It was not an auspicious first day in Holland. My bags were still in London and my room at the inn had been given away. And I was to set off the next day for an inline skating trip in Friesland. 
This is normally the time that many people explode. Or cry. Or pound their fists on their travel companion. I didn't have a travel companion. I'd arrived on my own, as I'm wont to do. Who was I going to scream at? Cry to? Pound on?
No one. So I skipped the drama. And went about figuring out what to do next. The innkeeper called around and couldn't find any available rooms. He felt so bad that he put me up for the night at his home, five doors down from the inn. (That's another story for another time.)
The next day, I joined my group. We hung around with our stuff, waiting for a van to take us to the starting point outside of Amsterdam. A woman named Vivian asked me where my luggage was. I told her I didn't have it. And I didn't know when I'd get it.
She looked at me, surprised. "You're awfully calm." As I've said already, what were my options? Freak out. Or not. Either way, I didn't have my luggage.
Vivian offered me
some of her clothes. She seemed pretty small to me. I couldn't bear the
thought of struggling into her tiny togs.
Luckily, I was able to buy some t-shirts and shorts
that afternoon in Enkhuisen. But I gotta tell you, those Dutch are tall
people. I had to tie knots in the bottoms of the small men's t-shirts
to keep them at a decent level above my knees.
I'd been smart enough to take the skates on board the
plane on the outside chance the airline lost my luggage. Everyday
things are easy to replace. Skates, not so much.
My bags
didn't catch up to me until four days later. But things worked out. I
had my skates. I had some clothes. I had soap for washing those clothes
in the sink. And I was with a dozen people who liked to skate as much
as I did.
When the suitcase finally arrived, I was appalled at how much I'd packed. Who needed all that crap?!
Photo: Ellen Perlman. Skating the bike paths of Holland
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