Wooden shoes: If I could eat anything right now, it'd be that wonderful vegetable soup with cream that they served one lunch in Abuja

Dulles (2 Mar) to Amsterdam to Abuja to Frankfurt to Amsterdam to Groningen to Amsterdam to Brussels to Bruges to Brussels to Köln to Frankfurt. Back to Dulles (16 Mar). In the space of two weeks, that ain't bad. Really, the trouble came when I tried to decide which country I loved most of all. All went swimmingly, in both Nigeria and Europe, and Leslie and I got along amazingly well. My goal, when travelling, is to experience the country, in the way that not even the natives do; see the sights and do everything I can as quickly yet thoroughly as possible, while still sitting in the sidewalk cafes, and watching and breathing. And then I sleep while on airplanes or trains, which is clearly the best time to sleep because you miss the least. She let me sleep on her shoulder while we were on trains, and while she wrote letters and so on. We shared her ipod. And since she used to row on crew team, she could lift my rolly bag up and down stairs, though later on, I discovered that I could do that by myself when I needed to. And I can also lift it into overhead storage on trains, though that’s a little iffier, and for a moment it was touch-and-go whether or not I would smash the Nigerian guy’s head, until the German policeman came to the rescue.

The flight into Ams was on time, but after we landed, we had to wait 2.5 hours (during which we watched a silent gag reel) for a gate to open up because all the other planes were waiting to be de-iced. So I didn't think that I'd be able to go downtown, b/c Spencer was anti, but then Jim the Notetaker wanted to, so in the space of 2.25 hours, we made it downtown, walked to Dam Square, got souvenirs (I got a pair of Amsterdam socks and 3 postcards), walked back, took an hour-long boat tour (with adorable Dutch ducks [some with yellow and white mohawks!] in all the canals), and made it back to the airport. Oh, and we saw ads for The Life Aquatic in Dutch. It was cold, and very wet, but incredibly fun, with an odd surrealist billboard just across from where we all get on the tour cruises; when I'm next there, I'll have to go to the Anne Frank house, the Van Gogh museum, and a diamond-cutter. Then there were no baggage-loaders at Ams, so after we got on the plane, we waited another 2 hrs to leave, but a couple of hours later, on the way south, I flew over Algeria! So close I could almost touch it. It was wonderful... nighttime, and cloudy, mostly, but I saw clusters of lights like cities, and a bit of land maybe.

We landed in Abuja at night, and got in to the hotel about midnight, with an armed escort. The city was ceaselessly wonderful, with large and colorful lizards, and facilities tours, and indescribably lovely business schools that look like shacks, and people everywhere, always walking, eternally social, and warmth, finally, after the frigid yet beautiful Amsterdam (though I'm still sad that I didn't see Kano, a much older city in the north). My bag arrived safely (a miracle)!! I got to bed insanely late, my first night, because of talking to Leslie and waiting for my iron (which they actually let me keep the whole week - normally they come and collect it. The ironing board had holes in it, but it was sweet and pretty, with flowers). Breakfasts were tasty...a huge buffet. I had some Nigerian things (like [oki?]: greens and onion and junk), and rice and bean, and "pan cakes" and other little goodies. Watermelon and French toast, and I tried a weird juice (zomo?), but drank apple juice. The yogurt is gross. Like a drink. Like it's been sitting out for a few hours. But the Fanta and Coke bottles are glass, tall and thin, and the Fanta one was ribbed. Very pretty. The tv channels were fabulous. There were great movie channels, and 3 Arabic ones (yay! I left it on so it could seep in), and French (TV5 of course) and so on. And a number of sporting channels (I now watch rugby). It really was fabulous...work became fun, since we were all in one room and chatting. We spent our days greeting and registering participants (Fri/Sat/Sun), handling the media (Mon-Fri, especially Mon), and talking to the participants. Oh, and running MERLN courses. There was a cultural night, with a huge buffet and music and dancing, and native dancing at the closing ceremony. I got mild food poisoning once, and I got a massive red thing on my back (which apppeared on Mon 7 Mar). Danielle said it was hives, so Pamela sent me to the embassy doctor with Jessica, which was a huge and wonderful adventure all around town, and at the wrong embassy, and she said that it was only like a billion mosquito bites - but I got to leave the hotel again! And I was the star of the ops room, with everyone oohing and ahing over my bites. I flooded the bathroom regularly because the shower curtain was incompetent, but the maids, who were wonderful, came in and cleaned it up for me, and I no longer had to squish through. Oh, and we went to Indian restaurants, and three different markets! I learned all about haggling in Nigeria, thanks to Spencer's notetaker from Lagos who told me all about how Nigerian mailboxes (or the lack thereof) work. And boy, did I pump money into the Nigerian economy! I bought a traditional dress, loads of fabric, paintings, jewelry, etc. It really was a breathtaking country, and I've fallen in love with Africa.

From Abuja to Frankfurt (a nightflight, you know), they had me next to Holly next to Leslie next to Brooke, and Monde (who promised to buy me a necklace like hers) and Pamela nearby. So basically, they were being truly dumb if they thought anyone near us would be sleeping. It was a very fun flight. And then Europe, as predicted, was fab fab fab. Fabulous. And everything went really well, considering that I speak essentially no German or Dutch or Flemish. I managed to forget the word for ‘yes’ in Dutch while in the Netherlands (it’s ‘ja’), and I had to consult my phrasesheet. Leslie laughed at me. I’d been trying to order fries in Dutch; harder than you might think. It seems that I said 'ja' to mayo, when I wanted ketchup, and I never ever ever eat mayo. Ever. But Arjen fixed it for us. Leslie’s friends and the party were wonderful. We were walking home with them (Arjen and his girlfriend were showing us the way back to the hotel) at 4:30 am, and Arjen bought a wall “hamburger sandwich” so that I could see how it works, and he let me have a bite of it – you put money in the wall, and open the window, and get your food! Like 1950s-era US food, I think. It was tremendously exciting. Oh! And I saw a mini-red light district! And loads, hundreds, thousands, of bikes. Everyone there rides bikes, and in Groningen, recently voted the safest city in the Netherlands, the big crime is stealing bikes, and hanging them from fences.

And then Belgium (we went on Sunday), Brussels (Sun/Mon/Tues) and Bruges (side trip on Mon), was AMAZING. Absolutely wonderful. I want to move to Bruges, or somewhere near there. More ducks! More canals! Lovely. And Erzsi the friend in Brussels was very cool. The first night we were there, though, we weren’t sure whether or not we’d be spending a second night, so after dinner, I took off to explore the city. I was on the way to a famous statue and a couple of other ancient cafés, and the Palais Royal. And it was all so lovely. I saw the first of a series of pianos outside (I have a collection of photos now, outside-pianos-covered-in-tarps in different countries). And then all was well until I decided to turn back and take a picture of this truly gorgeous church that I hadn’t photographed the first time I walked by, thinking it might not turn out, and it wouldn’t convey the emotion I felt as I looked at it. But it was so beautiful I had to. So after I made it to the church, I somehow missed my turn. And suddenly I was off the map and highly misplaced. And there was lots of construction about, and this truly odd man walked up and started talking about how loud my shoes were (they were echoing, since the streets were all deserted, since it was about 1:30 on a Sunday night in the highly iffy part of town). Other people came up, too. And at that point, I was at least a 45-min walk from the hotel, and I’d pretty much had it, but there were no taxis about to hail. So I was heading on, when I saw a woman! And I was just desperate enough to approach and ask for directions. So she pointed me in the right direction, but then decided to be incredibly nice and offered to drive me back. So she did. And I got her address so I can write and thank her.

Then the next day was Bruges, and food, and a church that claims to have some of Jesus’s blood. I tried to climb the huge tower (Leslie was going to head off and shop), but it was closed. And there was shopping. At the airport back in Frankfurt, Victoria had said that I’m art deco. I don’t entirely understand, but according to Leslie, all the clothes I bought in Belgium reaffirmed it. Who would have thought of shopping while on vacation? Leslie, that’s who. I got into the swing of it and bought 4 shirts. Two are lovely and have vague beading, but not crappy like most beaded shirts. The third is like a sheer version of the top half of a Victorian dress. And the last is kinda workish, but with stripes and two pieces that wrap around and tie. There were these pants, too, best pants ever, and I mean ever, but they worked out to about $175, so I had a good laugh and moved on. And we really were good shopping partners. I know fabrics and seams and cuts and all, since I sew, and she just has rockin taste. So anyway, post-Bruges, we went back to Brussels, and the next morning, Tuesday, early, Leslie left, to go back to Frankfurt, and Dulles, and Dupont Circle. And I missed her, of course. But then, when it was just me…oh, it was heavenly, being totally free and self-sustaining, and having no one at all on the continent that I knew. I went around Bruges (Tues morn), and resolved a train mix-up without reverting to English at all. And then I took the train to Köln. I sat next to a very nice elderly French gentleman who was also fluent in German. And it was extra-helpful because he could translate for me when the Nigerian guy behind me was getting deported (!). Extra-exciting was the fact that I convinced both the Nigerian guy and the German police that I was totally on their respective sides. The Germans kept winking at me and helped me with my luggage, and the Nigerian guy shouted something unintelligible with a message of solidarity as he was being hauled off at the next stop. And then I got out and saw the cathedral, which was awe-inspiring, and I bought a rosary. And I talked to a priest for a bit, and bought and lit a candle. And I wandered around, and saw part of the main museum by the cathedral from the outside since I didn’t have much time, and talked to some Iraqis. And then I hopped on the train for Frankfurt (Tues at 19:15ish), and got to the hostel. And there was a girl named Kim who was checking in at the same time I was. She’s a 36-yr-old biologist from California, married to a Ukrainian and on her way back from a vacation in Egypt. So basically, a perfect person. And we went and explored the city and had many adventures, with giant statues.

And then she left early the next morning (Wed), and I went to the church where Goethe was baptized and some other places around town, as well as the Goethe Haus and museum, and I got to see one of my favorite paintings (The Nightmare, though my less-favorite of Fuseli’s two renditions) up close! Truly exciting. And then I headed to pick up my bags and get on the metro, but the metro was quite confusing, and I couldn’t find anyone who spoke French or English. But there were these two Russian men who spoke about 10 words of English. And we had this very amusing 10-minute conversation trying to figure out the word for airport, which was ridiculously absent from my phrase sheet. So I was waving my arms like wings and making airplane noises, and they kept waving their arms to say zwei: eins (arms flap down, indicating that I stay on the train at the first stop), drei (same), zwei (arms push out, indicating that I get off at the third stop). And that repeated itself for about 10 min. It was fabulous. S-ocht (acht?): the train I take. But they were nice and helpful, and helped me move my rolly bag. And on the way home, I listened to wonderful music, and talked to the friendly Major beside me, Rob, about his shirt and the intricate horror that is Bridget Jones/Edge/Reason. Such a waste. Whatever happened to good movies on flights? Well, this is only the tip of the iceberg, sadly enough, of all I could say about the trip to Europe. Suffice it to say that it was fabulous, perfection, and I want to go back, to move there.