In transit

Funny how even an airport can give you a taste of another country. Schiphol's croissants taste sweeter and are flakier than those in Cape Town. There is a shop overflowing with bulbs and fresh cut tulips. I have Euros in my wallet. A Dutch toothbrush in my toiletry bag. Our flight was good, my wider/longer seat as comfortable as promised (you pay extra for it), the aircraft was spotless, the movie selection wonderful, and, most importantly, we took off on time! Nothing can make Ellen's flight to Cape Town any better, but we had dreaded  a repeat in reverse and so far no sign of it. So it is worth mentioning.

I have kept the Frenchie updated on our progress via texts, and I had a Welcome to Holland message from him waiting for me when I stepped onto terra firma.

Now a hop across the pond, hopefully as uneventful as the 11 hours from the southern tip. I will see my husband, my black cat, my neighborhood. Life translates as continents are crossed. I assume my other skin.