scans to all be over. All I wanted was to be in his arms again, but this is what I had to go through to get there. 

My first flight went smoothly, I would not say it was enjoyable, but it was not unpleasant. The middle hour and the last hour are always the worst of any flight. Three and a half hours in I thought the flight would never end. At the seventh hour, the pilot announced that we would be landing soon and that all passengers needed to prepare, this was thirty minutes before landing. Those thirty minutes were the longest in my life and my facial expression showed it. I had run out of things to do to pass the time and I wanted to be off that plane.

I spent the majority of flight number two paranoid that I was on the wrong flight. The stewardesses were wearing strange uniforms I had never seen before and the static on the planes intercom made it difficult to hear flight details from the pilot. I had no idea where I would end up. No one around me spoke English and I felt foolish to ask anyways. After barely making this flight because I was in the bathroom and having lost six hours of my life while I was in the air, I think I was just delusional.

My arrival in Amsterdam simply could not come fast enough. I allowed myself to get excited the last twenty minutes of the flight and I reviewed all I needed to do upon landing and entering the third airport of the day. I was in my own little world as I dashed to baggage claim. As I waited to retrieve my 47 pound suitcase, I watched the belt go around with the same three suitcases nearly twenty times. After a bathroom break, I came back, spotted my luggage, and was on my way through those doors to my husband. I was thrilled and exhausted. My heart felt whole again as we embraced. Too much time had gone by without him by my side. I talked his ear off the whole way to Rotterdam. :)

Being back in America for five months, I had gotten comfortable. The bustle of Rotterdam greeted me with unfamiliar and unfriendly faces, dozens of strange foreign languages, and a reminder that things are very different here. It was overwhelming. Trudging through the city streets with my suitcases in tow was the highlight of my trip across the pond. I needed sleep in a comfy bed and a nice shower. Once we finally checked into our hotel, priorities had changed, that had turned into only needing sleep. Let the week of jetlag begin!

Date night to see 'Jurassic World' in Rotterdam