Transit @ Dutch Land

On the flight back from Florence to Los Angeles, KLM granted me the chance to again land on the Dutch land for a very short while to refresh my memory of the low land. The weather was horrible, raining and foggy, which delayed our flight to take-off already in Firenze to ensure possible landing in Amsterdam. In fact, we were very worried a night before as we met a guy who returned to the hotel from the airport because of the weather condition in Amsterdam. The delay gave me literally no time to to shop for a piece of Gauda cheese in the airport; nor a chance to weep or become sentimental for the place I miss greatly.

Looking out the window, I remember vividly how I would secretly swear on mt bike in a morning like this, knowing I would be completely wet when arriving the office. But at the same time, I wondered why my good friend had not wrote to me. On the day we parted, he say that he will write to me about the lousy Dutch weather so that I don't miss them too much..... I guess he must misses me as well, for a cup of coffee I owe him. Knowing his PhD defense is coming up, I felt bad not having the chance to gave him the support he had given me.

At the boarder gate, the officer flipped though my passport pages trying to find my visa and figuring out where I entered the Schengen (European) area and where I had been. He seems very puzzled by all the Schiphol airport stamps on various pages when I meddled and explained that I had been studying here for some years. He was surprised that I speak hardly any Dutch and made fun of the French people by suggesting they must have forgotten to stamp on my passport when I made the transit in Paris in entering the European Union. Rushing through the airport hall, I was only able to take a breath and feel the Dutch land under my feet when I boarded my flight.

The rain continued under the gray gray sky.

Six year went by so quickly, at the same time carefully left a mark on my heart. Netherlands, the country I learn how to bike, the country I explored mostly on my own, the place I acquire a taste for cheese and so much more.

Not knowing when I will come back, yet I had to say good-bye. I know deeply, I will always have a soft spot for this raining wet land in my heart....