Playing Wiffleball before the sun goes down
Street Enroute to Professor Forni's dinner
Sign for Loyola Residence Hall
Hello all and welcome to my personal blog. I wanted to create a blog so that I could relay back to you, my family and friends, the wonders that I will experience during my adventures through Europe and studying in Leuven, Belgium. I also wanted to create a memorable journal to look back on years from now and reflect upon. On that note, I begin my blog.
As I stood there frozen, at the threshold of the doorway, I was paralyzed by fear and forced into inaction. I had no choice but to go back to the place where comfort was known. I slowly turned and took a step in the opposite direction--nervous doubt guiding my feet. As I looked up, she was nowhere to be found, lost in a sea of people. It was at that moment that I knew I had no choice. Despite my fears and worries I knew that I had only one place to go--forward. At that moment, at that exact second in time, there was no other option, no safe haven, only the unknown--a fear often times uglier than the reality. And that was only my trepidation about the first day of first grade.
Yes, there are the thoughts that crossed my mind as I walked through the security gate at Newark Airport: how similar it was to leaving for the first grade. As I looked back over my shoulder after passing through security, I couldn't help but think about how I felt that day in the first grade and about the new life changing situation in which I was about to partake. That day in first grade my mother pointed me in the right direction and let me go, and though I struggled and at one point turned back, I headed where I needed to be eventually. And that is how it related to my trip to Europe. My thoughts ran to how I was beginning a new adventure, both excited and nervous. Excited at the opportunities that were to come, but nervous about what I’d miss out on. These two competing thoughts have battled each other inside my head since I was accepted into the program last year, and have continued till this day.
Our departure flight left Newark at 6:15 pm and landed in Brussels an hour early at 6:40 am. After gathering our bags and a short bus ride, we found ourselves at 80 Schapenstraat ("Sheep Street" in Dutch) and ready to being our trip. After having been up for 24 hours, the arrival at our new home served as a shot of espresso to our mentality. “I can’t believe we’re actually here,” became a common catch phrase that brought light to the exhausted eyes and jet lagged faces.
The first day was relatively easy, we had an information session at 11:00 with Christel Snel, whose fountain of knowledge stretches from her 10 years of service to the Leuven program. Then we went on a practical tour of the city to get our bearings down and find the basic areas. We ended the evening with a dinner at Professor Forni’s (our director from Loyola) house. After that, the group made its way back to the common courtyard of the old convent that now serves as Loyola’s International Nachbur Huis. We capped the night off with a round of wiffleball (which I brought in my large stowaway bag). A large portion of the group came together or was drawn to the noise that the courtyard created. Soon enough we had a large group bonding over America’s plastic pastime. Then the group stayed there, never went out, and relaxed, talking by the picnic tables in the courtyard of our year-long Leuven home.
As I stood there frozen, at the threshold of the doorway, I was paralyzed by fear and forced into inaction. I had no choice but to go back to the place where comfort was known. I slowly turned and took a step in the opposite direction--nervous doubt guiding my feet. As I looked up, she was nowhere to be found, lost in a sea of people. It was at that moment that I knew I had no choice. Despite my fears and worries I knew that I had only one place to go--forward. At that moment, at that exact second in time, there was no other option, no safe haven, only the unknown--a fear often times uglier than the reality. And that was only my trepidation about the first day of first grade.
Yes, there are the thoughts that crossed my mind as I walked through the security gate at Newark Airport: how similar it was to leaving for the first grade. As I looked back over my shoulder after passing through security, I couldn't help but think about how I felt that day in the first grade and about the new life changing situation in which I was about to partake. That day in first grade my mother pointed me in the right direction and let me go, and though I struggled and at one point turned back, I headed where I needed to be eventually. And that is how it related to my trip to Europe. My thoughts ran to how I was beginning a new adventure, both excited and nervous. Excited at the opportunities that were to come, but nervous about what I’d miss out on. These two competing thoughts have battled each other inside my head since I was accepted into the program last year, and have continued till this day.
Our departure flight left Newark at 6:15 pm and landed in Brussels an hour early at 6:40 am. After gathering our bags and a short bus ride, we found ourselves at 80 Schapenstraat ("Sheep Street" in Dutch) and ready to being our trip. After having been up for 24 hours, the arrival at our new home served as a shot of espresso to our mentality. “I can’t believe we’re actually here,” became a common catch phrase that brought light to the exhausted eyes and jet lagged faces.
The first day was relatively easy, we had an information session at 11:00 with Christel Snel, whose fountain of knowledge stretches from her 10 years of service to the Leuven program. Then we went on a practical tour of the city to get our bearings down and find the basic areas. We ended the evening with a dinner at Professor Forni’s (our director from Loyola) house. After that, the group made its way back to the common courtyard of the old convent that now serves as Loyola’s International Nachbur Huis. We capped the night off with a round of wiffleball (which I brought in my large stowaway bag). A large portion of the group came together or was drawn to the noise that the courtyard created. Soon enough we had a large group bonding over America’s plastic pastime. Then the group stayed there, never went out, and relaxed, talking by the picnic tables in the courtyard of our year-long Leuven home.
Nice first blog - but its gonna make your Mother cry .....
ReplyDeleteWe miss you at home - its very quiet....
Looking forward to reading more about your adventures. Does Loyola have a one year program for parents?????
Hi honey,
ReplyDeleteJust making sure that I can comment on your blog...have fun in France!
Love,
Mom
Andy - glad you arrived safely and seem to be adjusting well. I must admit that it is difficult for me to look at your pictures and read your descriptions. Nostalgia is a bitch.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, you spelled the street wrong - it's Schapenstraat if I remember correctly.
Remember to live in the moment and to enjoy what I came to consider the "unexpected adventures" during your travels abroad. You must be young and foolish before you can be old and wise.
Have a Delerium for me!
tot ziens,
Marc