My first time in Europe, and the stories are true. After a sleepless plane ride made worse by a Nyquil-induced mini-trip and the painful experience of watching the first 20 min of "Miracle at St. Anna," we landed at Schipol airport, all 80 of us, and stumbled through customs into a rainy Amsterdam. My half hour stay in there was a blur of American fast food signs, Mercedes taxis, and street signs that seemed to be written in baby talk. I walked up the stairs of the bus, flopped into the front row of seats, and fell asleep. "Oh look" "Wow" Those who were awake had recognized the little town of Well, and I knew we were close. The bus dropped us off in front of a little brick bridge, and down the foggy path I
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