On November 5th, I hopped on a plane and left Brooklyn for Amsterdam. In order to propel myself out, I had to look extremely on the positive side. That meant brushing off last minute disasters like almost not being able to check in online, a halfhazard packing job, getting to the airport extremely late, having my subletter situation fall through at the last minute, and leaving behind my kitty. I have arrived and now the realness starts.
The first week was almost a wonderland. Skipping around, looking at stuff, and almost pinching myself in excitement. When you spend years just turning an idea around in your brain before it becomes a reality, the satisfaction of just finally making it happen is enormous. But that passes and you’re left with: and now what? For all my latent masterplanning, I didn’t get the job I came here to do the second interview for, the apartment I ended up in is kind of a shithole, and the companions from my last trip have all fallen off the planet. I didn’t anticipate my nest egg of money looking so anemic by the time taxes came out or the loneliness of what it feels like to navigate truly everything on your own for the first time. I’m really coming face to face with fears and my inner core of steel here and it’s only Day 9. I may end up back home at Christmas with my tail between my legs or more determined than ever. Figuring that out is truly the fun.