Travelogue – Netherlands

I was surprised to find out, Sunday night, that I could actually check in online — even for international travel. They simply asked for my passport info — I never actually ended up having to show it until I arrived at Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam.

Check-in, that way, was stunningly easy. I wandered up to the “Easy Check-In Bags” counter, ran my card, and gave the bored attendant my bag to check. A quick jaunt through security, and I had a couple of hours to kill.

Mildly frustrating that the actual flight to Amsterdam starts in Denver — but there wasn’t space on that leg, so I ended up on the next flight to Chicago (which then continued to Frankfurt) and had to change planes. Not a big deal — I was in a front row in the middle, plenty of leg room (if little elbow room).

Transfer at O’Hare was also relatively painless, though short enough I didn’t have a chance to dawdle.

I lucked out on my seats across the Pond (though the Great Circle means I’m actually over land much of the way. I was on a 767, in a 2-3-2 configuration — and was on an aisle of the 3, with nobody sitting in the middle seat. And in Economy Plus, which meant some nice extra leg room. I made the reservations before the end of February, so I still had Premier status (sigh), which may have helped me get that seat. It worked out nicely.

Watched Juno on the flight, had a not-unpleasant pasta dinner, and, with the help of Margie’s iPod and some headphones, managed to fitfully sleep for about 4-5 hours.

Woke up — well, hardly refreshed, but not too bad off. Landed on time, after passing by some cool wind turbines in the North Sea, and, there I was, on Mainland Europe …

… which, given the pervasiveness of English in the Netherlands, was almost like being in the UK.

Passport control was simple (the fellow at the podium was easier to understand than many UK passport control officers). Bags were long in coming out, and the slide from the conveyor belt down to the carousel was brutal (he said, watching one bag, not his, send a plastic wheel flying as it slammed down into place). Met the Boss Man outside Customs (nothing to declare, not even a hairy eyeball from the folks manning the station), and caught a taxo for the 15km trip over to the fabulous Holiday Inn Leiden.

The Netherlands reminds me a lot of the California Central Valley, esp. up around Stockton and Sacramento — lots of fields, trees in windbreak lines, clusters of housing and industry, flat-flat-flat. And then, all of a sudden, you spot the spire of a 300-year-old church in the distance, or a windmill. Cool.

Checked in — partially. Turns out, it being 9:30a, that my room wasn’t empty yet. So here I sit in the little Business Center. I’ve determined, mercifully, that the 5-euros-an-hour Internet tariff only applies to the fixed PCs here; I can get a wireless connection for 80 euros for a week, which is only a scosh more than most hotels. Which means I can actually post this once I’ve finished writing it.

Like … now.