Early this morning, after a short night and preparations of all kinds – closing the house, final instructions at the firm, packing bags, unpacking bags, packing bags again, wrapping up things – we hopped on a taxi to Berlin Tegel Airport. A neighbor was so kind to get up early to capture the moment of our departure. While she was taking the photo, we figured that the taxi driver could have done that, too, but hey, it’s early…
We arrive at Tegel and try to shake off that morning with an airport breakfast. And then, finally, it is time to take off. It is real now. We are going to the US. For three months.
As the plane lifts into the sky, I sense this feeling of joy and anticipation. All this time ahead of us four. What a unique opportunity, and what a privilege.
The children are the best travel buddies and appear as if they have done this several times already even though it’s only their second flight ever. I can hear a flight attendant say to the other: ‘Get those little ones with the cute headphones something to drink’.
Eight and a half hours and several movies and most absurd children’s’ cartoons later, we arrive at Newark. To my surprise, everything goes smoothly: my American guitar, which I have of course brought along and which I had to check in separately as extra bulky luggage, pops up at a special baggage claim after a moment of concern. We then slide through immigration as on powder snow and step outside the airport to get a cab.
