Uhm, okay, so nothing is working right now.

My usual interest in internet and blogging, my mind, my heart, my senses, my emotions, my home.

Because living this far away from my real home? Especially on this first day when my parents and my brother went all the way back home for real this time?

It fucking sucks.

I have to believe that I will get over this, that I will get used to the new life that includes me living on my own, that one day I will wake up and see that all is good in the my world. Because that is all I’m clinging to right now and it’s what keeps me from jumping on the next train back home, crying in my mother’s arms and giving up on studying at Maastricht University; taking the easy way out: continue living in my parents’ house and take whichever classes the local university has to offer.

That’s what my heart tells me to do right now, it tells me to turn around and quit acting so mature and grown-up when I’m really a Blanky-clutching-kinda-gal that very much needs the comfort of home. But what is the right thing to do? Was it wrong to take this big a step? Am I not strong enough?

I don’t feel strong enough and I worry. I worry about everything; whether I should change the name tag next to the doorbell downstairs and why I can’t just cry because I know crying would make me feel better. I worry that I will never find friends here and I worry that university doesn’t start until September 1 and I worry that I will never make it until then.

Because, really, my heart cries and my mind screams and it’s only my first official day here - so does that mean it’ll get better or does that mean I didn’t even last one day?

I want to cry, I really, really do. I can feel it behind my eyes and in my throat and somewhere in my nose and I think I need to cry to get it all out because this time blogging doesn’t do the trick but I don’t. I can’t. I never cry, except during the movies. Somehow, I’m just not genetically set up for it.

I’m also tired because it is exceptionally hot outside and my family and I have been wandering through both Maastricht and Aachen these past few days and I didn’t get much sleep, but most of all: I am constantly worrying that I forgot to do something any single-household-person is expected to have a handle on. I am checking my bag twice before leaving to make sure I have everything with me, I am putting my toothbrush back into the exact same place everytime, I am making up plans in my head of random stuff to do so that I won’t have too much time on my hand to think of how miserable I feel.

All of this, and the way I feel as though my insides had been kicked and tormented, as though all of me and all I ever knew has been turned inside out - it makes me tired. Very, very tired. And desperate for a way to change things back to when life used to be carefree and easy with a snap.

Can you say, O - M - G? It feels completely weird.

The Harbor Vacation, Part Three and accounts on our family vacation in Maastricht as well as my moving into my new place in Aachen are coming soon.

Right now, though: I have never lived in a building with multiple apartments and I feel as though I should try to keep as quiet as possible so to not disturb the others or anything.

My stomach also feels really weird and upset. I guess I’m just excited and overwhelmed by the things up ahead. I’m just throwing this out there: taking out the garbage, doing the dishes and doing laundry, shopping for groceries, cleaning the toilet.

Now, I know any self-respecting person should learn to do these things one day (preferably before their 18th birthday but who’s keeping count, right?) and I moved out of my parents’ house, among other things, to do just that: care for myself and be responsible. But right now it feels impossibe to handle all the things that come with running one’s own household and, most of all, taking full responsibility for every thing going on in one’s life.

Let’s just say it: of course it’s scary.

It smells different and the light switches, where are they? Who ever thought of putting it on that side of the door? Everytime I turn around to face the small hallway, I am surprised to see that I have my own kitchen now and my own bathroom. Where did they come from? And what am I ever going to need them for? I can’t cook on a used stove or wash my hair in a shower others have used (and, may I add, not cleaned very thoroughly)?

Or can I?

I love that my new desk here is so much bigger and that I am actually blogging from and not just about my new apartment now, after so many weeks of planning. I love that I have my own doorbell, my own mailbox and my own phone number.

But it’s still scary and tonight, on my first night here, I honestly can’t say whether it feels good scary or bad scary.

Like I said in the first part, the huge freighters and container ships are just that; very, very large. Sitting in the little sightseeing boat while literally passing underneath those ships’ bows is an experience in itself.

I particularly like this beauty’s name: Northern Delight. I can just see her crashing her way through a storm in the cold waters of the Northern seas. She just got a make-over, too. Looks good, the new paint job.

Or this one. She, in fact, needs a new coat of that fiery red but she looks impressive whatsoever.

She’s impossibly huge. Look at the little boat next to her, its just tagging along and she doesn’t even seem to notice! She’s gigantic and, according to the guide, she can hold like, 8,000 cars.

For perspective, can you make out the little pins before the huge black opening on the light blue ramp leading to the blue freighter on the right? Um, those are people. Grown man. They’re probably smaller than the white lettering. Courage, it reads. I, for one, would not have the nerve to travel weeks on a ship like these.

Here’s another freighter. She carries some sort of gas or other explosive chemicals. Er, hence the GasChem tag. Apparently, her belly is empty right now because all that hiddeous, rusty, moldy paint? That part is usually underwater. Right now, she’s not as heavy and thus floats farther up.

Aren’t you glad I’m explaining this to you? It’s not like they teach it in school.

After doing the sightseeing tour my parents, my brother and I are a.) hungry and b.) sun-burned. The weather has done a complete turn; the sky is blue and temperatures rise to the mid-thirties (low hundreds). We are, of course, not dressed accordingly and sweat like crazy.

We decide to check out the Atlantic Hotel, the one that looks similar to the Burj Al Arab, only much less glamorous in direct comparison. They have a back entrance for tourists just like us that want to take the elevator to the 20th floor to check out the view.

Since we don’t have to take the stairs and only have to stand and take in the view, we agree that it’s okay to pay 3 euros ($5) for each of us to get in. And what we see, sure is worth the money.

Twenty stories - 77 meters (252 ft.) - is definitely pretty high, by the way. They have two different platforms on top of the hotel and I can’t bring myself to climb the higher one.

After this we are almost starving and we finally end up going back to the restaurant at the German Emigration Center for dinner. The food is only okay but the drinks are cold, and sitting down and doing nothing, right there at the harbor wih the seagulls flying above our heads, feels nice.

Later on, my brother and I go back to the hotel and he can finally flap onto the couch and occupy the television. Meanwhile, my parents check out the restaurant that belongs to the hotel and end up having drinks there. As I’m lounging in the awesome leather chair in our suite, I let my feet glide across the pretty wooden floor and suddenly, I spot an Asian guy sitting down right underneath one of our windows at a table of the hotel’s restaurant. In his lap, a ferret happily winds and twists and, lastly, curls up into a ball, its head resting on the guy’s knee.

Er, I’m sorry if that last sentence sounded kinda dirty. But maybe that’s just me.

Turns out, this shouldn’t be the last same we’d see Ferret Guy but for now, my brother and I enjoy staying in the luxury suite. I love how the yachts in the harbor look all expensive and shiny as the sun sets and I love how my brother respects that I, please, do not want the TV volume up that high and that the curtains are so heavy and dark and cozy.

We have all the small lamps turned on which creates a mild, nighttime-y mood. Like in the movies, like I wish my home will look like someday. The white bedding looks clean and hip and comfortable and I love how I wash my sun-burned face and walk to my bed - bare-fotted across this floor that I want to take home with me so much, how the kitches lies in the dark to my right, just as though it had a busy day behind it as well.

As I fall into bed that night, I’m very, very happy.

To be continued…