Coming as news to some and a reminder to most, (apologies if you follow me on social media, I've gone a tad overboard on my travel departure countdown via Instagram and Snapchat lately), my older sister, Olivia, and I leave for Europe today! By tomorrow morning we'll officially be in Madrid and I couldn't be more excited, well actually I could be––the first leg of travel has unsurprisingly been a bit anticlimactic. We woke up this morning at 4 am to catch an Uber to Boston to catch a flight to lovely Newark, which is proving itself to be the Mid-Atlantic's literal worst airport (though a seven-hour layover here probably makes me biased).
At a first glance, the airport actually seems pretty bustling. I remember passing through this place en route to Rwanda and finding plenty of suitable (whatever suitable entails for an airport anyway) options for food and drink. But today? No such luck. Without even a vending machine in sight, our options at Terminal B upon arrival were pretty grim. Despite what I would consider a typical lunch crowd time in the afternoon, at least six eateries were completely shuttered. I ultimately chowed down on a half-frozen, grossly processed slice of fake banana bread from the "Ironbound Street Market." I suppose just about anything tastes edible on hour-16 of no food (really United? Couldn't splurge for a couple Biscoff cookies or a handful of pretzels?).
I love how cosmopolitan the names of Airport restaurants and cafes always sound. There's usually an unnecessary accent over various vowels of embellished signs that say something like "Clássicø Førnø Mågicø." The trendy bar decor and posh light fixtures always make the food seem so enticing, but the grub is consistently half as good and three times as expensive as your local Domino's.
After choking down half a $13 three-day-old minuscule vegetarian wrap, and like the good Samaritan she is, Olivia generously bought two cokes for an old man who couldn't seem to afford them at the register. Unbeknownst to Olivia, the guy walked off whilst she paid for the pricey sodas. She chased him down only to return defeated with two cokes in hand, neither of which she or I much desired to drink. As it turns out she'd hunted down the guy but he simply shook his head and refused to take them as he had apparently somehow gotten a coke elsewhere and didn't want two more.
"That's the last time I do anything nice for anybody," said Olivia as she sank forlornly into a crumb-covered metal cafe chair. Luckily we managed to sneak through check-in and security disguising our 28-pound backpacks as carry-on luggage. I don't know what kind of state Olivia would be in if we'd had to front European checked bag fees on top of all the other travel day stresses.
Nevertheless though, I'm feeling enthusiastic about the journey at my feet.
I'm also feeling unprepared.
Of course I'm thrilled to have the opportunity and ability to travel extensively with my best friend, but covid, cold weather, and limited baggage are among the few aspects of our journey that make me uneasy before even taking off. It feels like just weeks ago Olivia and I were lamenting over FaceTime about how we'd much prefer to use our savings on transatlantic backpacking versus rent or gas or housing bills. One thing led to another over the summer and before we knew it I was hitting confirm booking on two $215 one-way tickets to Spain. Shoutout SkyScanner, seriously don't book your flights elsewhere (but do be cautious of their "basic economy" baggage limit scams).
Though I'm not worried about Olivia and I's relationship as we navigate Europe alone together, it's fair to note that our travel styles are pretty dissimilar. Olivia's a go-with-the-flow kind of nomad. She finds no issue in locating a stranger's couch to surf and doesn't sweat the idea of not knowing what foreign country she'll wake up in the following morning. I on the other hand, feel physically ill at the thought of not having a well-though out itinerary for destinations weeks in advance. It's not that I need to plan every detail––I'm a connoisseur of wandering side streets and finding hole-in-the-wall eateries versus organizing heavily touristed museum visits and such. But I do need to know where and when I'm going, how I'll get there, and how much it'll run the wallet. So what's the grand solution to our opposing lifestyles overseas?
Good ol' fashioned compromise.
And by compromise I mean me booking flights and researching hostels for the first month of our trip and Olivia blindly handing me money.
As far as covid impact goes, travel day #1 is already revealing some major impacts that the pandemic has taken air transportation. Masking up is a no-brainer. Everybody's expected to wear one in all areas of the airports, planes, bathrooms, shops, restaurants, etc. with exceptions only while taking bites or sips of food and drink. PPE vending machines are a rather new addition to the retail category of airports, but I can't say it's strange to see them. Really the only annoying (yet essential I know, I know, I'm not a monster, just a complainer at worst) thing is the differing safety documentation one needs to fill out depending on the country they anticipate visiting. Actually it's not so much the filling out of paperwork that's tough––that's all pretty standard: passport info, itinerary, hotel addresses, dates of stay, etc. Moreover, it's the lack of clarity on who's qualified to visit where. Olivia and I basically had to gamble on non-refundable tickets that Spain would even accept us as tourists due to wish-washy articles and this ever-erupting fifth wave of covid. Most European countries seem to favor fully vaccinated travelers though, especially those with boosters, so we're pretty much in the clear regarding quarantines and required covid testing. After filling out the aforementioned documents, we were given electronic QR codes to present at border control when we land in Madrid.
I suppose that's about all I can offer for insight presently. More on all that once we get there and (hopefully) make our way to our first hostel!
Comments