To Brussels!

“I prefer America” . . . my experience at the Copenhagen airport left me rather disappointed. I realize that I was probably extra cranky because I had been in the air for eight hours, overnight, but our flight delay was miserable. Both Pieter and I were discouraged that our plans changed due to a strike in Belgium.

Once we got off the plane, we searched for a quiet lounge room to contact his family and mine about our safe landing. This airport was incredible, more like a fancy city mall with high-end stores and restaurants all over the place. I thought it was unnecessary. We wound around that entire building probably five times trying to connect with the right people about getting access to some showers and somewhere to sleep.

As we waited, I felt as if someone had beaten me with a club and left me to die a slow death, I was so exhausted and my looks weren’t hiding that fact. Everyone else was so clean, and so skinny, and so nicely dressed. I did not fit in in Europe. I finally realized why my husband dressed the way he does… these people had great style. Americans and Virginians are fine with baggy jeans, a hoody, or a flannel button down... not here.

Clothes were not the only thing that were extravagant and different. After two hours of waiting, the airlines set us up with two taxi tickets, two free hotel lunches, and a hotel room at the Scandinavian hotel. This place was top notch. Neither of us looked like we belonged, two smelly travelers walk into an Indian themed ritzy hotel, desperate for a shower. The lady was kind enough to give us a room with a gorgeous view. The nineteenth floor was nice, but I would have showered anywhere.

Brussels and Belgium was nothing exciting, but then again, I only saw the inside of their airport, and it was 10 o’clock at night. No brussel sprouts or waffles like I expected. Pieter’s grandparents picked us up there and the adventure began!

Restless, waiting to board our flight to Brussels.

Trans-Atlantic Adventure

Pieter and I when we arrived outside Dulles airport. 

At the Dulles airport, waiting to board our plane. Airplanes remind me of whales. Large and terrifying.

Boarding the plane, passport in hand. Everyone else on the plane acted like they did this everyday. I got quite a few stares with all the pictures I took.

Airplane food... bleh.

Very informative screen on our eight hour flight to Copenhagen. It told us how far in the air we were, how long we had been in the air, and how fast we were going.

If it weren’t for the noise from the engine behind me, I think I would forget I was on a plane all together. As we settled into the middle of our flight to watch a movie, the turbulence felt more like bumps on a road and it began to seem as if I were simply on a bus with all of these strangers. But the screen above me told me differently_ going at 642 mph, being 37000 feet above the middle of the Atlantic ocean and in the midst of a -81 degree sky above the clouds reminded me of my reality.



The plane is nice, I chose a middle seat and it’s rather cozy and feels safe. The guys next to us is dead asleep. There is a mysterious compartment beside us that the staff sneak into every now and then. It makes me wonder what they are doing in there. Take off was strange, I’m not a huge fan of leaving earth, it and I have been pretty close for awhile now. As we left the runway I got nervous at the thought of leaving everything I’d known behind. There are kids on the plane, and individuals who dig around in the carry on luggage compartments too long, and a blinking ‘42’ light in front of me that I swore I would smash if it blinked the whole trip.



Another thing that did not improve my mood was the lack of food on this plane. I was terribly hungry. I was handed some warm apple juice from a lady with a kind face and a lovely accent. My main dish with dinner was cream cheese, I downed it like a champ. The mystery dish I was served resembled cheap Chinese food and had very little taste. After pouring the entire salt and pepper packets onto it, I offered it to Pieter.



I do have to say that I would never do this alone and my heart goes out to the people that do. Flying alone would be scary and no fun it seems. Pieter has been a great guide on my trip out of America so far.
My mind cannot even wrap itself around the fact that I will be in another country when I step off this plane. I hope the euphoria and the jetlag don’t take away from me enjoying this once in a lifetime trip.

Four hours and forty-six minutes in the air and I am sick of these surroundings and rock solid seats, but thankful for a smooth flight so far.

Life changing events so far:

• having braces for four years
• moving to college in 2011
• working at Brethren Woods as a camp counselor 
• marrying my wonderful husband on September 13th, 2014

Now it's time for the next big event! Flying out of the country, across the Atlantic... let the adventure begin! 

Hypochondriacal

I did not sleep much last night, just thinking about the trip, the flight mainly. I understand that I am in God’s hands as I charge through the sky in this large aircraft, but to step onto this piece of machinery and trust that it will get you from one place to another place… is crazy. 

As I have anticipated going to the Netherlands this week and put off packing until the last possible minute, I realized that I am a hypochondriac. I haven’t been focusing on the trip, but on my health. If I get sick, we can’t go, so I have been worrying about my health more than anything. I have convinced myself that I will get sick and we won’t be able to go, therefore, in my mind, we’re not going.