(On the plane to Amsterdam.)

It's still 1 Feb back in America.

It's 4:30 am Netherlands time, and I assume I'm somewhere over the Atlantic now.

I set my watch forward upon boarding the plane. Not too hard an adjustment. I'm exhausted. I'll believe it's 4:30am.

Do you know -- though I am on this plane, and the turbulence is upsetting my already atrocious writing, it still does not seem real to me, what I'm doing.

Well -- I think I'm too young to be scared, too stupid to be intimidated, and too heartless to be sad.

My mom did not cry in front of me. My dad, surprisingly, looked like he was about to. "Whenever I miss you, I'll just think of all the fun you'll be having."

I haven't cried yet. I expected to cry, I expected to be nervous -- perhaps it'll hit me in a day or two.

Uneventful trip so far. The flight attendant and the guy in front of me on the small shuttle on the first leg of my trip regaled us with show tunes for an hour. Cute -- but.

The Philadelphia airport is freaking humongous. Shuttle from Terminal F to C -- race to termina A. Breathless, I called my mom. Just to check in. Good to hear her voice.

Now on this plane. On both, I haven't had a seat companion, which is ok.

The vegetarian meal was disgusting, but I ate almost all of it. I get so excited when I see tofu -- even if an ordinary sponge might best it in flavor and texture.

I have so little to say. This feels surprisingly so average.

Having heard Dutch outside of Teach Yourself tapes and Goldmember -- it is a surprisingly beautiful-sounding language. I don't understand a word of it, but I like it.

I feel hopelessly inadequate for not having learned more of the language. I let the fact that most natives speak English quell my American Guilt. But that's not right. I've been cramming for the past cd or so -- time being as strange as it is, I'll measure by cds.

The ease with which I have navigated so far-- I astound myself. Completely without incident. I suppose the real challenge comes next -- but I'm positive I can find the TREIN. Oh, no stopping me, I know what I'm doing.

Well -- back to Dutch and/or sleep.

(Hours later, after moving into my flat in Utrecht.)

This has been a goddamned long day.

Didn't sleep a bit on the plane. Hit horrible turbulence in the middle of the night and decided my mom would kill me if I died on this plane. And now, I'm really not one to worry about planes, I'm not, but when the sun started rising I mistook the blanket of clouds for ocean and it seemed we were maybe 100 ft from swimming to Amsterdam, and why wasn't anyone else worried about that? At one point I was sure we were moving up without moving forward, another we weren't moving at all, and another we were moving backwards. That's when I decided to stop looking out the window.

The first thing I saw on the ground in Amsterdam was a McDonald's. And at Schiphol, all the signs were in English with Dutch translations. This disheartens me a bit.

Though I thought I'd packed a pretty conservative amount, I think I broke myself lugging my bags around, trying to figure out what I was doing. I didn't even try to speak Dutch. I felt horrible -- just plowed ahead with my English. American guilt.

I found my way to my first train all right, but was horrifically confused by all the stops and connections and ended up taking way more time getting to Utrecht. Twice, unasked, Dutch men tried to help me. American guilt.

But for all the Burger Kings and Gaps, everything really is different here. And all I can say positively about the bulk of the day is: it is done and I did it.

Marlies picked me up from the train station and walked me through the rest of the journey. She reminds me a bit of Sandy, my first marching band squad leader. Anyway, she got me to my room --

Which is fabulous. Huge single. Bigger fridge than I've got at home [for Marietta], a sink, two lamps, a comfy chair, more shelves than I could ever fill, fully controllable heat. Amazing living space.

Met Francesca, the other student studying through my program. We went to the store together instantly and hung out a bit. She seems like someone one's friends with out of necessity -- we live together, have at least one class together, attend international functions together... Still, I like her, and her friend? Adam (on break from his year in Belgium) -- just that I wouldn't otherwise cultivate a relationship with either. The hour or two we spent together so far was like nonstop work. Friendship should never feel so calculated.

The other two inhabitants of our apartment-style complex are a Finnish and a Danish guy. I don't remember their names. (American guilt.) They're both extremely nice and polite and, especially in the case of Mr. Finland, quite attractive. They'll make good housemates, if nothing else; and I expect nothing else: both seem very shy.

Curious, both introduced themselves in English before they knew where we were from. Certainly, they couldn't expect us to know either of their languages, but why not Dutch? Why assume everyone speaks English? American guilt.

Well I'm entirely unpacked and must say I am really digging this single room. I feel very self-contained and self-sufficient here. yes, I had carrot sticks and ranch dip, chips and salsa for dinner, but nevertheless. I'm so running my own life here.