Things Usually Work Out for Me Part II

So here is part II of my journey out of England and on to the Netherlands. It's been one ridiculous mishap after another.

But some good things have happened along the way.

So where did we leave off? Right. Sitting at the Pret a Manger eating a chocolate bar and drinking an orange mango soda. The flavors don't mix but I wanted them. Both.

I then decided that things were alright. I would just have to ship it from Amsterdam, the luggage that is. If not on Sunday, on Monday. But first I had to get to my train at the Liverpool Street Station. I got there by 6, giving me enough time to pick up my ticket and get settled. My debit card doesn't work in the self service kiosks cuz I don't have a little chip in it like all the European check cards. That's fine. Jump in line and get it from a real live person. That's not too outdated.

I got to the counter and said something along the lines of I booked online and so I've got my reference number for my train to Harwich. He said, right, you know there's no train tonight. Long pause. No train to Harwich? No. Long pause. How did I book a ticket then, if there's no train to Harwich tonight?? He said those websites don't factor in when local scheduled matinance is happening so there's a bus replacement service. And why didn't I use the kiosk to access my ticket?
::sigh::
He "wasn't supposed to do this" but he arranged my bus replacement ticket anyway.
It didn't leave until half eight so I had a good 2 and a half hours to spare. Great. Might as well make the best of it and find a place to donate a bunch of clothes I wasn't even going to ship home.

I'd walked across the street to the police station where two quite severe lady police officers were working behind the desk. I'd asked them about a place to donate clothes and the google mapped a place. Apparently donations are simply left outside the doors of the charity shop. There aren't key drop off points strategically placed around the city. They said my best bet was to just leave it at the doors and either a homeless person would come by and take what they want or the shop will get it in the morning. Guess that works.

I made my way to the shop on Commercial Avenue. I must say by this point I was quite hot, sore, tired, and generally disagreeable but at least I'd be losing some weight in the form of a couple pairs of jeans, several shirts, a washcloth, and a pillow case. Remember, I was carrying a backpack, bookbag, purse, suitcase, and this cloth bag (which is all the rage in England, environmentally friendly, recycled, reusable, beige and borderline pretentious) with the donatable items. I knew the shop not by the sign above the door, but by the box of stuff left by the side of it.
There were kids on the roof yelling down at me in what could have been Farsi.
I put the bag of clothes ontop of the other donated box. And stood there for a bit. That's it? I walked all this way to get rid of about 7 items? Today has been a bear and even after donating those clothes, I've still got and unweildy load. Pink Backpack. Get rid of it. But noo! I love that backpack! I've had it since freshman year in high school when I was angsty about changing schools from South Bend to Elkhart and guilt tripped my mom into getting me an Expensive backpack.

::sigh::

There is a time for everything. I knew Europe would be the end of that backpack, but I didn't know how or when it would happen. Just like my courds. They were called home.

I took the essentials from the pink backpack and found space that was previously nonexistant in my black backpack. I left some slightly unusual stuff behind, but in retrospect (and even at the time) it makes some sense. I left the back pack, obviously. I left a strapless bra. spare batteries. a bottle of flinstone vitimins. uh, I loved those. Eating one every day has become a special thing for me. They're so tasty and good for you and the grape ones are my favorite and it's like a little after brushing your teeth dessert. I left an extra box of tampons. And another couple of teeshirts.

I loaded back up my stuff after some adjustments of toggles and straps here and there. I felt like a weight had been lifted. My spirits were soaring higher than they had since 3 pm and I'd actually gotten rid of stuff along the lines of the way I'd been claiming I wanted to in the first place. I just needed a bit more of a push, I guess, to take that jump from getting rid of stuff I had little attachment to, to getting rid of stuff that I did have an attachment to, but didn't need. Can I learn a lesson from this? I'm sure.

I got back to Liverpool Street Station and found a McDonald's with free wifi. Now Pret a Manger has treated me well with an hour of free wifi and trendy sandwiches and coffee, but McDonald's has always been there when I've needed it. Unlike Pret, which closes way early on Saturdays. And like I've mentioned before, McDonald's has a comfort factor deeply rooted from my childhood that Pret doesn't have. I ate a chicken sandwich, fries, and an orange juice.

I booked my hostel in Amsterdam. I'm a little last minute with a lot of things, as you can probably tell. I don't think it's gonna change.

I made it onto the bus! I made it onto the ferry! I made it into my little cozy cabin! I paid 16 euro for wifi and access to a little room with fresh fruit, a broken coffee maker, Dutch magazines, and sparkling water from a can. What is wrong with me? Ugh. An hour of wifi is 6 euro. 3 hours is 9 euro. Breakfast is 12,50. I'm gonna load my pockets with granny smiths and eat those for breakfast. They've already ripped me off twice and I won't stand for a 3rd.

I needed a Eurpoean adaptor for my American laptop. I have a 2 pronged one for my cellphone. I needed a 3 pronged one for my laptop. So. Shop. I knew it'd be a bit expensive. What was worse is that they only had British to European. No American to European. So I got the universal adaptor for I'm ashamed to say how much. Got it out of the package. It doesn't take 3 pronged American plugs. Are you serious? Honestly! So I tried the cellphone adaptor. Even though the 3rd round prong sticks out, the 2 flat ones fit in. So I hooked it up. And now my laptop is full and happy. I am not quite happy but full. I've had 3 apples, 2 bananas, 2 orange juices, a cup of crappy instant coffee and I'm going back for another banana. I must make something worth what I paid for it. I must.

I have been able to skype with my mom. I told her the whole story complete with facial expressions, hand gestures, and dramatic pauses. It felt good. Espeically since I'm in this stupid private lounge that no one's in but me.

So it's 3:30 am. That puts me 6 hours ahead of Indiana. I'm half way to Holland. And you can't be upset in Holland so I'm venting. I'm showering. I'm sleeping and in the morning I will be my naturally cheery self. With a suitcase to shead in time.

When I was back at HMC for the few random days there last week Seb B and I were walking back from dinner and up to college just after dusk. I looked at the library windows and exclaimed how beautiful they were and how beauitiful HMC is and how much I love it and how fabulous the library is and he said I was idealizing my memories about that library.
I've been thinking about it for about a week. Was I idealizing a memory and if so what's wrong with it? I've decided that I might not have necessarily been idealizing my memory of Harris Manchester's Tate Library because I spent many dreadful hours there working on sub-par papers but even in those difficult unruly moments there was still so much to love about everything else. There's something important about remembering the troubles we encounter, but I think there's no good in only remembering them for being a troubling time. After the fact is the best time to realize the good that was simultaneously present because often it's not obvious at the time. Or it is obvious but we're so overwhelmed with the looming negative the lurking positive doesn't have a chance to ease us.

I can't wait to say good morning to Holland.