Skyped and Wiped Out

Friday morning, eight of us walked to ISM in a less than pleasurable state. Some were just tired, some were hungover from the previous night's ventures. The taxi ride to the airport proved to be more fearful than the flight. Our driver flew out of the parking lot, speeding down streets, giving us whiplash when turning, and nearly hitting the other taxi and other vehicles several times. I personally felt lucky to be in one piece upon arriving at the airport in Vilnius. The flight was a whole 40 minutes to Riga, Latvia, where we had a layover for about an hour. From there to Tallinn, Estonia, it was another 40 minute flight.
Once we landed, taxis were called and we proceeded to the Academic Hostel where we would be staying for the next two nights. We had a short time to drop our things off, and then we were headed to Tallinn University for a short overview of the history of Estonia, which we knew nothing about. After wandering around the poorly labeled and confusingly numbered campus for over ten minutes, we made it to the classroom late. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the teacher, who for all her genuine excitement about her country's history, couldn't keep some students awake. Those of us who managed to stay awake all looked bored, I'm sure. Although I found the history interesting, I had a hard time seeming interested, and I'm sure many of the other students shared my feelings.
When we were finished with the lecture, we had lunch in the cafeteria, and then headed over to Skype. For those of you who don't know, Tallinn, Estonia is where Skype started, and a good percentage of Skype's employees are in Tallinn and Tartu, Estonia. A lot of us were expecting a huge skyscraper with a giant sign. What we got was a building that at first appeared small and was in the process of a remodeling. During the tour, we worked our way from the fifth floor down, walking all over each floor. I felt like an "Alice-in-Wonderland" phenomenon had taken place, as the amount of space inside would never have been guessed from the outside.

The corporation was very impressive, with "phone booths," open work areas, video conference/call rooms, open areas for discussions and relaxation, and even a cafeteria where the employees get free lunch.

Heidy Heinpalu, the facilities manager, showed us around and told us some about Skype. I particularly enjoyed the modern and open decor, the casual feel of the place, and how the managers sat in the open area with the employees. The tour was very impressive.

When the tour was finished, the nine of us and Maik Huettinger, a professor from ISM who accompanied us on the trip, went back to the hostel. The majority of the people went to sleep, completely wiped out from the already long day. I sat in the lobby doing homework for an online class I'm taking.
Later, we all went into Tallinn and walked around a little bit. After talking about it and knowing we had the next two days free, we planned to take a ferry to Helsinki, Finland the next day.

Stop. Compose. Repeat.

As the plane from Iceland landed in Heathrow airport in London, I didn't even want to get off. The realization that I was at my destination, in another country, where I knew absolutely nobody hit me hard and scared me badly. Suddenly, I began to doubt myself. Why on earth did I do this? I couldn't handle this! Who did I think I was, coming to another country, trying to get around on my own?

Once I got into the airport, it seemed every few yards there was a sign that said "baggage claim" with an arrow directing passengers. I soon ran into the line where passports are checked. I got through without a problem, and continued onward. At baggage claim, I had to stop against a wall, regain composure, and then continue.My bag would be on carrousel five. I found it, rolled it over by some chairs, stopped again, had to remember to breathe and convince myself not to cry, and then go on.

I headed to the exit, which was not so much an exit as an entrance to another room where a sign proudly announced "The Meeting Point," and other passengers were greeted by smiles and hugs from friends and family. Again, I had to wheel my luggage over by a wall, and regain composure as best I could. I then headed to exchange some currency and get a taxi, in which I most definitely let a tear or two fall.

I wanted to doze off the entire taxi ride, both from physical and emotional exhaustion. When the driver pulled up to the address of the hostel I booked, he said, "Did you know it was a pub, Miss?" I did not. I made sure to research the hostels I booked well, and online this particular hostel said it was a no smoking, no drinking facility. Nevertheless, I got out of the cab, with my things, went in, checked in at the bar/front desk (where a man clearly shared my thoughts that I was in the wrong place), and went to my room above the pub.

For anyone else, this might not be a big deal. I completely understand that. Many other people would have been fine in this situation. But I live a self-sheltered life by choice. I am a person who chooses to separate myself from certain things. So here I was, about to have a nervous breakdown, and all I could do was pull my computer out, connect to the WiFi, and message my best friend. After a sufficient amount of complaining to him, I emailed my aunt, who told me she would get a notification on her phone, so she could reply right away. That's exactly what happened, and as we exchanged emails, I looked for single rooms in hotels nearby for the next three nights. I also looked for a church affiliated with the UPCI (United Pentecostal Church International, the organization my church is part of). I had no luck in the former, but the latter I found. Bishop Leroy Francis, superintendent of the UK, had a church that seemed nearby.

My mom was emailing me by this point as well, trying to help find me a different place to stay. With little luck, we decided the best thing would be for me to pack up my things and head to the church. My grandmother would try to call the church to talk to them about things when she got home. With this decision, I headed downstairs, checked out, got an unexpected refund for the next two nights, and had a cab called for myself. The cab got there within fifteen minutes, and the church wasn't far at all.

I stood alone with my bags in the church's parking lot after the cab drove away. maneuvering my things to the door, I pressed the call button. "Yes? Can I help you?" a female voice with an accent answered. I paused, not knowing exactly what to say, "Um, is there Bible study tonight?" I asked stupidly, recalling the 7:30 Bible study time for that night I had seen on their website. "Yes," the voice answered, then followed it up with, "Who is this?" "My name is Denise," I said. "Denise M---?"she asked, including my last name. A bit puzzled, I answered, "Yes..." "Just a moment please," she said, and within a few seconds, people were at the door, ushering me in, and the phone was handed to me.

My grandmother happened to be on the phone with the church staff that very moment. Hearing her voice, and being surrounded by people who at least believed what I believed and knew some people I knew was a comfort in the chaos. I met some people, wrote down my home church's information for the pastor, helped prepare some cards for mailing, and stayed for the Bible study. Afterwards, I went home with Sister Monica, a lady who worked at the church, who had answered when I buzzed at the front door, and who had been on the phone with my grandma.
It's amazing how everything worked out. What can I say? I serve an in-control God.

Iceland: My Brief Encounter

I won't have much to say about Iceland, seeing as how I didn't actually visit there.

I don't know why, but I was surprised that the safety presentation and announcements came first in Icelandic, then in English on the plane. The airline being Icelandair, I guess this shouldn't have surprised me.

It was a very nice flight, as nice as a flight that length can be anyway. Personally, I don't sleep well on planes; this one was no different. Although the flight was overnight (departing Denver at 5:15pm, arriving in Iceland at 6:35 am), it never got dark. I assume this was because of how far north we were flying.

When we arrived in Iceland, I was greeted by a field of light purple flowers, waving in the breeze. Once inside the airport, first thing was first: I needed to find the gate my plane to London took off from. The plane would depart at 7:40. Now in a larger airport like Chicago O' Hare or even DIA, it might take the majority of that hour I had to find and get to the gate. Because of this, a wave of panic hit me. What if I couldn't figure out where I needed to be? My boarding pass didn't even have a gate number! Since I had no idea what the first sign I happened to look at said, I approached a desk in the terminal. I asked the lady behind it if she could tell me where I needed to be and showed her my boarding pass. She looked at it, looked at her computer, and told me to go around the corner to gate 31. It literally was around the corner, and when I got there, it struck me how tiny the airport was. We boarded the plane shortly, but not before I bought a postcard and got some change from my purchase in Iceland's currency.

(This is not what I got, but I did get all of these coins except the 50KR one)

Before, I would have been surprised Iceland wasn't a giant chunk of ice, but my twelve-year-old brother informed me not long ago that he learned in school that Iceland is really green, and Greenland is really icy. I wouldn't describe what I saw of Iceland to be green, but it was nice nonetheless.