Day 365 (Sat) – Fly from Dubrovnik to Dusseldorf, train to
Maastricht, train to Amsterdam, hotel stay in Amsterdam overnight.
The LOOOOONG trip home – about 8 hours travel time between
Dubrovnik and Amsterdam, plus a whole lot of rushing contrasted with plenty of
waiting around. We left the Sail Croatia boat in Dubrovnik at 7am (mandatory
check out time), arriving at Dubrovnik airport with FAR too much time to wait
around in one of the smallest European airports I ever had the displeasure of
being stuck in for an extended period of time. By 1.15pm I boarded a flight to
Dusseldorf (the closest I could get to Maastricht on a direct flight). Croatia
Airlines, I realised, would also be my last experience of random European
airlines. It had certainly been interesting testing the gamut – from the
absolute worst (Ryan Air, which took the crown thanks to our day-long delay in
getting to Madrid) to the best (for me German Wings took the cake, although my
one flight on British Airlines was pretty good… but that’s not really fair
given its not exactly a budget airline! I also hear from friends though that
Berlin Air is quite the treat … and my trip on Greece’s Olympic Air – the
Qantas of the Mediterranean - was almost worth the exorbitant last minute price
I paid for it). One thing I won’t/don’t miss is the ever-changing airport
requirements: different lengths of time to arrive before a flight, varying strictness
re checked and cabin baggage allowances, changing customs rules (or lack
thereof), and the general fear that at some point I, as a foreigner, would be
rejected for wrong passport/lack of visa/inappropriate baggage/all of the
above.
So I arrive in Dusseldorf, ready to hop on a reliably
efficient German train to speed me home – only problem is I have to wait an
hour for it… this delays my trip back so I don’t arrive back to Maastricht
until about 7pm which leaves me in a mad panic to get back to the guesthouse,
do a last minute clean (in which I unwittingly dump two or three rather
cherished items in the bin along with all the other last minute crap), shove
some food into my face, lock up and haul ass to the main guesthouse to… *sniff*…
hand in my key. The handover process took all of about 10 seconds… quite the
anti-climax … but that was the easy part. In true Maastricht style, by this
time its raining fairly steadily and I have to haul all my worldly possessions
(the black luggage turtle is BACK!) downhill in the rain and wait for another
bus. I honestly was carrying everything I owned on my back, my stomach, each
arm and over my head (thanks to the rain). Quite the sight I imagine I was (and
by this point definitely smelly and looking mildly deranged). You see, I was
JUST going to miss the second-to-last train to Amsterdam that night, meaning I
had just one last chance to get to the airport city that night to in fact make
use of my pre-booked hotel respite. And the last train of the night is never
direct, meaning I was staring down the barrel of another train change in
Utrecth, hauling all my luggage across platforms once more. The thought of this
– and later experience – prompted the observation that it is in fact quite hard
to go to the toilet when travelling by oneself. Either you try to take all your
gear into the toilet with you (not an option for this Turtle traveller) or you
risk leaving it on the seat under the watch of a “trustful” fellow passenger…
also not preferable. So, for once in my life… I held it!
This next bit I wrote on my laptop as the train (finally)
pulled out of Maastricht for the last time. I wanted to capture my feelings in
the moment, so I paste them here below as written at around 11pm on my last
full day in the Netherlands:
“I write this as the
train pulls out of Maastricht – its surreal, I can’t force my brain or my body
to acknowledge that this is the last time I will do this. I’ve done this trip
so many times before that I can’t make myself believe that this one is
different, that I won’t be pulling back in on the train at some point in the
not too distant future. As usual I have too many bags and too much stuff, and
I’m flustered and running late. I completely underestimated the time it would
take to get back from Croatia. I’m sweaty and stinky and unsettled. The
constant paranoia is there – passport, phone, camera, wallet, laptop… all there
so far. The worst paranoia is about my flight home. I have this awful nagging
feeling that I’ve got the time or date wrong. Because it’s the only flight I’m
taking by myself it’s got me nervous – no one to check it with. But I have to
keep telling myself that I checked with the travel company and I wouldn’t think
it was that time and date unless it was. Still I will NOT miss passport
paranoia and having to constantly check everything.
I just can’t believe
that was my last bus trip to the station, that all my worldly belongings are
right here around me on the train, that there’s nothing left in my flat again,
that I’m leaving… it really hasn’t hit me. Because there’s so much to do and
organise and think about its kind of preventing me from getting emotional – too
much else to stress about. Also it’s dark by now so I can’t see out the window
so I don’t really have that looking out at the scenery and saying goodbye kind
of feeling.
Instead I feel nervous
and paranoid and worried and jittery… this is a big deal, I need to get it
right. I’m still not properly packed, lots of stuff has to go once I get to the
Amsterdam airport hotel. Things need to be rearranged. I’m terrified my luggage
will be too heavy. I don’t want to chuck out anything important but I also
don’t want to be embarrassed at the airport sifting through my undies in the
check-in line. In the end though it’s all just stuff. As long as I have my
passport and laptop that’s really all I need. My phone is a piece of crap
anyway and I’ll be getting a new one as soon as I get home. And the flash on my
camera has shat itself so time for a new one of those too – good timing hey?
I haven’t cried and I
don’t think I will – until I get home at least. I reckon it will take some
weeks before I completely realise what has happened and what has changed. I am
already having moments of missing the girls here, and I talked about the
Netherlands constantly in Croatia – a sign of what it will probably be like
back home (sorry all!).
I had butterflies
almost constantly for the last few days in Maastricht while I was packing etc. They
went away most of the time in Croatia as I had other things to focus on, but
they’re back with a vengeance this morning. I’ve been starting to think for a
few days about being home, specific things, who I’m going to see, what I’m
going to eat – doing a MASSIVE load of washing! It is very surreal – a whole
year gone (it’s my 365th day today). I’m even spending my last night
in Europe in the same hotel where I spent my first night in Europe. It’s going
to be a very long day but when I go to sleep tonight in the Citizen M Schiphol
hotel I will be just 12 hours away from heading home. If I think the
butterflies are bad today I can only imagine the tummy turbulence in store
tomorrow morning…”
After the worst train trip of my time abroad (think sitting
slumped over my luggage at Utrecht for an hour waiting for the change over
train, drunk people everywhere given the time of night, sleep deprivation and
crashing adrenaline levels) I FINALLY arrived at the hotel about 1am! So much
for my grand plan to rest up. I didn’t get to sleep for another couple of hours
by the time I rearranged the luggage, showered, chucked out toiletries etc. And
then of course came the paranoia that I wouldn’t wake up in time in the
morning. I set two alarms but it still took an overdose of herbal sleeping tablets to send me off to the land of nod.
Day 366 (Sun) - BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. GAH! And just like that I
was awake again. 8.30am… my last day in Europe. Flight home at midday. Shower
again, final pack, check under the hotel bed (always!) and I’m out. Walking
with a trolley full of (slightly less) luggage, everything in reverse to the
first time I did this. Walking up to the check-in desk, having flash backs of
farewelling Brett in this exact same spot months before. And now the moment of
truth … just me and the luggage scale… e-YES! Just under, 19.8kg, possibly the
extreme limit of what will actually fit in my back pack. Quite the wait at the
check-in desk… eating in to my duty free shopping time! But there’ll be plenty
of that in the 18-hour lay-over I have ahead in Kuala Lumpur airport. Finally,
I’m standing in front of the hostie. Second moment of truth – am I here at the
right time for the right flight? Yes… massive relief. Off goes my bag, into the
luggage-belt abyss. Now just two hand luggage bags in my little trolley. No
time to waste, hustling down to the gate (at Schiphol airport security checks
are done at each gate). Rushing now, even though I’m on time, just need to be
at the gate as soon as possible. Me and every other person due to get on board
by the looks of it! For the first time, I’m made to go through one of those
full body scanners,not nearly as embarrassing as I imagined it might be.
Security check done, I join the queue of people holding boarding passes. Of
course, my seat number is among the last cluster to be called. And when I
finally collapse into my seat, I’m there no more than a couple of minutes,
taking stock, when a couple rocks up … with a baby! Again! This happened on my
leg TO Europe, but this time the flight is full and there’s nowhere to run.
Thankfully, it was perhaps the best behaved baby I could have asked for, and
the flight proceeded as normal – movies, plane food and not enough leg room.
About 13 hours later, ah KL we meet again. I didn’t sleep
much on the plane so I’m exhausted, but I can’t check in to the airport hotel
for about 5 hours. I have to change money for the first time in ages and have
no idea about the exchange rate. At this point I don’t care though, so I change
the wad of aussie 50s I’ve been carrying with me in case of emergency for a
year and go straight to an American-style diner for pancackes! Here I can sit,
use the internet, watch some TV and waste a few hours. Other time wasting
initiatives included buying a new wallet, smelling perfumes, getting a massage
and finally checking in to the hotel, where I could make use of the sauna. The
idea was to sleep there but again I was too paranoid I wouldn’t wake up for my
next flight so I just napped. At least I could shower though – I’m sure the
teenage guy I shared plane seats with on the last flight appreciated that.
Eventually the time rolls round to check in for my last flight
on this epic journey across continents. I have no idea what time it is at home
(barely know what time it is in KL but I know I’m in the right spot for my
flight). Having spent the whole year juggling time zones for travel and skype
dates I now feel like I’m in the Bermuda triangle of clocks… not to worry, I’ll
be setting my watch to Adelaide time soon enough. On the plane, I settle in to
watch a movie but find myself nodding off. I take the opportunity to get a
couple of hours sleep, but am woken for breakfast, and after that its all over …
I’m so close to home I can’t possibly sleep now. The butterflies are back. We
begin descending and all of a sudden I can see recognisable landmarks. After so
many trips descending over unknown cities, I can now pick out the Torrens
River, the CBD, Henley Beach Rd … and then … we’re over the airport … touchdown…
eek! Its dark, and cold – winter mornings in Adelaide. Luckily I have my trusty
London feather-stuffed coat with me! I’m not in such a rush to get off the
plane, but once I’m in the airport it hits me that I’m home and I just want to
get out of there. My luggage comes uncharacteristically quickly and then I’m
guided to customs. This is where it got interesting :P I put on my card that I’d
been in the Netherlands and declared my sneakers cause I’m pretty sure they had
cow poop on them still. The customs guy who greets me takes one look at my card
and goes “so you’ve been in the Netherlands for a year hey? … ma’am, we’re
going to have to search your luggage!” I’m calm, cool, not thinking too much of
it, have nothing to hide, the search goes fine. Then, he asks me “do you have
any food to declare”, to which I absentmindedly, and rather suspiciously in
insight, reply “oh, no, no, I left all my munchies on the plane”!
Safely through the first real customs check I’ve had since I
left home (thank you Schengen agreement) and then I’m pushing my trolley,
loaded up again, through the gates and there they are! First I see my little
god-daughter and her face lights up as much as mine, then here Mum and my best
friend, then Bretty, heads above everyone else(!) and Mum J J (Dad had to work so
his absence was forgiven). Hugs all round, can’t believe that after so long I
can actually touch these people again. Then before I know it I’m whisked out to
the car park and being driven home – along roads I know so well but haven’t
seen in so long. This truly is the definition of surreal… staring around,
open-mouthed, wide-eyed, exhausted, exhilarated. Heading home.
