Travel Tails

I think it’s safe to say that I’m a pretty organized person. My house and office are usually tidy, and even my purse is not in too bad a shape. I will make daily to-do lists, and have yet to lose a set of keys, wallet, or even a sock (knock on wood). But whenever I have to pack for a trip, this horribly messy, chaotic and disorganized alter ego rears its head. Within minutes I manage to have the bedroom look like a bomb exploded, in spite of all the lists I made before hand. I will put a pile of clothes in my suitcase, then realize I need to get out Ziploc bags for my liquids, put them in the bathroom, and then decide I really should pack my carry-on first. Needless to say that within minutes there are piles of clothes all over the bedroom, bags are all over the floor, and the place is generally a mess. Everyone who knows me and has seen me like this, has been surprised, and to be honest, to am I. I really don’t know what happens, but I cannot seem to get my stuff together in a disciplined manner. I will misplace socks, chargers, and it’s generally best to leave me alone, since I’m usually not in the best of moods (probably because it’s so messy).

Now when it comes to packing though, I am proud to say that I am an absolute fiend. When I was a little kid, I used to watch my dad pack, and be amazed at how much stuff he could fit into his suitcase. My mother would have given up on trying to fit all of our clothes in one bag, and then my dad would show up, roll a shirt this way, push a pair of jeans that way, and still have room for an extra book for me. I decided long ago that I wanted to be like my dad, and I think I’ve gotten pretty close. I’m still not sure how he manages to roll dress shirts without wrinkling them, but when I decide that a certain amount of stuff will fit into one bag, it will. I take it as a personal insult if it doesn’t :)

So here I am, my bags are all packed, husband-dear has been instructed on when to water the plants, and I’ve put in my last call to work. And then the question always comes up: now what? I don’t leave until early tomorrow morning, am too antsy to go and do something, but obviously it’s far too early for say, bed. When I was a child, and we would go on long trips, I would get so excited, I could simply not sleep the night prior to our departure. In that respect, not a whole lot has changed. Only right now I have the added worry of not missing my flight, what on earth I am going to do on the grueling six-hour layover in Newark (I know, I know, but it was the cheapest flight, let’s all pray for wireless internet), and whether or not the strike of the luggage handlers in Amsterdam will affect me (I sure hope not, since I am usually not little Ms. Sunshine after such a long trip). A large part of me is, of course, also very excited about seeing my parents again. It’s been a long time, and I am looking forward to catching up with them. And somehow arriving at an airport and having people wait for you is such a wonderful, almost movie-like experience. I can’t wait, and let’s hope they bring dropjes!

p.s. I am planning to keep blogging during my stay in Holland (for one thing to gripe about how much I miss Georgia), but can’t make any promises, since I depend on my family’s satellite link.