Nov 4: Madrid – Maastricht/Achen – Eindhoven – Rijswijk – Leiden

At 3:15am I woke up, put on my shoes and coat, and headed to the bus stop. I arrived in plenty of time for the 4am bus, but Philip had warned me that if I missed this one, I would miss my flight and that just didn’t sound appealing.

The bus dropped me off at the airport stop, which, as Philip had warned, looked nothing like the airport. As instructed, I followed the two women who looked like flight attendants until they went separate directions. I took a chance and went left. Wrong. Oh well. Rather than catching the bus to the terminal, I walked another 20 minutes to the airport and through the other terminals, but I had time.

At the airport I checked in and bought myself a café con leche and a chocolate croissant for breakfast around 5:30am then made my way through the security line and to the gate. After waiting what seemed like forever, we were finally allowed to board the plane. I got to the front of the line and snagged a window seat up front. (RyanAir doesn’t assign seating, so you definitely want to be at the front of the line when traveling in a group so you can sit together. As a single traveler, it’s less important, but window seats are my favorite.)

I fell asleep before the rest of the plane was fully boarded and only barely noticed when the plane finally took off.

I woke up just as we began the initial descent. The pilot announced that we would be landing in Maastricht/Aachen shortly.

…

Now, I was groggy from just having woken up, but I knew that I boarded a plane to Eindhoven, the Netherlands. So why were we landing in Germany?!?

I turned to the girl next to me and asked, Porque vamos a Maastricht? Por la visibilidad. Oh.

…

A few minutes later I turned back to her, Y Despues….? Van a Eindhoven por autobus. Oh. I guess that works.

So something about the visibility in Eindhoven was bad, but they would get us there. I can handle that. It did seem rather silly, though, since it was so clear where we landed. I mean, it couldn’t have been that bad.

The bus returned us to Eindhoven on an endless journey – actually it could have been an hour or three hours – I was a bit delirious from exhaustion and continuously falling in and out of sleep. Realistically it was probably about an hour and fifteen minutes, maybe an hour and a half. But my bed was calling.

When we got to the Netherlands, I knew it. There aren’t really borders anymore now that the EU is in existence, but we drove right into a wall of fog. Thick fog. So thick that the bus slowed down. And that bus was moving – the driver clearly had places to be.

We finally arrived at the airport and I managed to get on the next bus to the train station and then caught the nearest train going in the right direction. I took the Innercity train from Eindhoven to Delft. The fog was everywhere. It was like a scene out of Harry Potter in which the Dementors descend upon all the land. I had planned to tour Delft for a couple of hours, but with the weather I passed that up. I'll go back on a nicer day. In Delft I transferred to a slow train to Rijswijk where the Ministry of Justice is located. After a brief wait, my number was called and I was given my official piece of plastic that says I am a legal resident of the Netherlands until January 2009. That way I can still travel without any re-entry issues. You can stay here for 90 days without a permit, but then cannot return for another 90 days. And it’s actually a pretty sweet souvenir. I waited with some friends who were also there picking up their permits, we commiserated about how far we had to travel for it, then headed back on the train together.

Another 10 minutes on my bike (which I found with relative ease given that I couldn’t quite remember where I had left it 4 days earlier) and I was home! I dropped off my bag, hit up the local Tuesday market to fill my shelf of the fridge and then went to bed for the rest of the afternoon/evening. I had to rest up for the big night….

Nov 3: Madrid – Cordóba – Sevilla – Madrid

It was another early morning as we tried to catch our 7:40am train to Cordóba. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances (namely exhaustion so extensive that the alarm clock rang in vain) we didn’t quite make it. We were able to catch a faster one just 50 minutes later, though, which meant we were only 20 minutes behind schedule. We didn’t have a ton of time in the city, but we did see the main attraction – the Mosque-turned-Cathedral, said by some (Spaniards of course) to be the most important mosque in the world. We also walked along the Roman bridge in Cordóba and wandered the streets of old town – a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Philip kept sneaking into courtyards leading into people’s homes to see the infamous patios with white tiles and flowers because, “It’s ok, they’re proud of them, they want us to come look at them!”

Philip’s family flew in from the States this morning and we met them at the train station. The family enjoyed a 10 minute reunion before Philip and I sprinted to catch our train to Sevilla. His parents and sister would tour the Mosque as well and meet up with us in Sevilla later that afternoon.

In Sevilla, we toured the 3^rd largest church in Europe and the largest Gothic church in the world. No joke, it’s excessive. Intentionally excessive, in fact – the builder wanted people to visit in the future and think, why did he make it so big? The interior had an entire wall covered in gold leaf. There was a courtyard with an orange tree grove in the back. We climbed the tour (sore feet and knees and all) – 30 flights to the top, but well worth the amazing view. The bells of the tower chimed as we stood gazing over the city just 20 feet away – pretty cool. The guy standing directly under the bell had a bit of a different opinion though…

On the way down, Philip got a call that his family had taken an earlier train and had arrived in Sevilla. We rushed to find a bus and met them at the train station. As we tried to find the bus stop, Philip asked two uniformed policemen which way it was and they each pointed confidently in opposite directions. I only wish I’d had my camera out. We did find the right bus, and Philip’s family, then drove back into town in the rental car. We walked around for a bit before coming upon the horse-drawn carriages outside the Cathedral. We hired one and I enjoyed a gorgeous sunset tour of the city with the jetlagged family and the Spanish-speaking tour guide. Philip translated for everyone and I gained confidence in my comprehension of the Spanish language. It was a 45 minute cozy (read: crowded) tour of the city. By the end, we were ready for some tapas and dinner! We found both the places recommended by the tour guide and were not disappointed. As Philip always says, “Hunger is the best sauce!” and we had plenty.

It was a great meal, with great conversation and in a family environment. Family meals are one of those relaxing little things that I forget that I miss. I make my meals in the kitchen and eat on the go while cleaning up or in my room while writing emails, so it’s nice to occasionally sit and enjoy the meal. I had to leave in a bit of a rush to catch my train and was sad to leave, but so happy I had the chance to spend the evening with the Sandagers.

As I said goodbye, Lousia told me to check the bag she had given me with jeans from home for a little something extra. I had checked as soon as she handed them to me hours ago but hadn’t found anything. On the train, I checked again and realized that there was something in the back pocket. I felt like a little kid on Christmas morning as I anxiously unbuttoned the pocket to find my treat! My mom had sent me a note, along with a surprise envelope that made my day! It could have been anything, I was just excited to get an unexpected (but hoped for) surprise. It was sweet and reminded me that I’m loved and a pretty lucky gal. It was also a nice way to start the next chapter of the trip – one I was not looking forward to.

The train arrived at the station at 12:20am. By the time I caught 3 metro lines and walked 4 blocks back to the apartment where I was staying – Philip’s friends had graciously agreed to host me since he was staying in the south with his family – it was after 1am. The lights in the common room where my couch was went off just after 2am. In the meantime I had gotten dressed for the next day – no reason to change into pajamas for an hour long nap.

Nov 2: Madrid

We arrived at El Rostro around 9:30am. The Sunday flea market. We walked around and I found myself some new gloves and a scarf and Christmas presents galore. Not sure how I would get them all back to the Netherlands, but sure that I needed them all, I took them. Philip purchased a painting and then we got some flowers on the way to church as a thank you to Philip’s Senora – his house-mother, Carmen – for letting me stay there.

The church we attended was a Pentecostal service held in a bar down a side street in Madrid, but it was packed. I caught most of what they were saying when I paid attention, but the concentration took so much effort that I only caught about half of what was going on.

After the service, I met Philip’s friends and Lienke was delighted when I greeted her in the Dutch way – 3 kisses rather than the Spanish two. She is an exchange student from Maastricht University in the far south of the Netherlands.

We made plans to meet them for dinner, then headed back to the apartment for paella – the traditional Spanish rice and seafood dish that Carmen prepares every Sunday afternoon. It was tasty! Philip claims it’s the best in all of Spain. I have only ever eaten Carmen’s paella, but I can believe him. It’s good stuff.

After lunch I needed another brief siesta before we started the rest of the day. An hour later Philip woke me to get ready to go to the park. First we took my bag to his friends’ apartment, where I would be staying for the next two nights. Then we headed to El Retiro – the Spanish equivalent to Central Park, I’m told – and rented a row boat. Philip’s been dying to rent one for months! We rowed around for a bit and watched the sun go down to the sound of a drum concert in the background. After 45 minutes, we returned the boat and wandered around the park for a little while longer.

It was getting dark, so we headed toward the Prado to finish up the tour that we hadn’t completed the night before. Philip spotted a friend as he was taking me from famous painting to famous painting and she joined us for the evening. By the end of the tour, I was ready to sit down and enjoy a drink. We found a small café and enjoyed American hot chocolate there – Spanish hot chocolate is more of a fondue than a drink.

After regaining some strength, we made our way the rest of the way across town to meet Philip’s friends for dinner. We had a great time at a Cuban restaurant. We all split several orders traditional Latin American foods such as plátanos (fried bananas) and I reminisced about Honduras.

We ended the night at a flamenco show in a small dinner theater with front row seats. The show was great, but after another long day, we were all falling asleep during the second act, so decided to leave around midnight before the third 30 minute set began.

I made it back to the apartment and fell into bed, determined to get every minute I could before our 7am departure for the south of Spain the next morning!

Nov 1: Leiden – Eindhoven – Madrid

As I left my room to catch the 5:15am train to the airport, I ran into several of my housemates returning from the Halloween parties of the previous night. I had been perfectly content to get to sleep early when I had been dragged out of bed the night before and named Toby’s gypsy pirate slave, despite my protests about being sick. Apparently gypsy pirate slaves don’t get to be sick. After assurances from my housemates that we would come home in time for me to get at least some sleep before my big trip, I began to get into costume. We made quite a crew biking across town: a monk, a pirate, a gypsy pirate slave, Africa, an 80s girl, and Joe the Plumber. I left early and did manage to get a nap before the trip, though as my housemates pointed out, they came back before I had to leave, I could have stayed!

I caught my train, the bus, and the plane and arrived in Madrid by 12:30pm. Philip was waiting for me and after we found me some food, we were off. [Note: Bogadillas are fantastic Spanish sandwiches, traditionally made of a smoked ham, cheese, and good bread.]

We took the metro to Philip’s homestay to drop off my bag and then were were off to see the city! I had a great time as Philip showed me around Puerta del Sol and Plaza Major and the Palace and the National Cathedral and many other places that I can not longer recall but were fun to see. He filled my brain with little tidbits of information and I felt like I was on my own personal tour – and I was!

We went into a store and purchased the traditional sweets of All Saints Day and All Souls Day, and then I broke the news to Philip: having just eaten the treats, I now felt obliged to attend a Catholic mass – it was a holy day of obligation and the rough equivalent of celebrating Christmas without the Jesus part. So we found a church and sat through mass. I expected everything to come rushing back to me from Honduras – I practically had the entire mass memorized after Holy Week this year – but it did not. I did remember bits and pieces, but the acoustics were so bad that it was hard to listen to what others were saying to catch up again.

In the evening, we walked around the Prado, which is free to the public from 6 – 8pm each night. Philip was in a course on Spanish art and knew so much about the paintings! It was fun to listen as he pointed out all of the symbolism that I never would have caught had he not explained it to me.

My favorite part was seeing the paintings by Goya and Velazquez that I had learned about in my high school Spanish class. At the time, I thought the unit on some art museum in Spain was ridiculous – I wasn’t ever going to go there. Until I did. But Philip was able to explain the significance of the paintings better than my teacher ever had. I knew what parts of the paintings were significant, but not why. He filled in those gaps.

By the time the museum closed at 8pm, I was exhausted. We went back to the apartment and I took a nap before going out for the night. Philip took me to a cute little tapas place and I experienced the terrible Spanish service that makes me glad that in America we tip our servers. It gives them a reason to be nice.

Following the potato and meat tapas, we checked out the café across the street, but it was too full and the clubs don’t start to fill up until at least 1am. We walked to the other side of the city center for churros con chocolate at the “best place in town.” Churros are softer here, not crunchy like in the US, and served with a cup full of liquid chocolate. Not like hot cocoa, but like a fondue. It was a deliciously rich dessert that I was unable to finish for all the sugar it contained.

We rushed back across town after the churros to get into a salsa club by midnight (free admission!) but arrived to find that free admission does not exist on Saturday nights. Oh well. We found another club and danced a few songs, ending on one by Shakira which made me miss Ella and Elyse and our renditions of Shakira songs on the bus on the way to Oklahoma in 2006.

In Madrid, many clubs hire people to stand on the streets and give out coupons to get people to go to that club. One guy found us and offered us free drinks. Despite the fact that neither of us actually wanted the free drink (I was on antibiotics and Philip does not like beer), we poor college students couldn’t turn down free. Upon entering the club I was delighted to see that it was all decked out in Halloween decorations. Even more fun was listening to the Spaniards try to pronounce the holiday. "AHH – low – een!" After that, we decided to call it a night. We were both sick, exhausted, and had an early morning ahead of us.

October 31, 2008: Arrogant Dutch Doctor

This morning I woke up feeling sick for the third day in a row. Given my history of strep throat and the fact that I was leaving for Spain in 20 hours, I decided to call the GP (general practitioner/family doctor). That was at about 9:30am and they gave me an appointment for 10:10am. Perfect. I got my bag together (planning to visit the library afterward) and headed out, stopping by the ATM on the way because without Dutch insurance, I would need to pay in cash and seek reimbursement from the insurance company on my own.

I arrived at the doctor's office and after taking my address and phone number, the receptionist sent me to the waiting room. No insurance forms, no medical history, no paperwork at all. I waited just a few minutes in the waiting room before the doctor came for me - not a nurse. He took me to his office/examining room (all in one) and asked what I was here for. I told him I had a very sore throat and had had a mild headache for about 3 days and that I have a history of strep throat. You're American? Yes. And in America, they give you antibiotics after three days? Well, yes. This is not how we do it in Holland. Americans are too quick to prescribe antibiotics. It's different here.

Ok, I can understand his point of view. Maybe Americans are over-medicated. But I am not one to run to the doctor for every runny nose. I know strep when I have it. I could have waited until Monday in Spain or Tuesday when I returned, but there is a good chance I would have severe dehydration by then possibly leading to hospitalization and frankly, I want to enjoy my time in Spain outside of the hospital. He continued, In the States, how long does it take for your symptoms to go away after antibiotics. Um, a day, maybe two. Oh, you are a quick responder. So how long should I wait before coming in next time? Oh you are welcome to visit any time you are not well... He kept talking but said nothing else useful.

He looked in one ear. Good. He looked in the other ear. Good. I opened my mouth and said "ahh." Oh. Yes I see why your throat is sore. You still have your tonsils? Perhaps in written form that sounded like a rhetorical question, but by the inflection and the way he paused, he clearly was waiting for an answer. At this point, I am not only offended but also beginning to doubt his qualifications. Clearly, I still have my tonsils. Did you not just see them? I said, Yes. Here we remove them at 5. I realize that I should have mine removed, but I haven't found time for a 3 week recovery period yet. Irritated, I held that in.

He felt the outside of my throat. I flinched and teared up. That is painful? I nodded. Very. He listened to my heartbeat, my lungs, and poked my sinuses. Finally, he said Ok. I think your symptoms make you good candidate for antibiotics. What do you take in the States? Penecillin? I resisted rolling my eyes, took the prescription, thanked him and left. I paid the receptionist, biked past my house to the other side of town, picked up the prescription, and was back home and on meds by eleven - an hour and a half after calling for an appointment. Hey, at least they're efficient :)

Note: After talking to some Dutch friends, I learned that it is extremely difficult to get a prescription for antibiotics in this country. You can't even purchase DayQuil (or an equivalent over the counter medication) without a prescription here. Who would have thought in the land in which soft drugs are tolerated that it would be so difficult to get medications for an actual cold?

October 26: Finals and South Africa

[Excerpts from an email]

Life in Leiden is wonderful. It's so different from any situation I've ever been in. Friday night after we finished our exam, a number of classmates went out an a Dutch student told me about her experience working in Ghana last summer. Saturday night I went to Amsterdam with the ladies and during dinner with 2 other Americans and two Irish, we discussed the crisis in the universal Catholic church. During dessert one Irish gal informed me about how US policies have destroyed Latin America and why she supports Evo Morales in Brazil even if he is changing the constitution to remain in power. Then tonight I had a friend over who is Zimbabwean. As she talked, the looks on my housemates' faces were priceless. I'm sure I had the same look at times too, but I had heard her talk about life at home before and how she went with Mugabe's daughter to vote for the opposition party in the first election of this year. She couldn't believe I would travel to war-torn Uganda and I couldn't understand how she, being from Harrare, could say such a thing. I just love the environment and intellectual and cultural discussions that we can have. Granted, this weekend was quite the exception to the rule, but I get to have at least one of these discussions once a week. I don't meet many Dutch students, but the international students are so fascinating. [Note: in my courses 2^nd block, there are a lot more Dutch students and they are helping me learn helpful Dutch phrases!]

I got accepted to the program in South Africa last week and have been pretty much floating on the clouds since then. I keep coming up with all these amazing ways to spend my life and just can't wait to get there. But I am here now and need to remember to enjoy that too - and I am. I'll be in Stellenbosch, South Africa beginning at the end of January, and finals begin at the end of May. There is a possibility that I could make it back in May for Emily's wedding and for Helen's graduation and if I have that chance, it would be difficult to pass up. Roach weddings are such fun and I'd hate to let Helen down. She turns 18 tomorrow and I wish I could celebrate with her. Still, if I have the chance to work in Africa or to travel for a little longer, it would be hard to turn down. I know I'll miss home and maybe I'll be ready to go home by the summer - today marks one week longer than the longest time I'd previously been away from home - so there's really no way to know right now. Anyway, regardless of the length of time I'm in South Africa, I would love to have the chance to visit my Aunt Mary’s religious sisters who work there and/or in South Africa if possible. It’s still a long ways away, but I can’t help but want to plan it all – I’m so excited!

October 21: Bruges, Belgium

I got up on Tuesday morning and enjoyed a continental breakfast of cereal and toast at the hostel before setting off for the day. I had intended to get up early and bike up to the sea, but it had been raining late in the night and into the morning so rather than brave the weather at 6am, I slept for a few more hours.

I met up with my Canadian friend and we explored the town together, starting in the Markt, which is the city center and full of tourists on every corner staring at maps and occasionally looking up with confused looks on their faces then staring at the map again. Hilarious. Admittedly, I was one as well, but I still found humor in it.

We wandered through the Belfry (decided not to pay admission to climb the tower, though) and looked at the large photography exhibit in displayed in the courtyard. Nor sure what the photos were about or where they were taken, but about half were of a UN truck and African children. There were also some more nature-oriented photos. I tried to ask what the display was, but the lady I asked didn’t seem to understand my question, or else didn’t know the answer.

The next stop took us around the corner to the Heilig-Bloedasiliek (Basilica of the Holy Blood). Since 1149, this church has housed a fragment of cloth stained with what is said to be the coagulated blood of Christ, wiped from his body by Joseph of Arimathea after the crucifixion. We got there around 10am and the veneration of the blood was at 11am, so we left and looked around a little photography display put on by a local photography club and returned at 11 for the veneration. I went up and touched the vial and then contemplated the authenticity for a while as others went up as well.

From the Basilica, we wandered around for a while, gazing at the storefronts full of chocolate and marzipan and chocolate sculptures and other amazing treats. My favorite was a large chocolate dinosaur that must have been a meter tall or more. Of course, we had to get some hot chocolate made from real chocolate, not just powder. It’s hard to go wrong with hot chocolate, but this was certainly a finer blend.

The wandering then took us to a courtyard among churches that had sculptures of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Very creepy.

Around the corner, we found the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk (Church of Our Lady). It is home to a Carrara marble Madonna and Child created by Michelangelo in 1504, the only one of his works to leave Italy during his lifetime. Marble is one of my favorite mediums, mostly because its so majestic how an artist can make the movement of flowing garments out of stone, but I have to say, I couldn’t tell the significance of why this Madonna and child was any prettier than the others. Still, I’ve now seen a Michelangelo.

About this time we were hungry for lunch: I got fries with Ketchup, Eric got fries with Mayonaisse – very European. Then we took a tour of De Halve Mann brewery, which brews only beer still made in Bruges. It’s called Brugse Zot, or “Fool from Bruges.” The tour was interesting and the rooftop had a nice view of the city.

As we sampled the local product at the end of the tour, an older couple asked if they sit at the table too – the only tables available were tables for 8 and there were just two of them and two of us at this one. Of course. Oh, you’re American? the man asked me. Yes, where are you from? Washington state. I’m from Iowa. No kidding?! My wife and I, we’re from Leon, did you hear that dear? She’s from Iowa! Yeah, my grandpa lives in Clarinda, I’ve spent the 4^th of July in Leon. Who’s your grandfather? And the conversation carried on. They were visiting their son at Cambridge and decided to see Belgium as well before heading back to the States. They shared their meat and cheese with us, offered to buy us another round, practically pushed Belgian chocolates and nougat into our hands (ok, we didn’t resist much). You’re from Iowa, you’ll do this for someone when you’re our age too, they told us. We had a great conversation about their travels, her visits to archaeological digs in Turkey and his mission trips to do surgeries in Latin America. A lovely couple. I knew that the longer we talked the less likely it was that I would make it to the chocolate museum by closing time, but it was fun to talk to them and there will be other chocolate museums.

We walked with the Iowans over to Prinselijk Begijnhof ten Wijngaarde (Princely Beguinage of the Vineyard) and she told us the story of the Begijns, religious women similar to nuns, who accepted vows of chastity and obedience, but drew the line at poverty and made a living by looking after the sick and making lace. It was a beautiful courtyard tucked away from the busy streets with its own quaint little church. The Begijns are long gone, but the area is now occupied by Benedictine nuns.

I glanced at my watch and knew there was no way I’d make it to the chocolate museum now, so I enjoyed a waffle (that’s right, a real Belgian one) in a small café. On the way back to the hostel to recover my backpack, I checked on hotels for when my family comes to visit over winter break and found a couple of possibilities. I wasn’t quite ready to leave and wanted to stay another night, maybe see Antwerp or Brussels on the way back the next morning, but I was low on funds and not sure if my latest wire transfer had gone through so I figured it was safest just to head back. On the way, the window about 4 rows ahead of me in the traincar cracked and had to be replaced at the next station before we could continue our journey. It actually took much less time than I expected which was nice and I still made it back home by midnight – tired but thrilled with my first backpacking success!