6.15.07

i went to danielle's new basement apartment tonight for her post-mcat party. it was full of engineers of one stripe or another except for her childhood friend kimmy and kimmy's scruffy-haired hipster half-asian boyfriend. he was well over six feet and had tight jeans rolled up to his knees like capris. they'd driven down from montréal. montréal seems to be a theme this week.

earlier today i stood on a concrete promitory of a hulking self-storage unit out on one of the piers. laurie sat on boxes of old files while we waited for kevin and michael to come with the car to load up. it was awkward, but a comfortingly familiar kind of awkwardness.

the most unexpected element in the course of my day was the presence of a freight elevator.

manchester

before we deciphered the departures board at the krakow train station to determine how to get to the airport, niki made an emergency run into the mall (all white, all glass, all modern) to see if she could find shoes she'd spotted the night before in her size. i sat on a concrete bench for a half hour, watching pigeons, guarding the luggage, and fending off overzealous cab drivers who may or may not have been legitimate. there was a gypsy family huddled in their own personal court a hundred yards away. seeing them in all their color, vague threat, and drama was one of the trip experiences i started treasuring before it was even over.

after a minor panic about how to get a ticket to the airport (and some early morning running for nicole), we lugged our luggage onto a little transit car next to some well-dressed german tourists. after awhile, the little train stopped in the middle of some fields and the driver started shooing everyone off. well into central-european-travel-mode by now, niki and i went along with it without question. we gravitated towards an even smaller bus, everyone man-handling their luggage, the driver careening around tight corners on tiny roads for the remaining mile to the airport. at intersections we passed humbly-sized shrines to the virgin mary, each decorated with flowers and trinkets, the details of her face always worn down by the weather. the morning was gray but happy.

the polish passport officer, decked out in fatigues, saw my last name and started addressing me in polish. he grinned at me. i laughed and told him the only thing i could say: "na zdrowie," cheers. he sent me on my way and it felt good. we saw the english guy from our hostel with his girlfriend/travel partner sitting at our gate. we exchanged words in the line for sandwiches. they later left for a different gate, waving goodbye to us and heading somewhere other than britain.

a scandinavian-looking woman sat across the aisle from us on the plane. she had the cutest baby i'd ever seen, something i do not identify lightly.

nicole slept on the plane. i looked out the window and saw the man-made part of holland, it's perfectly geometric coastline sticking out like a sore thumb.

when we landed in manchester nicole saw english on signs for the first time in eight months. even for me, gone some five days without it, it felt powerful. nothing could stop us from finding anything we needed.

in the passport line, all two hundred people on the plane went into the "EU/GB citizens" line except us. we were the only americans on the flight. not surprising for a morning flight from krakow to manchester, but still a little unnerving. a man shouter from across the cavernous room: "oi, are you american?" the rest of the plane looked at us, two small bodies adrift in a giant space. we were sheepish. we could've at least had the decency to be unpredictable and hail from canada, mexico, argentina, or peru.

when we told the immigration officer we were only in britain for one night, to see a concert, he asked what band. the arcade fire. he laughed a pub laugh and said, "ah, well, i don't know anyone after the kinks. have a good time tonight, ladies, and you're welcome to stay for six months."

after dragging our luggage down more streets (streets where we could read the signs!) we found our hostel. a ride in a very old elevator, more of a filigreed iron cage than anything, found us at our beds. a lanky, charming guy made our beds for us and flirted. eventually, he'd like to work on cruise ships.

we arrived at the hostel at about 4 pm. between 4 pm and midnight, we managed to: drink two pints at a smoky pub with a manchester-loudmouth lady behind the bar, eat tuna and sweetcorn, eat bacon crisps, get lost, get rained on, take a cab, shotgun carlings in hipster heaven, see patrick wolf and the arcade fire, and have another pint in another pub. we followed the concert exodus back to the small piece of city we knew enough to be comfortable in.

in the morning we dragged our luggage down the staggering number of stairs, making it to the front desk one minute before check-out. a woman's rugby team was checking in, apparently fresh from holland as they were all wearing painted wooden clogs with their rugby shirts. we had a proper breakfast of bacon, eggs, tea, and beans on toast at a tiny café before stopping at tesco for mcvitie's (one of niki's great loves).

an hour later we managed to have our one close call in the only city where we could read all the signs. the platform board said our train had arrived was, indeed, the front train. we got ourselves settled, enjoying the luxury of extra time and fully-legible signage. niki set up her computer and started going through photos. after a bit i started to worry, noticing all the tickers in the car said we were going to bournemouth, not doncaster. as my panic grew, niki ran up and down the platform trying to find someone who could tell us if we were on the right train or not. one man kept saying, "it's the front train, the front train!" we thought we were in the front, but we grabbed our bags and jumped off the train by sheer force of his gesticulations. with just over one minute to spare we ran down the platform, luggage banging into the backs of my knees all the way.

it became clear there were, in fact, two trains. when we'd boarded the first one the second, our train, had yet to arrive. tricky brits. all the signs in the world couldn't save us. we shoved our luggage somewhere we could see it and settled in, a car full of heads turning towards our commotion.

the train wound north. a girl behind me read, as did a moderately attractive guy next to me. he kept laughing at his dostoyevsky, which made me wonder. a woman ahead of us talked the ear off a young man with gel in his hair and an abercrombie-style shirt that said something about cheerleaders. he listened to her chatter with endless patience. his round-faced kindness continued even as we got off the train in doncaster.

the green hills of northern england we saw on that ride were life-changing. i ran my new amber necklace through my fingers and looked out all the windows i could see.

we took a commuter bus full of homeward-bound school children to the airport. they talked about sex, football, and dinner, and were hilarious and charming. flowers were blooming and we saw a lot of people's front yards.

britain, it turns out, is one of my homes.

we bought more crisps and chocolate at the airport. we stood in a line full of bachelor and hen parties to check our bags to prague. i emailed jcn, uncle frank, and my parents from an internet kiosk (a pound for 15 minutes).

later, we took off, my fifth of eight forays into the sky. we flew away from the sunset into the dark. i could tell we were back over the ocean when the hard, white outline of england's southeastern coast dropped off into blackness. later still, spangled webs of light appeared, getting thicker as we neared prague.

spiderwebs littering the lawn, limned with morning dew.