This was the worst thing that happened to me in the first few weeks after I left the US: it's a pain in the ass to shower in a rave, but it's done easily enough.
When I moved to Dublin, I was absolutely terrified. Well, I would say less than terrified now. I was excited-with-an-edge-of-panic. (All of my best and worst moments are tinged with a bit of panic, I think. Usually because either something horrible is happening or because I'm pretty sure it's about to.) So I was pleasantly surprised to find that this was the worst thing to happen to me at the time (all bed bug jokes aside).
And now, a week and five months later, I'm leaving Dublin. I'm packing (and by "packing" I mean "doing laundry and I have an empty suitcase lying open on the floor") up and getting ready to go. The exams have all been taken, the papers have all (mostly... still got one left. But it's due on January 31st, so why not wait till then?) been written, the bars have all been visited.
I'm flying to Brussels on Friday. I get in at 3-something in the afternoon. And once that plane lands, that's pretty much where the plan ends. So if you think I was afraid on my trip to Dublin... this is like a whole new level of panic.
My program has been less-than-helpful in the apartment hunt (actually, the program in Belgium has been entirely less than helpful in all aspects, but that's a whole different blog post), and when I thought I'd found a place it turned out to be a scam.
Cue Stephanie freaking out.
I am extremely Type A. I'm a planner -- I like to know things, and I like to plan for things. (My penchant for preparation is based on a long history of being a complete disaster.) So this whole not-having-a-plan thing kind of makes my little Type A heart have palpitations.
But then in a conversation with a certain adult-y figure in my life who I had previously assumed had no wiseness in his life whatsoever (three guesses who that person is), I was reminded that the whole point of doing this was to get out of comfort zone (Also, you know, to learn. But whatever). And he's kind-of-sort-of not wrong. The point of moving was to get new experiences (although excuse me if I'd prefer that those experiences occur without the presence of bed bugs). Having everything prepared ahead of time may take away worries, but it keeps me in my comfort zone. And, especially after this recent apartment scam, I know that I want to be in the country to actually check the place out before I sign any contracts or put down any deposits.
Anyways this is all a long-winded, Stephanie-way of saying that I'm basically going to go with it. I have a few options for a place to stay in Brussels (couchsurfing with friends of friends or strangers). And it'll all work itself out eventually either way. So even if I have to sleep in an airport, it's not like I haven't done that before, right? :)
Besides, those are the kinds of things that make the best stories.
So keep your eyes on this blog, because this time when I say I'm going on an adventure, I'm actually going on an adventure. Maybe not a Hobbit-y adventure, but hopefully one with some pretty good stories.
This is our last goodbye from Ireland, y'all. See you on the other side. :)
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