I have been waiting for the right time to share more of my travels with you. Something about writing, you have to be in the right frame of mind to do it right and well and I've been rather out of sorts the last few weeks.
My least favorite part of flying is landing. Next to landing is taxiing. Upon arrival to Amsterdam, I was not feeling well. Actually most of the flight I was not feeling well. I'll assume it was the sweaty, stressful marathon in Washington. We taxied for 20+-are-you-kidding-me minutes to the gate. Even upon approach they mentioned how far away we would be from the airport and how long it would take for us to get there. I needed to get off the plane. I needed fresh air.
Customs was a breeze and I was hoping to find Ryan by the Burger King as he said he would be. I didn't have much cell battery or international service so winging it, I was. He was there. With flowers. (and a Coke Light which is NOT a Diet Coke) I am such a girl. And my husband knows it. I carted those flowers from hotel to hotel and I even brought one purple bloom home with me. It now resides in my Bible where all the precious items are kept.
I stayed up all the first day watching TV in Dutch and occasionally finding a show in English; nope, not Castle, of course, but Truckers take Manhatten in case you were wondering. Fascinating. Riveting stuff. Truly. I might have snoozed a minute or two. Don't tell Ryan. One thing I learned quite quickly from the first day in the first hotel, is that 1) there is little privacy in Europe and 2) the elevators are SO tiny. I mean two suitcases, two book bags, one giant and one dwarf and that is ALL you will fit, but alas, no, three more friends want to join you and join you they will. (smh….huh uh...I ain't doin it. Can I decline you entering? Is it rude to mash the "close door" button like it's my job?) As for the privacy, two hotels where we stayed had glass bathrooms. GLASS bathrooms. Everything is clear. Literally. Could I have like 3.6 minutes alone? Or is that too much to ask? There is nowhere to hide, y'all, nowheres.
We enjoyed such warm and wonderful hospitality by our former boss in the comfort of her home. A simple and lovely meal was served; something I would like to try to emulate. The Dutch have mastered the art of entertaining in simplicity. Soup, bread, spirits, coffee and conversation. The hours passed so quickly and I do mean hours....we might have overstayed our welcome, but the conversation flowed so easily and it was so peaceful. I got props from her children when they heard I tried a frinkendel (it's like fried sausage) and fries with mayonnaise. That's right, fried dipped in mayonnaise. A Dutch treat. I got to see the ASML home campus and we escaped The Netherlands without killing any bikers which is no small task. They be zipping around like they own the planet. So.many.bikers. Doesn't anyone take a car anymore?!
Berlin was SO enjoyable. It truly was a highlight of my trip even though it was a big, smelly city. History beckons around every corner and I was enthralled with all of it. We toured an underground bunker which incidentally is just off the subway line. You could hear the trains underneath you and it absolutely sounded like airplanes above you. You could easily put yourself in the place of those here before. It must have been so scary. Cool artifacts were in cases - Nazi uniform pins, helmets, artwork from the Nazi perspective, games. Our tour guide was phenomenal - definitely go if you have the chance. It must be said that I had the most amazing hamburger in Berlin! Maybe the best one I have ever eaten. I'm okay with eating "American" in Germany because Burgermeister was worth it. Right here, right now, I'm going to drop a truth bomb. The traffic is ridiculous. Not like a little ridiculous, whew it was rough, but like what-in-the-heck-are-these-friends-doing ridiculous. I knew I was going to be in good hands when my husband got me through Berlin safely.
We stayed the least amount of time in the Czech Republic. And here is where we almost met Jesus face-to-face. From the front desk of the hotel we received information on getting to the old town and we were able to purchase tickets for the public transit as well. They called a driver to take us to the tram station which was about a ten minute drive. He rounded the corner and abruptly stopped and dumped us off on the side of the road. (I don't think he "had much English" and I have zero Czech.) We found the tram station and off we went on our journey. Prague: Old Town is more than you hope or imagine it will be. Architecture, culture, sounds, flavors...you know this is the place for dreams and writing. The statues on St. Charles bridge whisper and beckon you toward shadow, toward quiet, the soft lights shine on the water and the street musicians transport your soul to another time. When we left old town behind us we missed our tram stop. No matter how hard you try, public transport in a different language is tricky. We didn't have to wait long for the next tram and soon we found ourselves on the same familiar side of the road waiting for our young driving friend. He did not, however, make the same return trip to the hotel; instead, he made a left turn when we expected he would take a right turn and we headed down a bumpy road. As we passed by the "end of the line" bus stop, I thought we must be picking up other guests who had chosen to take the bus to old town. Nope. We headed straight off the road into the bushes. The driver seemed to have little care for the vehicle as we hit every single hole known to man. I looked through the windshield and I saw only trees whipping the glass. I started giggling uncontrollably because I knew we were about to die in the Czech Republic. No one really knew our itinerary, no one knew which hotel we were at. No one would call to check up on us for a week. Good gracious how did we even know this guy worked for the hotel? How did we put our trust in complete strangers to care for us and get us to where we needed to be? I twisted the ring on my finger and considered he might take that... It might be worth some Czech crowns. We headed up the mountain, rapidly, ruts and holes, zero suspension and then whipped around a corner....to our hotel. We threw some tip money at him and bolted. I giggled the whole way to our room. And breathed a sigh of relief.
I begin to consider anew what "winging it" looks like. It looks like death on the outskirts of Prague with your best friend. I know for the tenth time in four days that this adventure is completely random. It is intimidating. And each moment is indelibly imprinted.
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