08/29/12 - First day in Belgium

So this was a picture of the last breakfast I had with my family at the airport. We arrived two hours early so while I ordered a bowl of Muesli (British equivalent of granola), the rest of my family chose the breakfast buffet so I bribed them to sneak me bacon strips. When the time came for me to board, I realized they couldn't come with me through security so we all hugged. My sister and I were joking about how one day 'Sempai will notice me' and my mom got all teary-eyed. I finally waved them goodbye until they were out of sight.

So when I finally managed to get on the plane, I realized I got the middle seat between a very quiet Indian intellectual and a belligerent but amiable older gentlemen. Belligerent in the fact that he started to create a commotion when he though the Indian fellow took his window seat but the flight attendant quickly pointed out he actually was seated towards the aisle.

I knew this flight was going to be at least 2 hours from Hartford, CT to Atlanta, GA so I decided to journal to help pass the time (because there was no way in heck I was gonna pay $9.95 for Internet).

As I looked back in my frantic scribbles, I realized that the only thing I kept track of during those 2 hours was how often I kept farting measured against the shame I felt.

So after we finally land in Atlanta airport - this is where I have to now wait for FOUR HOURS. After locating the right terminal, thus begins a quest to kill time. I found out that not only is this airport so big it has a subway built into it, it has a chapel, several food courts, and even a museum!  I decided that before my time actually comes to wish the good ol' USA good bye for 11 months, that I have one last good American meal. So what did I choose? McDonald's? KFC? Pizza Hut? How about a little Oscar Meyer hot dog stand that served these bad boys piping hot, delicious, and smothered in fixins'. I was so hungry I ordered two. 10/10. would eat again.

                                            Sweet merciful Mary that was good

So the time finally comes to board the plane that would become my home for the next 8 HOURS. Shockingly, they didn't have Internet but at least I had my choice of some pretty good movies and TV shows for free. So for the first 4 HOURS, I watched Kevin Hart, Margaret Cho, Daniel Tosh, a couple of TED talks, and someone else watching Black Swan. I knew I should've at least tried to get some sleep but honestly, it was INCREDIBLE difficult to get comfortable and I don't like sleeping in public places. So to explain the next series of photos, I was getting anxious with waiting so to keep my sanity, I kept taking a picture of the time tracker every 15 minutes until landing.

 

 

So after 8 LONG LONG LONG LONG LONGLONGOLOGNOGNLOGNGLGONGOGOGNGGG

hours and hour pretty, nerve-wracking turbulence, day finally breaks and through the clouds, I see my first sunrise in Belgium.

So after I get through Customs without a problem and now officially in my first foreign country! Excitement soon is dissolved by terror as I realize I have no idea where to meet my host family. The week before I told my host mom my flight number but honestly, I didn't know what to do after that. Do I wait by the terminal exit? Or by luggage pick-up? Speaking of which, where is that? 

The worst thing was the fact I didn't have a cell phone to call in that country and even worse, I didn't have her number. So after unofficial teaming up with a nice, older Korean couple who on my flight who were just as lost as me find our way to where luggage was, and just to my luck, one of the wheel had snapped off. 

So as I dragged my broken suitcase around, lost, confused, and clueless, I finally found an exit and prayed to God that somebody would be there waiting for me. When I exited,  I saw people with signs but realized they weren't for me, panic started to step in but before that could stop me, I hear a faint call of my name and turned to find my host mother and sister carrying a small piece of notebook paper with my name on it. 

At this point, anybody willing to take me home somewhere was much welcomed. She greeted me with a traditional kiss of the cheek and escorted me to their minivan. Not soon after a few questions did I realize how little I actually knew French so while we were driving to the house, to their amusement, I whipped out my French-English dictionary and tried to put together crude sentences.

I took my first picture in Belgium as we were on the highway going towards Brussels.

As soon as we got home, I kept trying to translate to my host family that my luggage had a missing wheel, but because I was distracted, I stepped on the dog's tail. Great first impression. 

My host mom helps me lug my suitcase up TWO flights of stairs to my new room for the next 4 months. I remembered my mom saying beforehand that I needed to stay awake as long as possible on the first day to catch up with the 7 hour time difference but within 30 minutes of my arrival, I dozed off for a good hour or two. 

Later, I asked my host mom if the house had wifi so I could contact my family via email because I didn't have a phone yet, but she said they have instead a plug-in cord that they were going to pick up tomorrow.

So, after an 8 hours flight, a 7 hour time difference, and 4 hour layover in Atlanta, night finally comes in my new host country and I'm welcomed with one of the most welcoming family meals I've been graced to be a part of. Not only was the whole five member family there, but the grandmother and two friends of the eldest. We had meatballs and fresh-made french fries courtesy of the father all outside on a gorgeous back porch in the cool, late August air. 

I tired to thank them in mumbled, sleep deprived French for their kindness and knew this was going to be hopefully the start of something wonderful and new. (As long as I can keep my eyes open.)