So, sleepless night listening to huge thunder claps over Budapest. Just couldnt drift off, even though I was exhausted. No alarm necessary; I was still wide awake at 03:30. Erik and Rita rose with me to see me off downstairs at the taxi. My ride to the airport was spent smiling to myself, listening to Johnny Cash (When the Man Comes Around) and Mumford and Sons (After the Storm, Ghosts That We Knew). In about 10 minutes time I managed to check in, disassemble and reassemble myself for security, and purchase Oreos. It took 20 minutes, however, to get a cup of coffee. The rest of my time was spent waiting in lines, catching snippets of conversations and listening to people struggle through various grammatical problems in English, particularly 3rd conditional forms and overuse of the present continuous. On the plane the usual mix of passengers was spiced with obnoxious, hungover Dutch people, casualties of the football match (they won in the games death throes). I zoned during the flight, unable to decide what to do with myself. I took out my Kindle. Should I re-read Eric Princes account of his time as Blackwater CEO (Civilian Warriors: The Inside Story of Blackwater)? Maybe some Bill Bryson (The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid)?Robbinson Crusoe? I felt like reading Moby Dick but didnt have it. Finally I just decided to write this. I arrive back in Eindhoven as if decending from the ramp of a transport ship, the arrivals hall entered through yawning bow doors. No sleep gets to me. A short walk and then an hours drive brings me back home. Four lessons still to teach this afternoon and evening. Ouch. George Ezra soundtrack begins to play in my head.
Posted on: Mon, 30 Jun 2014 08:28:52 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015