Friday, July 16. Departure.

2:00 p.m., North American Central Time.

The first impression at the gate is "languages." Dutch, German, French, Hindi, Spanish, English, Somali, Swahili. Everyone is going everywhere.

I sit and eat an apple and try to calm down. Check-in was interesting--10 minutes wandering back and forth in front of the Delta counters, trying desperately to find the start of the line that would end with a boarding pass in my hand. 30 minutes in line. 2 minutes trying to figure out how to scan my passport in the damn self-service kiosk before a nice lady from Delta noticed my bewilderment. And then 30 solid seconds of stunned silence when she told me the 5 extra pounds I accidentally packed would cost me 150 bucks in overweight baggage fees.

Damn. I am 100 percent certain my new hiking boots are what did it.

3:00 p.m.

On the plane, finally. I think I lucked out on my seat assignment: a) it's the window seat, and b) my seatmate appears to be awesome. Kathleen, the "youngish grandmotherly" type (sweet, hip and funny), AND a seasoned international traveler who has been to Kilimanjaro before! She has waylaid my concerns about the Amsterdam airport, at least a little.

The plane is HUGE. From my seat, I can't see the cabin or tail ends. We have a male flight attendant named Doug who is apparently a comedian, too. He's very sassy and makes slightly controversial statements to the passengers. Lovely. :-)

I'm taking this time, pre-departure, to give a specific shout-out to my mom. Don't get me wrong, all of you have been incredibly supportive, but Mom, your departing words to me at the curb today were of pride and excitement, even though I know just how really nervous you are about me leaving. Thanks for encouraging me in my crazy, left-of-center, absolutely non-lucrative, challenging but oh-so-important-to-me life goals. You helped me step onto the plane today. More than that--you helped me get out of the car.