October 3rd - Cologne, 509 Stufens and a Revelation

There is much more to come (blogging wise) however, the last thing I want to do while in Europe is waste my time on the internet in our posh little hotel posting about what I have done when there is still so much to do. This is also the first time we have had access to the internet (that we were willing to spend money on, since it is free) since we have been over here.

My original intention was to write every night a brief update in Word and then post each one when I got the chance. That however has not worked out since every night I have hit the bed harder than a sack of bricks and dozed off contacts in, makeup on and all. If my ophthalmologist or dermatologist is reading this, I am very sorry.

Since the plan has fallen through I will instead post what I wrote the first night we were in Europe (October 3rd). It is amazing that I got anything written as I hadn't had sleep in 36+ hours and was running on my last leg. I will post about the rest of the trip when I get back but until then, enjoy my first thoughts on being in Europe.

Today I got my first passport stamp.

Amsterdam Schiphol was the lucky place to achieve this honor.

I was ecstatic and excited and a bit emotional. The whole trip thus far has been that way. The first few hours while at the airport and getting things in order were nothing short of routine but once we got on the plane for Europe I got sick to my stomach. Nervous energy was throbbing within every bit of my body. I have been out of the US before but never out of North America and this trip was going to prove to be a memorable one, even if I had to make it that way. I think I placed so much pressure on this trip that the whole way here I made myself a little sick with excitement and lack of sleep. The plan to sleep for five hours on the plane went out the window quickly and I believe I ended up getting approximately one and a half. The plane landed, like they always do and I realized that I was on land, like I was 8 hours ago. My excitement level dropped a couple of notches and I started thinking that Amsterdam might as well have been in the USA. The airport proved to be nothing out of the ordinary. What was I expecting? A marching band to announce my arrival and a parade leading me to the baggage claim? I was tired and my mind just wasn’t into it. That was until I got my passport stamped.

Excitement and giddiness filled my head and my heart as I thought about what I was doing. I was seeing things, I was living life. Paul and I were making memories and I could not wait to get started. So we did just that. We hoped on a train to Amsterdam Central and proceeded to make our way to Utrecht and then to Cologne, Germany. I love traveling by train in Europe especially in the fall. I mean is there a better way to spend a rainy cloudy morning but on a train touring the German country side? We arrived in Cologne, checked into our hotel and made ourselves leave as quickly as possibly so we wouldn’t get caught wanting to nap. First stop and right around the corner was the Cologne Cathedral. Amazing. Architecture amazes me in every form and medieval architecture is one of the most fascinating things in this world. It is truly inspiring. After taking about a thousand photos of the exterior and interior Paul and I decided we were going to climb the bell tower. We were caught in between two groups of people climbing. I think we all felt that if we weren’t pushing hard, we were embarrassing ourselves or annoying others. I know that wasn’t true because after only half of our racing up a spiraling tight staircase with people coming down towards us, we were all panting and thinking that we had just made the worst decision in our lives. I wanted to stop so terribly bad that I even thought to myself, “Eh, the only person who will know you didn’t do it is your husband and he has to love you anyways. Go ahead, turn around and go back.” But I pushed and we reached the platform that allowed us to view the bell and hear it as it rung. We got a small break from the rapid ascent as we viewed the large monstrosity and when we reached the staircase again and had to make the decision whether to finish going up or to call it quits and head down, I knew my vote. But Paul wanted to do it. And I wasn’t going to tell him no. He had done this before, and he was in just as bad of shape as I am now so if he can push himself to do this again, I can do it at least once. After starting up the next set of tight spiraling stairs I was thinking about how much I hated this and how I wanted to quit. Paul and I were the only people climbing at that moment and finally I said “Paul, I can’t do this, I need to stop.” But he pretended not to hear me, or he said something I couldn’t hear and so I kept going. Eight steps later I reached the top and I felt like I had run into a brick wall of crisp, cold fall air. I had never felt such a strong wind as it wrapped itself through the spires and the openings and hit my body. Cooling my breaths and my heart. I wanted to cry. I would have turned around and headed back to the bottom with only eight steps to go to the top if it hadn’t have been for Paul. I would have missed the amazing feeling of wind that I was being enveloped in if he hadn’t made me finish. I never want to quit anything again. How often have I been that close to achieving something when I decided “yea, ya know, I’ve had enough” and quit?