Tuesday, June 13, 2023
6:20 am
Amsterdam, Netherlands
This is the beginning of day two of my solo journey. To say that it has been challenging is an understatement. At first, I didn’t feel like writing, nor sharing with anyone via phone, text, or social media because of what I’m going through. As I lay in my hotel bed listening to nothing – the silence is blissful, I told myself that it is time to forgive myself. For what? Well, for having some of the feelings I’m experiencing. They include doubt, fear, worry, and admittedly a little shame.
Before getting on the plane to travel from the Pacific Northwest to Amsterdam, the Netherlands I was filled with excitement, confidence, and anticipation. I had just a few worries. Did I pack too much? How would I navigate with my backpack and luggage? Would I find the accommodations I needed because I hadn’t booked much ahead of time? Was I foolish to think that it would all work out okay, traveling alone to places I’ve never been, where I didn’t know the language or the layout of the land? I have always been a risk taker. Dive into an unknown adventure first and figure it out as I go along. I assumed this would be the same. I am resourceful, optimistic, and have always made it through, even if presented with challenges. I expected this time to be the same. It just didn’t start out that way, causing me to doubt the wisdom in not cancelling the trip when I had the chance. Thoughts now swirl around in my head, including the biggest one – should I see if I can go home early? What has happened to so far to make me consider this? It all began on the plane ride over.
At the airport in Seattle, I still retained a sense of complete confidence. I’d packed well, had all the essentials I thought I would need: a variety of clothing to accommodate changes in weather, small sized items for hygiene and grooming, walking shoes and sandals, and a backpack to carry snacks and the all-important computer. Documents and money were stowed safely; I wisely distributed money and cards in different locations in case of loss or theft. I know how to travel well, although it’s always tough on board a packed airplane. My carry on was stowed above my seat out of reach. The backpack was placed under the seat in front of me, my handbag removed once seated so items in the pack could be easily accessed. I sat in a row of four, me in one of the middle seats, with very little room to move about. I am not one to sit still, especially in such small confines. There was a couple to my left, a young woman on my right. I fidgeted, reached for this and that, adjusted my handbag over and over because I was afraid I would lose it or some of the contents within. I tried to settle down, watch a movie, and for a little bit it worked, but it is so out of my character that I’m sure my seatmates thought me weird.
Then my reusable water bottle, one that I know has an issue with the lid if not secured properly, tipped over on the floor, spilling its water contents on the floor where my backpack is stored. That was not even an hour into our long flight. The only thing I could do was put my backpack on top of the provided pillow. I worried constantly that it was not a good enough fix and my computer, to say the least, would get wet and be ruined. That was the beginning of my loss of confidence, especially when once again I tipped it over and this time the rest of the liquid soaked the floor of the woman to my right who was in stocking feet. When the hostess came by to retrieve our empty food items, I asked her to toss out the water bottle, but feeling the gesture was too late. Then, the airline hostess delivered our food, along with an offer of drinks. I declined while eating but they came around after asking once again. This time I said yes to the proffered glass of red wine served in a plastic cup. Within five minutes I’d managed to knock it over, spilling it right into my lap with some splashing the woman I’d already inconvenienced with my water bottle. She was graciously good about it as I apologized over and over. My pants were soaked through with red wine. The staff was helpful and kind. In the back they gave me club soda that I used to blot as much of the wine as possible. The rest of the plane ride, nine hours of it, I was wet, uncomfortable, and ashamed. It would have been nice to pass out and forget my troubles until I landed. Sleep eluded me except in spurts, not only because of my distress but also because of the small, confined seating. As I do when I have done something I’m ashamed of, I tried to disappear, make myself as small as possible. When we landed, I was so happy to escape into the anonymity of the airport.
Next steps were to find a bathroom in order to change my clothes. I put on comfortable, loose black pants and black shirt. I felt much better. On to the exit where after my passport was presented, I was out for my first morning in the Netherlands and to find my accommodations for the next two days.
When my uncle was my traveling companion before he had to cancel, I had booked a hotel room near the Central Station in Amsterdam. It was a costly room, so in my budget-minded way, I cancelled that and booked a dorm room in a hostel. I’ve stayed in such accommodations before in Seattle and looked forward to a basic room while I worked out the itinerary. Navigating the way to get there was tricky, but after reading signs and asking questions, I boarded a ferry to take me “north,” a short distance to where the hostel was located. It was a short walk once I used Google Maps. I was an hour early for check in and was extremely hot; my change of clothes not conducive to the weather while I pulled my luggage and carried my backpack. In the facility there was no air conditioning, so I located another restroom and changed into shorts, shirt, and sandals. When I checked in at reception, I discovered that I had not booked a private room that I thought I had. Rather I was going to be in a 14-bed coed dormitory. With the accommodation already paid for I set my mind to acceptance, but it didn’t last long. I would need to eat the $137.00 and try and find a hotel with a real room, with air conditioning and privacy. I set out, once again using Google Maps for a nearby hotel. My Hilton Honors said there was a room available, but before I booked it, I wanted to be sure to find it. For the next two hours I walked. And walked. I was lost. It was hot. I was dragging behind me my luggage, traversing over cobblestones, staying out of the smooth bike lanes, looking ever more desperately for the hotel. My phone was dying. There was construction. The map took me here and there, but not to my destination. I didn’t know how to find a bus. I kept walking. When I realized I was in trouble, that I certainly wasn’t smart to have ventured out on my own this way, I was getting more and more exhausted and over-heated, and the map took me to the Straat Museum and NOT the Hilton, I wisely used what little phone power I had left to summon a taxi. Ready to book the hotel room while I waited, you guessed it, it was no longer available. Should I give up and go back to the hostel? I just couldn’t. I found another Hilton room available and after a $48.00 taxi ride, found myself in a wonderful, quiet, secure, room.
The moment I closed the door behind me, I stripped, showered, and fell upon the bed. Although not advisable, I slept but for only a short time. Upon awakening, I knew I should eat something. Nothing was in my stomach since the airplane and a nibble of my snacks before the nap. Could I summon the energy to dress, make myself presentable, and find a restaurant? I had to try as I could feel my body in desperate need of sustenance. The hotel staff was so helpful in showing me that a place to eat was a short walk. I found it without issue. There I had a refreshing fizzy hibiscus tea, lentil soup for protein, and a salad. I was satiated. I was going to be okay. Back at the hotel I considered going to bed but knew that would be a bad idea. After resting, checking emails, talking with my husband, whom I did not tell about my misadventures, I decided to go to the city center for a bit. Again, with the help of the front desk staff, I found my way to the tram, another short walk, took it to Central Station, and walked around. I became familiar with my surroundings, made my way through the crowds, saw some interesting people and buildings, and then hopped on a boat for a one-hour canal tour. During that ride I became overcome with tiredness and knew once the ride was over, I would need to get back to my room. By 10 pm local time, I was in bed, lights out and asleep. My ordeal of the day was over. Although I was still unsure of what the next day would bring – most importantly where I would stay the next night, I told myself that with a good rest and clear head, I would figure it out.
As I sit by a window seat enjoying a lovely complimentary breakfast and an invigorating cup of strong coffee, I anticipate the day will pan out. Not without some challenges to be sure, but with a bit more familiarity with my surroundings, knowledge of the public transportation, and a room booked in a nearby town, I have 24-hours to figure out next steps. My optimism, while not as keen as it usually is, is back and I’m confident all will be well.
What I have learned so far is that I need to take care of myself, that means staying in accommodations that serve that purpose, to stop worrying so much about spending the money that enables me to do that. I’m too far along in life to think those sorts of things don’t matter. Most importantly, I need to allow myself the understanding that the accidents that took place on the plane were circumstance and not my incompetence. It happened and I need to forgive myself for it.
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