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Floris went downstairs and fell asleep by about 1 and I only played on the computer till about 2:30 on Thursday night, so Friday morning we were up by maybe 10:30. We took a bus out to town, me leaving my stuff at the house since his mom insisted she could bring it up when it was time for me to get on the train eastward.
The walk to the bus stop, though not more than 10 minutes, seemed very impressive because the mist coming off the canals made the directional winter sunshine luminescent in all of the air. It was hard to look at anything, because everything was so bright. We had a bit of a wait for the bus, just sitting at the little roofed stop, and I was trying hard not to think about how I only had a few hours before I had to go, and he asked me if I liked games. What kind of games, I asked? Figuring-things-out games, he said, where I had to think about how to accomplish something, without being told the answer. I think he meant puzzles. I said sure. He gave me a little blue pouch and said "You have to give this back to me, not now, but sometime. You have to do it without mailing, and you can't give it to someone else to take. You have to figure out how to give it back to me." I undid the flap on the tiny pouch and looked inside, and it was the rosary I'd seen him wearing all week. So now I have it. Which is kind of cool. I have to give it back without mailing it or sending it with someone else. I think I know the answer. "Now you have a reason to come back," he said. "More than one," I replied.
There was enough time before my train (we learned when he called his dad and asked about the times, since the 's-Hertogenbosch station information people didn't have the Hispeed train schedules) that we could walk around in the city and have lunch at the same cafe, Opium, where everybody knows Floris and he always gives them a 20 whether it's over or under (this time it was slightly over). I had a a revelatory BLTC (C for Chicken) sandwich, which served me well the rest of the day.
Too soon it was nearly 3pm and time to go to the station, where his mom had brought my backpack and mandolin. She kissed me on one cheek, then the other, then back to the first, and wished me a good trip, saying it was lovely to have me stay there. She's very sweet. Floris walked me up to the ticket line and stood with me while I tried (mostly successfully) not to cry, and then saved me from mistaking the platform and saw me off onto the train with a "See you again." and a kiss.
I didn't hold it together very well as I got on the train and looked back at him before going down to the seats, but luckily a talkative Ghanaian guy was in the seat across from the one I picked and gave me a kleenex and told me women shouldn't cry, and we talked till I got off in Utrecht. The rest of the train trip is another story.
The walk to the bus stop, though not more than 10 minutes, seemed very impressive because the mist coming off the canals made the directional winter sunshine luminescent in all of the air. It was hard to look at anything, because everything was so bright. We had a bit of a wait for the bus, just sitting at the little roofed stop, and I was trying hard not to think about how I only had a few hours before I had to go, and he asked me if I liked games. What kind of games, I asked? Figuring-things-out games, he said, where I had to think about how to accomplish something, without being told the answer. I think he meant puzzles. I said sure. He gave me a little blue pouch and said "You have to give this back to me, not now, but sometime. You have to do it without mailing, and you can't give it to someone else to take. You have to figure out how to give it back to me." I undid the flap on the tiny pouch and looked inside, and it was the rosary I'd seen him wearing all week. So now I have it. Which is kind of cool. I have to give it back without mailing it or sending it with someone else. I think I know the answer. "Now you have a reason to come back," he said. "More than one," I replied.
There was enough time before my train (we learned when he called his dad and asked about the times, since the 's-Hertogenbosch station information people didn't have the Hispeed train schedules) that we could walk around in the city and have lunch at the same cafe, Opium, where everybody knows Floris and he always gives them a 20 whether it's over or under (this time it was slightly over). I had a a revelatory BLTC (C for Chicken) sandwich, which served me well the rest of the day.
Too soon it was nearly 3pm and time to go to the station, where his mom had brought my backpack and mandolin. She kissed me on one cheek, then the other, then back to the first, and wished me a good trip, saying it was lovely to have me stay there. She's very sweet. Floris walked me up to the ticket line and stood with me while I tried (mostly successfully) not to cry, and then saved me from mistaking the platform and saw me off onto the train with a "See you again." and a kiss.
I didn't hold it together very well as I got on the train and looked back at him before going down to the seats, but luckily a talkative Ghanaian guy was in the seat across from the one I picked and gave me a kleenex and told me women shouldn't cry, and we talked till I got off in Utrecht. The rest of the train trip is another story.