Europe has french fries
Well, a good bit of my nervousness has now be transmuted into excitement. I'm in Europe! It sounds so stupid, yet it feels so distinctly different. But first, let's backtrack a bit. My flight from Detroit to Amsterdam was nearly eight hours and I was lucky enough to get one of the seats that couldn't fold back all the way. Could be worse. Everyone had little screens imbedded in the back of our seats, which we could use for a variety of entertaiment. At first I slept a bit on takeoff as is my wont. But not for long, a steward woke me to hand me headphones for the entertainment thing. I checked out the map, followed the plane a bit, and then settled down to a movie-watching session in which I devoured Robots (better than the shark one, not as good as Shrek), Hitch (much better than I'd expected, well-written & surprisingly cute), and P.S. (indie film with Topher Grace of That 70's Show fame, pretty good but I didn't catch the ending). I tried to sleep, but had no luck, although I did get in some good Mah-Jong time.
I didn't have a window seat on the flight over, so I didn't get to watch the dawn receding before us, which my grandfather told me to look out for. I didn't see anything, so when we came into the airport it was odd. This is an airport, and as such it is much like all other airports everywhere. The terminal we entered is evidently a terminal used mostly for incoming flights from English-speaking nations, as almost all signs were in English. I felt a little surprised it was so similar. There was no bidet in the bathrooms, there was a McDonald's. I was starving from the 8-hour flight (as a rule, the only airplane food i eat is pretzels). Thankfully I'd had the black bean burger before. I went to the food court and started to get panicky. I'd found my gate quickly enough but I would have to go through customs to get to it. Here I was at a McDonald's and I didn't know what to do. Would they speak English? Would they accept U.S. dollars? I was a bit confused also as to whether or not I'd have to get a transfer pass, for which there was a large, crowded counter. I asked some passing Americans and they didn't know either, so I figure if I need one, I'll find out when I try to get my seat assignment and make amends from there.
So back to me in the line, or rather by the line at McDonald's. I decide to ditch getting food for now and try the customs line, which is about 10 people deep. After a few minutes, I go back up to the food court. All the prices are in Euros and I begin to doubt I can use my U.S. bucks. I spy what looks to be a change machine and make my way to it. It converts US$10 to EU€6. Not much of an exchange rate, but I'm hungry. I try it. The machine is on but it doesn't even try and take my money. I know it takes dollars because it shows it on the sign. Dejected, I head back to the customs line, which has thinned considerably.
In front of me are a series of what must be Dutch men, for one, who looks like the European version of an English professor, is wearing purple pants. Dutch do that, right? Well he did. Eventually I made my way to the counter and a bored, spikey-haired Dutch twentysomething took my passport and stamped it without so much as a peep, says "There you are," and there I am. That was easy. Metal detector follows and is equally easy. Then immediately upon entering the concourse, there's a machine for getting Euros. Nervously, I eye the lack of English on the machines as I wait for my turn. This terminal is not the same as the first. Then when my turn comes, I put my ATM card into what I guess would be the slot, and it asks what language. Relief. I press English and soon I have a bunch of Euros.
It was then that a surge of confidence rose within me. I know it doesn't sound like much, honestly. Getting money out of an ATM. But it felt like a small victory, and it felt like things would just be easy here, at least in the airport, and I could relax. If you're a seasoned traveller and you're reading this, you're probably wondering why all the fuss? Well, I don't speak Dutch or German or what they speak here, whichever it may be, and I haven't the faintest what I'd do if everyone here didn't speak such excellent English. This concourse has some English signs, but most signs are in several languages. I'm typing this from a strikingly modern-looking food court, kind of like a more consistent version of the IKEA cafeteria. I went to Burger King (not much selection here) and got some fries to stave off my hunger.
I feel content and confident. It's 8:30am here local time, even though our time it'd be 2:30am. I still need to go to my gate and get a seating assignment, but I'm not worried. Now I have Euros, one less thing to do when I get to Malpenza (Milan's airport), and if the customs here is any indication that shouldn't take too long either. Now it only remains to find transportation to Milano Centrale. I am somewhat worried that if there isn't a shuttle the taxi will be inordinately expensive. The map on the plane showed Malpenza as being quite far from the center of Milan, and it isn't on my Milan city map at all. Once at Milano Centrale I'll need a ticket to Florence, and need to get on the train. Then a 3 hour ride, and finding my group in Florence and I should be home free. After that I can relax, knowing that for the moment my task will just be to wait while Adrian Kiger, our group's liason with the program here, does the guiding. Wish me luck!
I didn't have a window seat on the flight over, so I didn't get to watch the dawn receding before us, which my grandfather told me to look out for. I didn't see anything, so when we came into the airport it was odd. This is an airport, and as such it is much like all other airports everywhere. The terminal we entered is evidently a terminal used mostly for incoming flights from English-speaking nations, as almost all signs were in English. I felt a little surprised it was so similar. There was no bidet in the bathrooms, there was a McDonald's. I was starving from the 8-hour flight (as a rule, the only airplane food i eat is pretzels). Thankfully I'd had the black bean burger before. I went to the food court and started to get panicky. I'd found my gate quickly enough but I would have to go through customs to get to it. Here I was at a McDonald's and I didn't know what to do. Would they speak English? Would they accept U.S. dollars? I was a bit confused also as to whether or not I'd have to get a transfer pass, for which there was a large, crowded counter. I asked some passing Americans and they didn't know either, so I figure if I need one, I'll find out when I try to get my seat assignment and make amends from there.
So back to me in the line, or rather by the line at McDonald's. I decide to ditch getting food for now and try the customs line, which is about 10 people deep. After a few minutes, I go back up to the food court. All the prices are in Euros and I begin to doubt I can use my U.S. bucks. I spy what looks to be a change machine and make my way to it. It converts US$10 to EU€6. Not much of an exchange rate, but I'm hungry. I try it. The machine is on but it doesn't even try and take my money. I know it takes dollars because it shows it on the sign. Dejected, I head back to the customs line, which has thinned considerably.
In front of me are a series of what must be Dutch men, for one, who looks like the European version of an English professor, is wearing purple pants. Dutch do that, right? Well he did. Eventually I made my way to the counter and a bored, spikey-haired Dutch twentysomething took my passport and stamped it without so much as a peep, says "There you are," and there I am. That was easy. Metal detector follows and is equally easy. Then immediately upon entering the concourse, there's a machine for getting Euros. Nervously, I eye the lack of English on the machines as I wait for my turn. This terminal is not the same as the first. Then when my turn comes, I put my ATM card into what I guess would be the slot, and it asks what language. Relief. I press English and soon I have a bunch of Euros.
It was then that a surge of confidence rose within me. I know it doesn't sound like much, honestly. Getting money out of an ATM. But it felt like a small victory, and it felt like things would just be easy here, at least in the airport, and I could relax. If you're a seasoned traveller and you're reading this, you're probably wondering why all the fuss? Well, I don't speak Dutch or German or what they speak here, whichever it may be, and I haven't the faintest what I'd do if everyone here didn't speak such excellent English. This concourse has some English signs, but most signs are in several languages. I'm typing this from a strikingly modern-looking food court, kind of like a more consistent version of the IKEA cafeteria. I went to Burger King (not much selection here) and got some fries to stave off my hunger.
I feel content and confident. It's 8:30am here local time, even though our time it'd be 2:30am. I still need to go to my gate and get a seating assignment, but I'm not worried. Now I have Euros, one less thing to do when I get to Malpenza (Milan's airport), and if the customs here is any indication that shouldn't take too long either. Now it only remains to find transportation to Milano Centrale. I am somewhat worried that if there isn't a shuttle the taxi will be inordinately expensive. The map on the plane showed Malpenza as being quite far from the center of Milan, and it isn't on my Milan city map at all. Once at Milano Centrale I'll need a ticket to Florence, and need to get on the train. Then a 3 hour ride, and finding my group in Florence and I should be home free. After that I can relax, knowing that for the moment my task will just be to wait while Adrian Kiger, our group's liason with the program here, does the guiding. Wish me luck!
posted by Brian at 8:15 AM
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