Back to Canadaland!

*Cue deep voice*

This is the tale of a girl who spent 8 months in Europe travelled back to Canada…
Just kidding. But really, this is the post about my trip back to the homeland. It’s a keeper full of ridiculous moments and only “that would happen to me” moments.

So there I was, waving bye to Nunzia as my train took off from Essen to Aachen Germany. It really is a strange feeling thinking of the past 8 months. 8 months or 222 days I had lived in Europe. A part of me felt like I had lived in Europe my entire life and then the other part of me felt like I had only taken a two weeks trip. We had done so much; 13 countries and over 27 cities and my travel bug fever was just beginning. I wanted to see more.

So back to the story, I actually had an incredibly smooth ride from Essen to Aachen. I met some other travelers on the way who were admiring (more like staring) at my collection of bags and the Canada flag tattooed to the side. They key was not to miss the connection to Aachen to Liege. If I did…the next train only came at 5am, and it was 9pm at this point. If I missed this connection…I would not be arriving in Paris on time. That was not an option. So I arrived and had 29 minutes before my connecting train. Time and karma seemed to be on my side this time.

I had some help lifting my bag onto the second train and with that came a sitting buddy. I swear there must have been 5 of us on the train. No sarcasm whatsoever. It was dead empty. This was a leg only of 1.5 hours, so not a big deal, but regardless, it was nice to have some company. My new friend was from Turkey and extremely chatty. In 1.5 hours I can confidently say I know all about his past marriage, affair and current re-dating of his ex-wife. The ride was more so him talking and me nodding and smiling every once in a while.

I was relieved to finally arrive in Liege, except that this leg would sort of suck. I had to wait 5 hours before my next train. This was fine since I had packed a book and my laptop was fully charged with movies. However when I arrived, the train station was more a bridge…and open to the cold night air. Super. In addition, since it was almost midnight, all of the washrooms were closed. Right. Of course they are. And I had to pee. Excellent timing Sarah.

All of a sudden this guy approaches me and asked me if I was waiting for the next train to Brussels. I sure was. We started chatting and he had been on the previous train with me, and since there was only 5 of us, he thought he would come over. Super. A friend to sit with. Turns out he spoke excellent English since his mum is Irish but he grew up in Belgium. Cool! So we get to talking and he mentions that Liege isn’t really the safest part of town. Right. Long story short he offered that I could stay with him at his mums house. I said no thanks, I’ll be fine, but great offer. He was waiting for his mum to pick him up and when she arrived she started filling me in on how it’s incredibly unsafe, how if she had a daughter she would never let them stay here, etc. etc. I start doing the math in my head and 1) the train station was more an open area so anyone from outside can walk in throughout the night 2) there are no security guards 3) washrooms are closed 4) it was freezing.

I weighed the risks and went for it. I got in the car with Alex and his mum and we started driving to their place. They were incredibly nice; we talked the whole ride about travelling and our adventures. We must have arrived at their place by 1am, and Alex would drive me back to the station next to their house the next morning where I could use the same ticket to go to Brussels. Excellent.

So I slept for a couple hours and in the blink of an eye we were up again, and Alex was driving me to the station. The two of them were so incredibly nice and in the long run it was an excellent choice to go with them. I’ll never forget it.

So I jumped on the train and I was back to the races going to Brussels. I arrived nice and early and sat down with a book until my final train from Brussels to Paris CDG airport arrived.
This was it. This was the last train until the airport, and then I would be home. The excitement started kicking in.

Before I knew it I was boarding my last train. Of course with so many people, there was no room for my bag, so I sat the bad boy down in the hallway and grabbed my seat. It was to the side and in nobody’s way, but hey. It had to go somewhere. That was by far the fastest train ride of my life. In my excitement I was the first one off the train and booked it upstairs to check into my flight. In line I met another fellow from Ontario who had just finished his tour of Europe for business: how exciting. We chatted while we waited in line and the main debate was whether my bag was going to be over. Fingers crossed.

As I approached the desk I wasn’t feeling totally sold on the idea that my bag would be under, but all would be well. Anddd….MY BAG WAS GOOD! Wow! Totally shocking considering all of the shopping I did in Cologne, but alas I was on my way.

We boarded the flight, and I got into my seat (the window seat, duh) and was amped to see who would sit beside me for this 8 hour flight. A couple in fact, so that was cool. We didn’t chat much, but when the flight took off I enjoyed some wine and my movies. About 30 minutes into our flight I look over and see this:



She had covered her entire self with the blue blanket provided by Air Canada. Are you joking? Oh no. That bad boy was tucked in and over her head. Right. Thank god I was watching a comedy movie because I burst out laughing. Who does that? I mean, her hubby had the black satin eye wear trimmed with lace to block the light…but to be a blue blob? Too good.

4 movies later we were landing. HI CANADA! Boom, boom, boom I ran out, and waited for my suitcase. I had 2 hours from when I landed to when my next flight took off which was great, but I wanted to get this ball rolling. I was now in Toronto. Welcome back to Canada eh? Woo!
When I finally saw my bag coming around, we were gone like lightning. Now the real test: customs. My VISA for France was 6 months and I had been gone almost 8…so I was really hoping I wouldn’t get into trouble. I had done my research and I had received permission from every country in writing saying I was permitted to enter their country, so I should be okay. But what if you know?

I go up and he asked where I’m coming from, how long I was gone for, how much stuff I brought back (I wrote $50 cause really…I could not even tell you how much I spent). He looked at me and said “Really? $50?”. I laughed and said exactly that: I had no idea what to write. Alcohol or tobacco? Nope. Cough cough. With that he said have a great day. Are you kidding? Not one word about me being gone 2 months past my VISA. Superb. Let’s get out of here.

I tossed my bags onto the carousel to take my bags away again and with that I got into the security check again. This was getting old. One lane was open for like 60 people so a security guard came over and told me I could go upstairs which was empty and tons more lanes open. Off I went. On the way up the escalator I met this 15 year old boy who was chatty as anything. He was from Calgary and had just travelled Europe with his dad who lived in Paris. We flew through security and me and my new friend kind of stuck together. I didn’t even have to talk much: he was so damn chatty. It was great.

But it was weird: I was back in Canada. Tim Horton cups were everywhere and everyone spoke English. Weird. Weird. Weird. Breath. I just had to keep breathing. I mean I was excited to be home, but I really loved Europe.

The flight was quite smooth and since I am only in the air 49 minutes, it was a total joke. Shortest flight ever. Before I knew it we were landing. Holy crap batman: this was it. I booked it out of there, and was jogging for the baggage section. Now Petey and I had planned this: we would tape our parents when we arrived. Fabulous. So in my head I was coming back from overseas, so I had another gate to go through. False. The baggage section is open to people…aka parents. So I am coming down the escalator when all of a sudden I hear “SARAHHHHHH! SARAHHHHH!” No way that’s me…is it? Omg. My mum! My mum was standing at the bottom of the escalator – smart woman had pinpointed her baby.

Of course as soon as I reached my mum the waterworks start. It was the best ‘mum’ hug, the kind you can only get from your mum you know? Too good. So the hugs are passed around to Emmy (my baby sister – well not baby…she is 13; but she is my baby) and then dad. Wait. Where is dad? “He went to go get you an ice-cap from Tommy Nortons” To clarify: to us Tim Hortons is Tommy Nortons. Right. Good ol dad. So I see dad turning the corner with an ice-cap in each hand and I start running. Picture one of those beach scenes where two people are running towards each other and then the waterworks start all over again. Oh dad.
As if it had been 8 months since I had seen my family: too long really. But man it was good to be back.

As I’m standing there chatting to my mum, my buddy from Calgary came and said “have a great time with the fam….call me sometime” and hands me his number. Speechless I stare some more and he has gone over to greet his nana. He gave me his number before he said hi to his family; unreal. And don’t get me wrong: he knew I was 22, cause half of our conversation is when he wasn’t in high-school he would travel. Too cute. My mum is just staring speechless and I say “We met in Toronto. He is my 15 year old friend from Calgary” Of course he is hun.

Oh the many moments of my time in Europe: that was the cherry on top as I was finally back in Ottawa. Home at last.

8 months, 222 days in Europe and as fast as it started, it was over with the blink of an eye.