Girl's First Log - Of First Impressions

It's been (roughly) 7 months ever since I arrived to this northern land. The weather was promising, as was the prospect of a decent-paying job (amidst the economic crisis, yes) and beautiful landscapes, but most importantly: the cheap plane ride out of my god-forsaken homeland - THIS weighed my hope in moolah.

So I caught a plane ride in mid April from Macondo Land to get to MapleLand at 2:30 p.m.

After having my connecting flight from Philadelphia being delayed 5 times, I was ready to call it quits through means of airport hallway defenestration, and yet, I held on to the dream.

I finally boarded the plane to YOW at 12:15 a.m. We departed at 1:30 a.m.
By 2:20 we were amidst the Maplelandian border.
We unboarded the plane at 2:30 a.m.
At 2:40 a.m. we met the first Customs agent for a quick chit-chat.
At 2:45 a.m. we the passengers went off to pick up our respective luggage at the respective gate.
2:50 a.m. - I was asked to go to the Left.
"But everybody else exited through the Right..." I thought. "OH," followed.

After waking through a short corridor, I stepped into an unidentifiable and all-too common, yet stiff, white room with white linoleum floors, divided by desks and cubicles here and there. I was prompted to walk further left, one suitcase handle per hand.

A ginger haired man (I will refer to him as "Ginger" forever more) in a cubicle addressed me.

Why are you here?
*Stare*
What will you be doing?
*Stare*
Who are you staying with?
*Stare*
Name.
*Stare*
Address.
*Stare*
Business.
*Stare*
Interests.
*Stare*
How did you meet? (*Raised eyebrows at my reply*)
*Stare*
Is this person waiting for you? That is to say, are they picking you up?
*Stare* *Stare* *Stare*
And my all-time favorite:
Do you trust this person?
(...I stared back).

These are just a few of the questions that were uttered by the Customs Officer, quickly and seriously, at 3:05 a.m. In less than 20 minutes I was expected to divulge a plethora of
details regarding my stay in Mapleville. A plethora of detail regarding a trip I had not entirely planned out (after all, it was just a trip, you know: one of those you embark upon for the sake of traveling? Oh. It seems as though I missed the Memo - are we allowed to make those anymore?)

At some point, Ginger took my passport away.
At some point, Ginger left.
At some point, the clock said it was 3:15 a.m.
At some point, Ginger came back and said he had verified all the information I had given with my "friend," that guy who was waiting for me - "he seems nice."

At. 3:25 a.m. the second round of questions began.

What did you study?
Why are you here?
Where do you come from?
Why are you here?
Which museum or gallery are you interested in?
Why are you here?
PhD? Where?
Why are you here?

At 3:45 a.m. I was let go. Ginger pointed to the Exit and there were no sad goodbyes.
---
My answers?
I am an almost 30-year old gal who hails from Caribbean waters.
I dislike heat and humidity and therefore seek the comfort that only cold weather can provide my skin with. I posses two Bachelor degrees and two Masters. I have studied literature, delve in the arts, and have a passion for the preservation of our historic built environment. Oh, and, goodness me, unfortunately: I like to travel.

As for the friend who was meeting me at the YOW airport: I met him online several years ago. We kept an amicable online friendship for those unspecified number of years.
I told him about my desire to be elsewhere, preferably somewhere cold, so I asked if I could come over for a visit. (A 2-month visit, mind you).
He acceded. Et voilà!
---
At 3:50 a.m. I met Monsieur D for the time ever in person.

How's THAT for the beginning of my trip?

Ah yes.
"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat!"

These are My Adventures in MapleLand.