This is how it all started...
It was the first trip out, and for reasons well founded in my geekery and love for aviation; on the outset alone, I was happier to be hopping on the Boeing 787 Dreamliner than I was to be headed out to Europe for the first time in my life. It may have been a defense mechanism for me, geeking out about the transit, rather than the destination; this was my first time on a plane alone, going to a destination alone, to spend time; alone.
I'll be honest, I was scared.
My first stop was Amsterdam, and from the moment I first took a cold wintry gasp of air as I left the Airport-cum-train-station monstrosity that was Schiphol International, I was flooded with a rush of fear and anticipation of the day to come (or whatever was left of it anyways as I'd landed a little after sunset.)
I had Paris, Madrid, Barcelona and Lisbon ahead of me.
I had an tequila fueled. improptu reggae concert night ahead of me.
I had Museums that I hated and Galleries that I would fall inlove with ahead of me.
This is how it all started; that day I finally landed in Amsterdam, that I finally landed on my first trip, there started the stories I will forever cherish, and the path that to this day, I will follow.