The Loosed Marble (post-dated first entry)

Here's a blast from the past: I just dug up the blog entry that I wrote on the plane to Germany forty-odd days ago. It is somewhat belated, but if you'll forgive me, here it is for your enjoyment:

Welcome, and thank you for joining me on my intercontinental series of adventures and misadventures. Here I hope to keep posting updates throughout so that you all can know what I’m up to and be reassured that I have no intention of being stoned or otherwise maimed on any of my travels. (It would set a terrible tone for any future business abroad, don’t you think?) 

As I write, I’m flying over the British Isles, soon to land in Frankfurt. At present, it bears mentioning that in Europe I have great tour guides, but speak none of the native languages of any of the places I am going, and I have never truly left the States (Canada doesn’t count). But it gets better when I hit Cairo. Due to what amounts to bureaucratic inefficiency and general nonsense, I arrive in Cairo in a month, and as of yet have no classes, no housing, and may well not have a program for second semester. So given everything, I think I am being pretty Zen. 

 

This is the realization I had when I found the e-mail in my inbox stating I had been waitlisted for a dorm room- I’ve made it 21 years so far with no problem I couldn’t fix, and I have no intention of starting now. Throughout the years, my fantastic friends, family, teachers, mentors, and other influences have provided me with an excellent set of experiences that can and will provide me with the tools I need to fend for myself. Once I figure out how to operate these fancy German Lufthansa seatbelts. It’s all about taking things one step at a time. 

 

And speaking of fancy and German, I have come to decide that I am a believer in this airline. I mean, in economy class, on a nine-hour flight, we get two meals, a snack, and all sorts of drinks. And, my keen observations of my fellow passengers reveal to me that alcoholic drinks appear to be complimentary, and yield an overall greater quantity of beverage than, say, a soda. In my benedryl-afflicted state (I don’t normally sleep on planes, and as I recently discovered, an antihistamine operates in my system by making me too sleepy to notice any allergies, yielding a pleasant several hours passed out face down on top of my fold-out airline tray), I decided to forego the pleasure of that particular perk, but nonetheless, I think I’m going to rather enjoy Europe. But could someone tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do with this uncommonly warm wet-wipe? Perhaps I should return to my keen observations of fellow passengers. 

 

Before I do so, however, I will make one more observation here. I have had several opportunities to be the recipient party in the saying-goodbye scenario in the last year or so, and let me just say, I vastly prefer not being on that end. Saying goodbye is hard, no matter what, but I think there is something to be said for being on the leaving end. Particularly in this case, I have been planning this trip for so long, in some incarnation or another since essentially high school, it simply feels natural to be on my way. One of my favorite toys as a child (yes, there is a point to this story. Be patient.) was a marble-run, a series of snap-together plastic tubes to guide the marble through a series of obstacles.

I would spend hours puzzling over the route that I thought would be the most interesting trip for my chosen marble, and subsequently constructing it. But the best part, hands down, is when you drop the marble and hold your breath to see how its run plays out. Well, as far as I’m concerned, my marble has been cast into the hands of gravity, and I look forward to enjoying the ride, withstanding the bumps, making sharp turns, and fixing the snags.