Je suis ici!

I am here! In Albertville, France! Just about to drop dead from exhaustion, but first a quick update!

More to come later, but for now a few stories that I typed up while on the plane...

Here I sit, in a plane, 35,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean, heading East, towards Europe, charging full speed ahead at 651 miles per hour! This current reality has instilled within me extreme amounts of excitement, and try as I might, sleep will not come to me despite the lovely (though not particularly warm or fuzzy) blanket provided by Lufthansa. Which is somewhat unfortunate considering the fact that it is currently 3:30 AM at my final destination.

I am happily situated next to darling old German lady who doesn't speak a word of English. Or French. I tried both. Sadly, I am entirely lacking in my ability to speak anything German. Indeed, the only phrase I know is “delicious marshmallow” and though I haven't tried it on her yet, I have a funny feeling that it wouldn't get us far in conversation, and so after a few rotten attempts at communication, we have resolved to simply smile and nod affably at each other every ten minutes or so. It works. I pulled out my computer, and showed her my darling babies. She seemed delighted (who could not be delighted at the sight of those precious faces?) but it was impossible to explain to her where Haiti was. I kept on repeating “Haiti” in French and then in English and then in French again, but it was to no avail. I tried pointing to it on the flight tracker map, which was slightly more successful, although from her vehement nodding and repetition of the word “Miami” I'm afraid she might be under the impression that I spend my days with darling children in Miami. Oh well – that is close enough I suppose!

This is my first time ever going to Europe. It was always a dream of little girl Kathryn, and middle school Kathryn, and high school Kathryn, and now this Kathryn. For years, the three Wong women labored to collect a miserly amount of pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters in the “Europe Jar” - a jar containing the dreams of all three of them to sometime be able to travel to that distant land of great intrigue, centuries of rich history, a land of castles and dungeons, mountains and culture and legacy... Just a few weeks ago, mom uncovered the stash of coins that had somehow been lost in the move a year and a half ago. And now, now I am going to Europe. I'm actually going. For real.

When our plane flew over Boston and entered the great void of the Atlantic, it was a very strange feeling – one like that I had never exactly known before. As I watched the lights of Boston glittering further and further in the distance, quite suddenly and unexpectedly images of adventurers pursuing the thrill of the West entered my mind. I thought of the explorers who sailed across the Atlantic, paving the way to discover the unknown, and of the droves of peoples from nations far and wide who went the exact opposite direction that I was currently going in (at some 650 miles nonetheless!) I thought of the vision even once the shores of America were reached to continue to pursue the West, always West and West and West to the unknown and the undiscovered and the uncharted territories of the world.

But now I am going East and East and East. East to what? East into literally centuries of recorded histories – of wars, famines, great leaders, failed conquests, kings and queens, riches followed by losses, bravery and fear, peace and persecution, renowned poets and authors and songwriters, eras of lavish music and of art and of learning, thriving civilizations and human flourishing and human demise. East not into the unknown, undiscovered, and uncharted, but East into what feels like the profoundly known, forever discovered, always charted lands of Europe.

How fascinating is that? Extremely so. I was (and still am) utterly enthralled. To charge into the unknown is surely wonderful, but to charge into such a wealth of civilization and culture and history complete with the good, the true, and the noble, the wicked, the injustice, and the corrupted – oh it fascinates me beyond all belief!!!

I enjoyed my airplane meal of a small, slightly disgusting, iceberg lettuce salad with Italian dressing; steaming hot chicken with mashed potatoes, carrots, peas, and gravy; crackers and cheese; and a delectably dense dark brownie (too bad brownie doesn't start with a “d”. What a pity.) I enjoyed all the small packages everything was neatly presented in; I pretended I was playing house. An exciting imaginative excursion to be sure.

After browsing through their selection of movies, I concluded that none but perhaps a documentary on wildlife in Germany was really worth my time, and even that one didn't sound overly appealing, but I was overjoyed to see that among many musical selections, the entire soundtrack of Les Mis was available for listening to! Of course I listened to it, and I'm not sure what my kindly little seat partner thought of me as I was entirely engrossed in the music, accidentally singing rather loudly on occasion. Again I was enamored with the thought of voyaging to the East – here I am, listening to the powerful cries of the oppressed people of France in the 19^th century. But this time, I'm not just listening to great music from a great musical. I'm on my way to France itself. The place where the people sang the song of angry men! Let me assure you, it was one thrilled Kathryn who sat there in her seat, imagining that she herself was perishing heroically by the destroyed barricade. In retrospect, I am thankful that I refrained from proclaiming “delicious marshmallow!” to this German companion of mine; she is likely already convinced of my at least partial insanity.

Well I suppose that I ought to now try to rest for a bit as we continue to hurdle through the blackness above the expanses of the ocean. Talk to you soon!

Love,

Kathryn