Travel is a strange phenomenon; something about the size of the world in relation to the speed of our projectile transit models. After little sleep, and much inebriation and celebration with friends as I bid my farewells to Los Angeles friends and family, I slept a few hours on the plane, spent a few hours watching The Book Thief, and suddenly I was looking out on the Copehnagen landscape, clouds suffocating greenery, houses sparsley nestled among ancient farm plots, spots of water, the occasional large structures, and then runway...and then hallway, and the breezeway, and then a sign that said "Last chance for a beer in Denmark." I had one of those beers, staring out the windows at Copenhagens edges, watching the Danes march up and down terminal coridors, heading off to whatever sunsets and embraces they long for. They gave me my first international passport stamp here, passing between Terminal C and Terminal A. It was a truly amazing feeling. And soon it would be time to leave.
The small, red nosed plane left a few hours later bound across the Norweigian Sea for Dutch shores and Amsterdamn lights. It was a quick little flight, about 2 hours, and upon landing it took all of 12 minutes to walk from the plane to the arrival gate where, smle at the ready, my girlfriend Thalia was waiting to greet me. It was a long anticipated moment, and it didin't disappoint. The kiss soft, expectant; the eyes enveloping, happy; those around us smiling with appreciation for the intimacy of our hello, most likely aware of that same feeling of reunion. There was hugging, and arranging of luggage, and walking which felt like a movie where everything in the background rushes by in a alf blur, half haze mash because I was only looking at her and where my feet were...
I met her parents, Farida and Willem, for the first time in the next few minutes, over terrible coffee, in a populated little airport restaurant called La Place. The mother, ever slight and with warm smile, the father a giant near 2 meters and at ease with an easy smile and laugh and hearty handshake. It was a good first meeting, the kind I'd wished for past relations and the kind I'm glad to have for this one; the kind of first meeting that makes you feel like it will all work out. The drive home--how odd it is to say "home" about a place newly arrived to--was maybe 40 minutes, lovely by all accounts. Of course, a new land will look lovely to most new eyes. The clouds, the green, the houses, the graffiti...
And that was my first day. I unpacked a bit later, had a drink at a couple of local bars with my girl, after her parents went home, and went to bed in my new bed. It was all rather perfect.
Until next post. JD
