Advertisement
Published: October 8th 2009
Edit Blog Post
I left Boston a month ago today. I'm always aware of how long I've been gone because this is a question I am asked constantly when meeting a new person. At home, you shake hands with a stranger and within a few minutes you're usually asked about your occupation. Here, it's a question of the length of your travel. But in reality, does it feel like a month? When I think about the places I've been - from Iceland to Norway to Sweden to Denmark and now, in Germany - I suppose it should. But in reality, it feels like just a week.
Here's where the confession comes in. Before I left, I was scared %$+#less. My mom hinted around the question while my sister, Sue, just outright asked me. At that point it was a lot easier to lie than actually think about it (sorry, sister.) Dan drove me to the Orange Line the night I was headed to catch my flight. "I'm so excited for your trip," he told me. I finally confessed that he may have been more excited than I was. I had a lot of questions... languages, logistics, alone. If you were around me in
the week or two before I left (God bless you), between moving, packing and getting things in order, you know I carried a lot of stress. This is very different from my life of having things planned and prepared, for the most part. I guess this in itself was another reason I needed to go on this trip - learning to deal with these stresses, learning that even away from those places that I'm most comfortable, there is very little that can be considered the end of the world. And this is what I've learned.
I feel very fortunate for the way things progressed. Reykjavik was small and manageable on foot. I spent a few hours filled with stress in Oslo, only to feel as if I could easily navigate the city within a day. I arrived in Bergen without a place to stay, considered returning on the overnight train to Oslo, but ended up staying and exploring the charming city for three days. Honefoss was an unexpected surprise, as were Simon, Ingi, Oscar and Selma. The days I spent there were so relaxing that it felt as if I was visiting a sister and her family, welcoming and
at home. My trip to Copenhagen was too short, but quite a contrast from where I had been - fast, bright and bustling. By the time I left, I felt like I was just another regular at a bar.
At some point the issue of language dissipated. I can count a handful of people who did not speak English and have yet to meet any who was simply unwilling. Oddly, when I'm in line for some sort of service, the tourists in front of me are immediately addressed in English, however when I make it to the front, I'm greeted in an avalanche of native words, followed by profuse apologies once I expose myself as an impostor from another country. Every time I worry about finding my way from one place to another, I just think about how much of a mess the MBTA is back home and how much more hopeless that must seem for someone whose first language isn't English. You always occupy the space where you stand, you're always *someplace* and you'll always find your way back eventually. Truth be told, transportation is far easier here than back home (this sentiment was shared by an Australian
girl I met last night, with regard to her home.)
As for being alone, I can't say I've felt this way often... and when I do, my Ipod seems to have a way of solving everything 😊 I appreciate the flexibility of being able to go where I want to go, when I want to go there. I enjoy meeting other people, rather than constantly feeling permanently connected in conversation to someone else I would be traveling with. And quite honestly, I've had very little time alone. Sometimes I feel as if my life is scripted, like someone is constantly watching and ensuring my path crosses a select group of people. Sometimes it's their generosity that overwhelms me, other times it's the stories that they share. I suppose this is no different than the way I feel through much of my life, home or away, but perhaps it's this familiarity in unfamiliar places that illuminates things. If I was sappy, I'd say this is all my father's watching and doing, but... well. I guess I am a little soft, so we'll just leave it at that.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.068s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 8; qc: 23; dbt: 0.0465s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb