Time Traveling

Here we are at September - embarking on my absolute favorite time of year (particularly in the Netherlands), and diving into action.

This morning I find myself in Hilversum (by way of Amsterdam), securing some of the final steps of my Visa paperwork and beyond excited for every next step. After a way-too-short two week long vacation in the USA with my family and boyfriend, whom had never been there before, it feels a little like that trip was all a dream. The last time I recall consciously thinking "in no time, I'll be back in Amsterdam again", was somewhere along the coast of Maine a couple weeks ago. Almighty Time will never cease to amaze, especially when it comes to literally hopping across different time zones.

So where do I begin?

Months ago, late April to be exact, I was back in New York for three weeks to visit my family, when Bruno, (boyfriend), started talking about joining me for the next trip back home. Even though our relationship had just begun, (with many months of close friendship preceding), I felt confident that this was going to happen. I mentioned in a last post that he's Belgian, and he had never been to the USA, so I figured - what better time than the midst of Trump madness and political upheaval? Let's give him all those American extremes!

Just kidding. In reality, I prayed that we would be able to plan our trip back around my family's summer Maine vacation and he could hopefully hide among the craggy ocean shores eating Lobster and discussing New England's colorful history with my father. That's closer to what happened.

The weekend we boarded our flight(s) to Boston was Gay Pride in Amsterdam, the celebration for Euro Pride, and the most annoying train construction I've ever experienced. We grabbed a bus to Schiphol Airport rather than our usual 10 minute train ride, stood in a huge line to check in, and then calmly awaited boarding time. That trip was filled with delays - an hour delay from Amsterdam to Iceland, an hour delay from Iceland to Boston... But somehow this didn't cramp our style. We laughed and goofed off and chomped on cucumber slices and carrots we had packed in our carry-ons and the next thing I knew we were descending over Boston. Yay!!!! America!!

It was a very strange experience to bring Bruno, who was such an established part of my 'other world' (not to get too 'Vampire Diaries' on you), to meet my parents, in the USA, where I was raised in all of my quirky, crazy, rollercoaster-ride goodness. He already had an intermediate knowledge of my family from the crazy amount of stories I had told (and the unfortunate exposure to my brother and sister's nicknames for me via Facebook), but still, it was a little nuts! I think everyone was shell-shocked at first, but we headed to an Airport restaurant and started the two week journey through New York and New England. Bruno had his first ever 'clam chowda', I had a regrettable Sam Summer (which led to me passing out shortly after dinner), and my parents were beaming and excited to start showing Bruno the Norman version of America.

It became immediately apparent to me upon arriving that this was going to be a trip home unlike any trip home before. Part of this was, of course, I was bringing somebody to share it with me. But actually a lot of it had to do with how much had changed since the last time.

As I know I've said before, and at the risk of sounding terribly redundant... I never expected to wind up living in the Netherlands for more than a few months. I thought that I would maybe stay here for some time, audition and wind up in another European city by the end of my visa or back home in New York - which would be fine with me! And maybe it's because I had such a temporary approach to things, but all of a sudden now I'm looking at staying at least this next year, maybe (probably) a lot longer, and creating a foundation for a life I already love. That happened fast, unexpectedly, and perhaps... slightly before I felt 'ready' for it.

This time last year, I was back in New York packing my things up, taking a lot of deep breaths and making a lot of to-do lists, and saying "okay, see you in a few months" to my friends and loved ones. I felt rebellious doing it, as if I were cheating the system or playing hooky somehow, and also completely up for whatever came. This time, I felt the strength of what had changed right away: I was back with my family, in a place I will always call 'Home', but very aware that this time... my home is indefinitely in Europe.

None of this is a huge shock to me. I fell in love with Europe back in 2008 when I spent the summer babysitting and singing in Paris, alongside the same best friend who gave me a place to start a life in Amsterdam, babysitting (her girls) and singing here. Not everyone would look at this path and see how it works. But I did - I always have. I have found more profound meaning in sorting a tantrum out with a three year old and discussing why butterflies only come out in summer (all managed in more than one language), than some of the longest hours of my life spent in meetings and conference calls.

That doesn't mean I don't attend meetings or hold conference calls anymore. But they don't run my life - they're in attendance. They are accompanying the train rides, horrific attempts at Dutch, the hours writing in a journal and holding hands with the little kids, and big kids, of my life all day, singing through nerves in front of crowds of people who probably really don't understand me, and constantly, daily standing in awe of this world.

Last night, Bruno and I biked along the canal to get to our dinner reservation at 8:30 in a hopping neighbourhood near the red light district. The sun was setting, casting a pink glow on the water beside us and as I followed close behind him I said "sometimes I'm so amazed by the beauty of this place that I don't even care if I accidentally fall in." I'm pretty sure these words invited future attempts of Bruno dumping me into the canal... but I meant it in more ways than one. I've fallen hard for this city. For the way it has welcomed me. For the quirky, dry sense of humor found on every street. For its persistent acceptance of every human being. For the days I wondered what the hell I was doing here, only to look around me and see 100 reasons staring back. Europe may be a complicated place, but it has never once failed to show me solutions I didn't think of. Or, even more adventurous, who I really am.

So this time, when we hugged goodbye in Boston and I broke down trying to thank my incredibly generous parents for everything they did for us in two weeks time, I was able to laugh at how cheesy I am and know that this is manageable. I wish I had a private jet to go see my family every weekend, but the distance is easily bridged and the home on either side is more than I ever expected for myself. The uncertainty and adventure of this time has been worth it in more ways than I can count. And all this before being fluent enough to understand what people are really saying around me each day....