We are not alone

The first thing that europe taught me, and keeps teaching me, (other than the fact that mostly everyone in the Netherlands would be qualified as a hipster back in Canada) is that you are never alone.

On the train from Amsterdam to Utrecht I was standing near the doors, trying to balance all of my bags, and ended up striking a conversation with a guy sitting on the stairs. Not only did it turn out that he was on the same plane as me, but he grew up right outside of the town that I went to high school in. In fact, he lived on the same road as one of my high school best friends. It's quite possible that I passed by his house many times and never even knew it.

At first we bonded about our devastation upon Jack Layton's death, which coincided with our departure from Canada. It was a comfort to be able to talk to somebody about the man who both figuratively and literaly moved so many Canadians. Not many people outside of Canada had heard of him, but he will never be forgotten within the country. The conversation went on from there, about school, work, ambitions etc.

We were both getting off at Utrecht, but I was staying there, and he was transfering trains to go to Cologne, Germany for an internship. Yet in our half-hour conversation we formed a friendship. If either one of us is ever visiting each other's cities, we have a place to crash. Free accomodation has got to be the best form of friendship.

This wasn't just an isolated incident.

On our first introduction day at the university, I met a guy who goes to my home university back in Ottawa. I had never seen him before, but in a school of about 25,000 students it's hard to get to know everyone. Still, it seems strange that even though we go to the same school our first meeting was half-way across the world.

I ended up riding side saddle on the back of my bike, while he biked back into city centre. We tried the other way around but my biking skills are not that great. This is probably cooler than any bonding moment we could have ever shared in Ottawa.

People told me I was brave going to a different continent by myself for an entire year. But I stopped being alone as soon as I got on that train. This is the type of experience that makes you realise that you can plan a trip to Barcelona with someone you've only known for two weeks and be ecstatic about it.

I've been here almost a month and I probably have a place to stay in ten different countries, if ever I decided to go. Being alone is starting to become a very foreign concept.

Wanted: Hansome male, 20-25 years old, strong with a sense of humor (age can be negotiated up)

First thing I would like to address is the title of this blog.

Lets start with the first word. Why travelling? Well, as of Monday I'm off to Europe on an exchange program! First stop the Netherlands, where I will be surrounded by giants (The Dutch are the tallest people in the world and I am a mere 5'4, on a good day). I will also have to try Mary Jane's brownies, since they are the talk of Amsterdam.

Why Granny? Well, I've been told by mutltiple people that I dress like a 60-year-old. I take this as a compliment.Yes, I am obsessed with floral, lace and crochet but I'm not the only one. I also spent 100 dollars at Value Village after my 19th birthday, mostly on "ugly wool sweaters". This could also be called hipster, but I like granny better. Do I pull it off? Hell yes, I am one sexy grandmother ;)

I am currently attempting to pack my life into three bags (two checked and one carry-on), and unless I wanna pay a whopping $15 for every extra kg, they cannot exceed a total of 77lbs. For someone who takes triple the amount of clothes needed when going away for a weekend (I honestly just want options, what if I don't feel like wearing the outfit I picked out for that day?) you can imagine the horror of my current situation.

So, if I ever figure out how to do this, my next step will be figuring out how my tiny frame is going to transport all of it to my destination. Being a girl, I could easily convince a beautiful man to help me, yes man, not boy. I'm tired of boys. On the other hand, being the independent person that I am I want to prove that I can do this daunting task all by my lonesome. I am moving half-way across the world by myself, so this should be a piece of cake.

I'll let you know if the independent side of me caved to the damsel in distress, for now, back to packing