date: 1094545193
mood:
listening to:
day 0: the flight
today is august the 26th of 2004 and this is officially my first entry into the “blog” of maastricht travelling. really i’ve been keeping a blog for a longer time, online, however this is meant to be a no secrets barred all opinions shared note type of thing. sensored versions of this will be available to parents and some friends. :)
so, today was exciting – went to the bank, went to shoppers drugs mart, went to the bank (again), and then went home. walked the dog, talked to friends on the phone, finished packing and 5 minutes after we were supposed to leave realize i have no new/good ebooks on my palm (specifically, dont have catch22 which i started to read). so follows a 15 minute delay when i tried loading files – didn’t work, and ended up loading some russian books into myie on the laptop.
arrival to the airport, after a fairly long and rainy ride through the traffic was eventful in the fact that i thought that this is it, no turning back. except, after going into the end of the line which spanned about 40 meters after the last twirl of the snake of the waiting people, we figured something was wrong (we is me and my beloved parents, by the way), and realized that the flight was moved from 6:20 to 8:45. like, whoa. how often does that happen?
i charged the laptop (the battery was around 60% when i left home) and realized that all my opened russian books have disappeared – seems like my computer restarted or something. oddness.
we went through the line (took us about an hour or more – i’m not sure), hugged eachother, took some photographs, and then i went into customs after waving profusely to my parents for at least an hour. (more like non stop from the point of entry to the customs area up until i disappeared behind the doors whre the checked in bags are … checked. hmm, maybe that’s why they call it check in.)
after checking my laptop and peeking at my camera (i just now realized how suspicious 2 harddrives must look to an xray – i’m taking them with me cause too much banging might break them. for some reason im not sure where are they safer – on my shoulder or at the baggage.) i walked out to the gates.
and that’s when it hit me.
my bags are freakin’ heavy.
actually, no.
i’m going. as in, i’m almost gone. as in i’m here.
and what was curious is that the place where i was boarding either the exact same place where we boarded to Cuba, as well as when i went to colorado, *or* each and single freaking terminal is exactly the same. i’m not sure which one it is, but i can swear that it was the exact same coffee shop, same sitting room, same fridge, same book store across the walkpath (Ink. is the name), etc.
anyway, after spending the $5 that KLM graciously given me for delaying their flight by more than 2 hours, (i got perrier and a bag of vickies natural taste chips – it is so odd, i wanted them and the only thing the airport shop had WAS vickies, except they had salt and vinegar too and i kinda debated for a bit but then i decided that natural salt is okay), plus another 80 cents cause the airport authority bastards rip you off at every single turn (3.80 for a bottle of perrier?!!) i sat down and drank some of my perrier enjoying my surroundings immensly. here i was sitting at the airport, parents, life, house, friends, shady, school, everything behind me.
it was like movies, seriously. all that was missing was some rock music.
anyway, after walking to my gate, i found an electrical outlet (its odd, there are almost none around here. i found one, and there’s another guy sitting to the left of me with his thinkpad), sat down and tried to find my books in i.e’s cache. i did not succeed.
what is interesting i didn’t find cache at all. maybe i should start with that…
anyway, after not finding that i decided to start writing my python bot, since python was graciously installed on my laptop by robert. however i couldn’t find hte sample files i had somewhere (i guess i either deleted them or never put them on to the laptop), and couldn’t find any mentions of irc, relay, chat in the attached documentation.
after reading a few chapters of python documentation and trying to think of something to write i became bored, as i’d rather be working on the bot then some useless thing. besides, its a pain in the ass (PITA, hehe) to be working on something without samples!
and theeen i decided to write this blog. i already finished my extra small bag of chips and like half of the bottle.
i’m back. the gensworth financial ad came on in my play list. you probably know it better as the ad where the little kid kicks this guy’s ass in tennis and turns out he’s the son of agassi and martinez (i think that’s her name anyway).
anyway, i still have an hour still the start of checking, so i’m going to start reading the huuuge instyle that i got for the flight… i’m fairly sleepy, so i’m sure i’ll have no problems falling asleep once i get to the flight.
this feeling is AWESOME. i’m finally coming! i’m finally here! its like… i don’t really believe it. but i also feel surreal, like i’m in a movie, and i’m the cool person going to europe. i mean, this is weird to say that i’m a cool person buuuut this is very neat. and i feel like such a student. and its all the little details, the camera, the canadian flag on the bag, everything, is just awesome.
out for now. if more thoughts come my way i shall judiciously jot them down.
———
okay, so the flight was delayed for like 4 hours. we took off at 10:10pm. i boarded at 9:30.
met this guy from UA (going to UA), who travelled all over the world. he asked me what grade i’m in, i said 3rd year university. hmm.
flight was boring. sucky food, shrek 2 movie but i was DEAD tired so i fell asleep. was very uncomfortable.
woke up, landed at 10:49 – 29 minutes after my flight to maastricht left. not only all stewardesses kept telling me that we’d make it, they also told me there is an hourly flight to maastricht.
well, turns out there isn’t.
i ran to the transfer booth, stood in another line, was told that the next flight is at 4:20. yeah, rigt, i’m not gonna wait that long! the guesthouse would close. so i found out that i can exchange the airplane ticket for the train. i call sigrid (the guy who’s supposed to pick me up), and have a horribly incomprehensible phone conversation, however getting my point across to him, that i’ll be late.
i go to bagage rolley 9. wait for 10 minutes. nothing happens.
look on board – flight from toronto comes at rolley 17. take a huuuuuuuuge walk with 2 heavy bags (im hoping its the journal that makes this so heavy), nothing there. talk to another person, she says its supposed to be at 9.
go to 9, wait for 10 minutes.
go to another person, next to 9, talk to her, she ays it can be anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour.
its around 5:30am toronto time at this point. i wait for 25 minutes, realize i can’t wait anymore, go call parents.
my amusement during the wait was (mildly) people watching, and (strongly) a scrolling vertical ticker line with brainwashing slogans:
“you should push yourself to the limits as often as possible”
“for some cooking is a chore for some it is art”
“only during the most terrible times can the oppression be removed”
“your body doesn’t obey you when its sick”
“disease is in your mind”
“listen to your body”
“trust yourself”
etc. weird stuff, kinda cool.
anyway, by 6:40 (am) (i’m still on toronto time at this point) i go talk to her again. she asks me for the baggage tags and the description of the baggage. i give it to her, she spends some time on the phone with some (guy?) one, giggling and having flirty body language. she is ~35 and married (ring). she hangs up, tells me that he is going personally to get my luggage.
i go call parents, again, they don’t reply, so i make an attempt to leave a message throught the voicemail.
30 seconds after i hang up *she* approaches me, and tells me that the luggage was found.
10 minutes later i put the luggage on the rolley cart and take it to her. boy its heavy!! she explains “go in that line and then the train is right outside”
i go in that line, however stumble around for 5 minutes or so until i find the train.
i’m paranoid like hell, cause now i’m out in the real world, so anyone can snatch my bags and run away.
i find a train ticketing station, give the lady my airplane ticket, she gives me first class ticket to maastricht with an exchange in duivendrecht. she tells me the train is leaving in 4 minutes, and points to the entrance.
i RUN downstairs, see a train, but am not sure if its mine, so i RUN with a HEAVY F@#%ing cart towards the ticket person, but they close the doors right in front of my nose, saying something that i don’t understand.
at this point, i’m lacking sleep, food, rest, home, and i really need a hug.
i lean over the cart and just want to not move for an hour, realizing that its not a good idea because then i won’t be on time for the guesthouse.
this pair of 28ish looking, glances at me and kinda asks “are you okay” and at *this* point i feel that i’m going to cry. i tell him i need to go to maastricht and he goes that the train that just left isn’t mine. i breathe.
i am not sure what happens after this, except he kinda runs with me to the map, goes “this train is yours” and the whistle blows, meaning its going to leave in 15 seconds (feels more like 3). we throw bags, he throws my jacket into the train and the doors close just as i’m trying to convey how thankful i am and such. he just smiles and they both wave.
in the train i’m standing on a tiny platform, with 3 more people. they all are looking at me like i’m a nutso. probably rightfully so too! i breathe for a few moments, stuff the jacket into the laptop backpack, and ask them when’s the next stop (duivendrecht). they say its in 10ish minutes. i need to transfer at that station, and another guy who was there asks me how many kilos the bags are. i say “30 and 33”. he offers to help me with the 33 bag, and i agree.
next station arrives right as i manage to stop feeling as if my hair is going grey in prime live time. i grab one bag (the carryons are on my shoulders), and jump down with the 30 kg one. he grabs his equally big bag plus my beast and puts it next to me. he kinda offers help and i decidfully refuse saying “you have a train, and you’ve already helped me so much, so thank you very much”.
another guy who was on our little platform says “i’m also going to platform 8” and offers to help. he rolls the heavier bag as i attempt to roll/drag the “lighter” one (this is semantics here, really). i make a joke “don’t try to run away with my bag” and he goes “nah, its too heavy even if i wanted to”. we arrive to the platform, he leaves me with the bags. i look around, the train isn’t there yet.
now, my ticket is 1st class, so i’m intending to get what i want. the train rolls up, i run towards the first class, step on to the train to pull my bags on and hear the whistle.
FUCK!!
that means that the train will likely leave with out my bags.
i start yelling “HELP! HELP!” and 2 tall black women run in from the train, and seeing my predictament drag in the bags. the doors close just as my last bag lands inside the train. i’m nearly crying at this point (again), and again i start thanking them but they just kinda wave it off and leave me with the bags.
i see the tiny entrance to 1st class. (downtstairs – am i nuts to drag the bags upstairs? :P) its *empty*. there’s 2 people at the other end of the train, and no one else. i leave my smaller bags next to the entrance, drag one bag to them, go upstairs and ask some person sitting on the little platform whether they know how many stations is it to maastricht. they laugh and say “a lot! its the end station”. so apparnetly this train is going to stop at maastricht for 10-15 minutes (not enough for me to carry my bags up), but there will be an announcement.
the train ride should be around 2 hours, i’m arrivint to the train station there at 4.
sucks, sigrid thinks i’m arriving at 3, and i have no way of calling him, with the exception of borrowin ga cellphone of a stranger, but i don’t think my karma is that good. not going to push it anyway. :)
right now i’m riding in a very comfortable seat, watching scenery pass by:
sheep
cows
rivers
a looong tree lined walkway about 1 meter wide, with a guy walking a black lab along it.
everything is wet. a lot of water. its raining non stop since i landed.
the dutch language is beautiful.
my hands feel in pain from all this dragging and throwing.
more sheep.
more water.
i wish i had change – i didn’t have time or ability to exchange the 50 euros into smaller change, and if i had change i could have offered it to someone in the train for a few minutes of their cellphone.
generally i’m happy, i’m on the train, i’m safe, bags are here, and i’m 4 hours late, just as promised by klm. heh.
so far 0 spent in additional charges on carrying the bags, however emotionally i’m dead.
that’s it for now, be back later, hopefully with laptop charging off an outlet in my room. :)
——–
*sniff* okay, i’m in my room. the room is cool, small, a bit stinky (odd smell, not bad, just odd), but i have a balcony (shared), so i opened the door wide to air it out.
so the guy who was supposed to meet me turned out to be a girl. i think a very mildly retarded one too (medically, that is). her speech and facial features as well as her .. thinking … was … well, odd. not dutch, odd.
anyway, i slept most of the ride to maastricht. as in i kinda leaned over the two most important bags and fell asleep.
my luggage is sooo fucking heavy. i mean, its sooooooo fucking heavy. i wish i could’ve gone back and left literally half the stuff! my hands and arms hurt so much from carrying all that. yet another nice person (an older couple, from uchretcht (sic)), helped me haul the bags to the phone stand.
anyway, we took a taxi from the train station (she met me after i was waiting for abt 20 minutes, looking at each person walking into the station with bewilderment), because there’s no way we could’ve carried the two suitcases the 300 meters from the bus stop to the residence (its more like 700m). taxi was 10 euros. i then paid 750 (or so, i got the reciept) euros for the deposit, cleaning fee and first month. so i can pay before the start of each month, which is nice.
then i went to my room and for about 30 minutes tried to get rid of her. subtle hints like “i’m tired, so i think i want to be alone now” did not work. neither did shaking her hand and saying thank you for all the help. anyway… i’ve been alone for about 20 minutes.
its scary.
i’m alone.
like, completely.
so at first, i looked over the room, and kinda froze. i have 2 huge unpacked suitcases and absolutely no energy, and no will to sit on a bed that’s not mine.
after reading over the papres that came with the “spiffy” bag that the university here gave me, i unpacked first one bag, firstly making the bed. the teddy bears are just a life saver. i’m trying so hard not to cry, and i really want a hug, and i’m really scared. i know its melodramatic, but really, i’ve never been so utterly and completely alone. i don’t even know where the phones are, and from my attempts and conversing with her i understood internet is not available right now (building closed or something, but she doesn’t seem like a trustable source of information).
anyway, i didn’t really unpack clothes, with the exception of hanging the 3 jackets and putting shoes in to the closet, and opening the sealed bags. i don’t have the strength to hang stuff right now, i’ll do it later.
the orientation is on monday, so i have 2 days of nothingness to do whatever i want. right now that seems a bit daunting, so i’m not trying to plan.
anyway, i made the bed, covers, pillows, blankets, and all. its comfy and nice now, and the fresh air is slowly kicking odd smells out. the hall is still stinky, but who cares.
after kinda unpacking the first bag, i opened the second one. took out all bathroom stuff, put on shelves, the books/notebook as well, and seen the painting that my mom gave me.
words cannot describe the joy that i felt at seeing even the *back* of it. i mean, it was lying face down, but just seeing it made me feel so nice. mom, you’re a genious. its perfect. and it already is standing on the bookshelves.
i’m not allowed to hang anything, and right now i dont want to break the rules.
the clock, from home, is standing on the window sill (i think that’s what its called). the desk is a mess, but i dont care. i feel more at home, finally.
it is like 12pm in toronto… i wish i knew if my parents are there or what. and i want internet, damnit. i still haven’t found the plug converters, but that’s what i’ll do next. then i’ll wash my face and change and go find food/internet.
typing this feels better, its like i have a thread to home.
the sirens here (of emergency cars) are different.
i have a sink, 2 mirrors, and a shelf in my room! its awesome.
the bathrooms are fairly disappointing, but they’re okay, i suppose.
kitchen as well, but its usable. big fridge, very close to me.
i already miss everyone though. maybe its the thought that i know i wont see anyone for the next 4 months, on the dot, from today.
and it feels like, what, 4 months? its nothing! but then its kinda scary, because i miss my room and everything.
*sighs* i miss everyone.
————
so after typing this, i read the journal for some time, and then tried again to find the plug converters, unsuccessfully.
pretty quickly (after about 20 minutes) i dressed (mom, wearing new sweater and the light blue winter jacket). oh yeah, it felt kinda cold to me outside, so i ended up wearing this jacket which we grabbed literally in the last second – we stuffed it into the bags in the airport – and that i usually wear in light winter. but i felt warm, and that felt good.
so, yeah, i went downtstairs to the porters, asked for directions to internet anything, ended up getting a mark on my map to the internet cafe.
after about 2 hours of wandering (this was 8:30), and generally watching the streets (no pictures, i had camera but i was so tired, and it was raining the whole time), and getting my hair soaking wet, i find this internet cafe, completly different from the one to which i was originally refered (i couldn’t find ANYTHING, not a single intersection that i found was on the map), one that i just asked someone on the street for directions refered me to. anyway, looked at the prices, 1.50 euros for 30 minutes, 3 euros for an hour, YIKES! got half an hour.
go online, write off a mass email to everyone letting them know i alive. then a quick email to parents. they had icq! opened icq, no one online is responding.
parents replied (well dad) right away. we had a quick conversation through emails (i love you gmail, you saved my life!), discussing that i can’t find the plugs, in 2-3 words on what happened so far (i promised this longer version later, so we didn’t go into too many details). 5 minutes before my time was running out, robert came online, we had a quick conversation, which was awesome.
i wish i could’ve talked to more people, i miss everyone terribly!
i updated blog. not sure why but by the end of the 30 minutes, like 20 minutes into it i got and conveyed all the important information to my parents and figured why not.
after the time ran out (i managed to be prepared and let everyone know that i’m leaving and said good bye and logged out!), i went back out into the rain, and walked in the general direction of the guesthouse.
on the way to the internet cafe i noticed a lot of showarma places, so i stopped in one. looked at the prices and the language, and didn’t understand ANYTHING, nor it looked nice to me, so i kinda walked out.
on the way home i stayed close behind this couple, cause it was late (9pm), dark and rainy, and i’m still not sure where safe/unsafe areas are. i’m not even sure if there are unsafe areas, everywhere looks and feels safe, but you know.
when i was getting closer to home i was passing by the first showarma place i noticed when i was walking into the centre of the town. i went in, first item on the menu is “showarma: 4.30 euros”. alright, looks more reasonable then the 9euros-17 euro prices i’ve been seeing so far. so i order that.
the place is small, ran by 3 indian guys, has arabic tv running, a fridge with weird drinks (cofe looks different here, well, the logo is the same, but one half of it is in this indian-styled “dance valley” ad), a cigarrete box. 3 tables. a creepy dolphin painting on the wall (the dolphins look evil!).
i order showarma, say sandwich. they ask me where i’m from, i say russia, they say “moscow” i’m too tired at this point to explain anything to anyone, say yeah. they say “oh we have a guy from moscow” and point to this man. i go “vy otkuda” and he goes “kiev”. yeaaaah.
so i buy a small can of coke (nothing looked more attractive and i didn’t feel like beer), sit down. he brings me a huge plate of showarma with salad and bread and 2 sauces. i suddenly realize that i haven’t eaten anything the whole day, and just start eating. wasn’t really a sandwich as proportionally there was more showarma then bread, salad, and sauces combined.
i finished all of bread, salad, one of the sauces (it was AWESOME) and about 90% of the showarma. it was impossible to eat more!
i talk to the guy for a bit, he moved all over place, was in pakistan, kiev, geneva, lives in maastricht for 7 year, has extremely broken russian (althought we talk in russian, not english). while he *is* like 50ish, he doesn’t seem suspicious on emotional level – too … stupid. =p on logical level of course i’m being safe. its still nice to talk to someone, finally.
he says to come by if i need help with anything, i say “da da konechno” (yes yes of course), compliment the food (it WAS awesome), and leave. all in all i sat there for about 40 minutes, i’d say. (cooking, then ate, then about 15 minute conversation with him).
i walk home, dead tired, change and fall asleep right away. it was around 10 – 10:30 at this point.
