I decided months ago I was not going to spend my entire summer in a social coma dressed in my pyjamas 24-7, sitting in bed, a Linda Blair-Cyndi Lauper hybrid, yet again watching the complete series of Doctor Who on my laptop. (Though I really do love Doctor Who – #10 David Tennant that is.)
Soon I leave for big city, in a few more days I depart for the land of windmills, wooden shoes, and pot smoking, and then The UK. I have had mixed feeling about my 6 months stay here in the homeland. Aside from the depressing, frustrating, and creatively stifling life in this ‘urban hemorrhoid (aka my hometown in Canada), I now realize how much I have missed my close friends from Big City. But as much as I want to be close to them I know trying to live here would be nothing more than a far-gone square-peg/round-hole epic waste of time and road to nowhere. There is so much happening – an entire world out there waiting, with fascinating people, things I have never experienced, and a life far less ordinary to live.
I’ve made it! Quasi glitch-free. I think I must be getting better at this… dealing with the uncertainty of travelling, late flights, heavy baggage, customs issues, knowing anything can happen and never knowing if what I find when I get there is really what I am expecting. (It rarely is.)
I first arrived to a gray and drizzling Rotterdam, complete with an assortment of bumps and bruises from attempts at lugging my cumbersome backpack wedged into a dis-assembled dog crate secured with bungee cords on to a luggage caddy.
There I was, ‘Super-Traveller meets Quasimodo’ trying to control a dog on a leash, flipping my bangs away from my eyes, while struggling up and down stairs and sidewalk curbs, then onto escalators – along with carrying hand luggage with any other free appendage… and like a star. (The ‘doe-eyed female’ look can b=very effectively recruiting help ie. an extra hand during those tough trapped-in-the-turnstyle situations.)
My attempt at travelling light, effortlessly – EPIC fail.
I have dubbed myself ’The World’s Most Cumbersome Traveller.’
I suppose it could have been worse.
Considering the weather conditions I spent most of my 2 dreary days there, indoors while snacking on ‘stroop waffels,’ battling bouts of jet lag as opposed to tip-toeing through any tulips, or taking advantage of The Netherland’s liberal pot-smoking regulations via their urban centres’ smoking venues, and of course thinking about THIS…
The Dutch dare to ask their own, and this wandering Canadian…
I actually had bought an adequate supply of bananas at a nearby supermarket just before I came across this retailer, however I wondered about the ‘S-word’ and what would happen when I finally got to The UK. Would Sir English and I pick up where we left off and eventually ‘go there?’ Would our chemistry have withered since we last saw each other a month before? If it were to be become a possibility, would I end up being disoriented and clumsy from lack of practice? It’s been at least 10 months since – that being Mr. Frozen Vegetable. (An epic disaster last summer in Italy that lasted a mere pointless 15 seconds.)
I suppose if I don’t get myself and Miss Big-Paws on that ferry destined for Harwich, UK where he is picking me up in a few hours…
I’ll never find out.