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| Muddy Course and the Euromast |
Although the experience of playing in the tournament, meeting new disc golfers, and seeing a brand new course (for me) was phenomenal, getting there was a little more interesting.
Early Saturday morning, I woke up to Mr. Traveler moving about. "I really don't feel good," he complained. "I think I'm getting sick." He told me that he was having trouble sleeping and that his throat hurt pretty bad. Although he had planned to travel with me to Rotterdam for the tournament, I knew at that point that he would probably be staying in bed instead. That meant I would be navigating the train system with my bike for the first time by myself. I took a deep breath, tried not to think about it too much, and went back to sleep. I knew I would need all the sleep I could get.
At 6:15, the alarm went off signaling that it was time for me to get out of bed. I gathered up my things, got ready, and scarfed down a single piece of toast with peanut butter. I walked outside with my disc golf bag on my back and my umbrella in hand. I tried to close the door, but it stuck about 2 inches from shutting. I tugged and tugged, but could not get it to shut. Finally, I pushed the door all the way open and pulled as hard as I could. As the door slammed shut, the vibrations echoed through the air, I'm sure waking all the neighbors. As I went to get on my bike, I realized that Mr. Traveler's bike was tied to it. I then had to go back inside, grab his keys, unlock his bike, put it to the side, unlock my bike, put his back next to the pole, lock his bike back in place, and put his keys back inside. Luckily on this try, the door shut with less trouble.
I was finally on my way to the train station and then the tournament, or so I thought. I stopped by the ATM nearest to our house to grab some cash for the day. I knew that there wasn't a lot of money left in our Dutch account. (Mr. Traveler gets paid into our account back in the States. We then pay our home bills out of that account and transfer some money to the account over here for rent, daily living expenses, and spending money. However, this process takes about a week. And, I'm sure this is more information than you ever wanted to know about our banking situation.) When the money wasn't there to pull out, I rode my bike back home, grabbed our debit card from our U.S. account, went back to the ATM and pulled out money, and was finally really on my way to the train station.
I pedaled quickly, hoping to catch the 7:17 train to Rotterdam. If I caught that train, I could be in Rotterdam by 7:55 and would have a whole hour to get to the park, leaving plenty of time for wrong turns and any other delays. I just missed the train, though, arriving on the platform at 7:20. The next train was supposed to leave at 7:35. If I caught that train, I would be in Rotterdam at 8:10, and would still have 50 minutes before sign ups ended. Pretty soon, though, an announcement came over the intercom indicating that my train was delayed 5 minutes. After those 5 minutes had passed, the train information was erased from the sign, indicating that the train was canceled. Not planning on having to take a later train, I had to check the schedule on the platform for the next train. In the meantime, a guy I had been talking to about the tournament through the disc golf message board (I'll call him M) sent me a text message and offered to meet Mr. Traveler and I in Rotterdam to show us the way to the park. I messaged back that I was running late, Mr. Traveler was sick, but if he was still around when I arrived I would definitely appreciate the help. I think I ended up getting on the 7:55 train. This meant I would be at the station closer to 8:30. M said he would be happy to wait and that he would rent a bike to ride with me. At this point, I was getting pretty nervous, but I was pretty confident that if I was riding with someone who knew where they were going, that I would still get there on time.
Then, I got a call from M. He told me that he had left his OV-fiets card at home. Without that, he would have to leave a large deposit in cash, so he didn't think he was going to be able to get a bike. He would wait for me at the station, point me in the right direction, and then take the Metro himself. At this point, I was really doubting my ability to navigate to the course and arrive on time. However, I was already on the train, so I knew I had to give it a try.
About 5 minutes before the train arrived in Rotterdam Centraal, I got another text message from M. He told me that he had secured a bike (I think he borrowed an OV-fiets card from a friend in the area) and he would meet me at the station. When I got to the station, I was still kind of anxious about getting to the tournament, but I was relieved to once again have someone navigating who knew the way. M and I had a nice ride, chatting about disc golf and getting to know each other, until about half way there I noticed that my bicycle was rattling a little more than normal on the brick path. I didn't want to look, and tried to convince myself that my bike always sounded that way, but I eventually gave in and glanced to the back tire. It was flat. Could one more thing go wrong? Maybe I wasn't meant to play this tournament after all. At this point, I was feeling a little sorry for myself, but I also felt guilty because I knew that if M hadn't waited for me, he would already be at the course and wouldn't have to worry about being late. He tried to get me to ride on the back of his bicycle, sitting sideways, while he also pulled mine along beside us. Dutch people do this all the time. However, after just a minute I knew that it was not going to work. I could not get my balance and he was pretty wobbly, too. He reorganized his stuff, I started walking, and he met me at the top of the hill. Almost to the park by now, we both walked our bikes the rest of the way there.
When we arrived, one of the first people that I talked to was a girl I had been emailing back and forth with about the tournament. She let me know that they were running late setting up the course, so we weren't late after all. It was about this time, that M realized that he didn't have his disc golf bag. He rode back in search of it, and once again I felt a little guilty, knowing that he probably wouldn't be in this situation if he hadn't offered to help me out. (Later he told me that he found the bag beside a post office box, with only one disc missing. Either it fell off of his bike or he set it down when we were rearranging from the flat tire incident.)
After all of the morning's events, it was still only a little after 9. I practiced putting for a little while and chatted with some of the other players. By the time the players meeting started, M had come back with his bag and the nerves were gone from my system. I was just excited to be playing a disc golf tournament.
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| Basket Behind Statue on One of Many Island Holes |
We played 3 rounds of 12 holes. After the first round, the cards were sorted by score and groups were reassigned. We played the second 2 rounds straight through without a break. The course was a little muddy, there was a lot of wind, and it rained on and off throughout the day, but it was great to play a new course with new people. Everyone I met and played with was extremely nice. They all were willing to change their conversations to English, so that I didn't feel excluded, and I really felt like they were excited to have someone knew playing a tournament. At the end of the three rounds, I was a bit hungry (I didn't realize there wasn't going to be a long break, so I didn't pack a lunch) and quite worn out. After not playing a tournament for a while, I think I forgot how physically draining it can be. I was extremely thankful and relieved, then, when one of the players offered to take me and my bike back to the station in his van.
Back at Rotterdam Centraal, I considered looking around for a bicycle shop to get my tire repaired. I decided, however, that I would rather head home, so that my bike (and I) would at least be in Utrecht, even if it still had a flat. I lugged my bicycle up the stairs and onto the platform, grabbed a much needed snack from the vending machine, and caught the first train headed back to Utrecht Centraal. On the way back, luckily I didn't encounter any more major problems. I had to hand the conductor an extremely soggy ticket when he walked by, which did amuse my fellow passengers. I'm sure they also wondered why my pants were covered in mud up to my knees, but no one was curious enough to ask.
Back in Utrecht, I asked one of the men working at the train station which direction I needed to go to get to the bicycle tunnel. He apparently didn't understand my question or wasn't aware that there was such a place, because he promptly placed me on the elevator, forcing me to walk through the mall with my bicycle. I thought about leaving my bike near a bike store on the way home (they all closed about 30 minutes before my arrival) but decided it would be safer from thieves and vandals in front of our home since the shops wouldn't reopen until Monday. When I got home with my bike, I was relieved to get inside and be able to take a nice warm shower. I was even more excited to finally get to eat dinner after I was clean again. (Mr. Traveler was feeling a little better after getting plenty of rest, and we had a nice dinner at a nearby restaurant.)
I plan on playing another tournament soon and look forward to seeing all of the people I met again (and hopefully remembering a few more of their names). I definitely hope the next trip isn't quite as filled with excitement, though.
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