You've got to arrive early to Stansted airport should you wanted to get a luxurious 3-unrailed-seat and have a semi-quality night sleep. I observe passing travelers like predators desperately hunting for at least smth that comfort touristos would call a torture or a nightmare. I was a fortunate one to get a two seater with a chair in front to stretch my legs. I better didn't want to use toilet facilities as this would be immediately taken by tired and desperate air migrants.
The cheapest latte, and I am drifting off down the Silkeborg hojskole memory lane: canoeing in the sunlit lake, typical morning assembly with an-alien-looking noisy translation system for foreign bunch of Euroclassers, the classic lounging corners for drowsy students, Little Prince wall, sunset tapestry in the big hall, hooks for the mugs, morning assembly songs; the vintage hojskole-like prorgramme with live music parties; a night in an ex-photography-dark-room with secretly borrowed mattresses, and a lot of wicked memories from my Euroclass year.
It's been good to reflect the impact of the place which gave me a good kick to my life. Summing up the conscious meanings is the least thing I can do. Courage to start off new things, a newborn passion for outdoor activities, a number of crazy team building games, tolerance and lifelong friendships.
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