If first impressions mean anything, I think I might never leave...

Amazing. Absolutely Amazing. That’s the only way I can describe the hours since my last post. Even though I’m exhausted, and it’s only 5 pm local time, this trip has already been well worth the pain of travelling in a large group. First of all, I watched the most amazing sunset out of the plane window, while eating a surprisingly good airline dinner, and listening to Chris Tomlin. That in itself constitutes a good day.Technically, the sunset never really went away – there was always a little sliver of light on the horizon, so it went from sunset to sunrise with no night in between. Then, because we basically went north out of Chicago, and then turned west when we hit the right latitude over Canada, I was able to see the most beautiful thing, and cross another line of off my bucket list. You see, I couldn’t sleep on the plane, no matter how hard I tried. So about half way through the flight, when everyone else was asleep, I looked out the window and saw a strange green glow in the almost completely dark sky. The Northern Lights were greeting me with the greatest show on earth. It was so stunning, so incredible, so unexpected, that I literally almost started crying. Just seeing the green and yellow weave and wind back and forth across the sky, interlacing to create a moving tapestry across the heavens, was mind blowing. And on top of it all, I made it through the whole trip without any migraines, any nausea, and a limited amount of dicomfort! That's a successful flight if I've ever had one....

And then we got off the plane, and my smile went away for a little bit. We all had massive kankles!!!! (omgsh no way that’s horrible sick disgusting….yeah yeah I know). Just kidding it really wasn’t that bad at all. Hours and hours of sitting down in low pressure airplane cabins means that blood and fluid pool in your legs (especially when you have POTS), so our ankles and knees were completely stiff and swollen. Good thing we still had an hour and a half car ride ahead of us! Luckily, between training and just being in a normal pressure environment brought our kankles down to normal size and I can rest easy tonight knowing that they won’t be there tomorrow.

            The one thing that I really can’t get over about England is that all the houses look like cottages straight out of a fairy tale. It’s crazy. I just want to take pictures of every single building I pass! Other than that, though, we’re pretty much out in the middle of nowhere about 6 miles outside of Nantwich – a quaint little village with shop lined cobblestone streets and more crazy drivers than New York City. Everything is so green, and actually, if it weren’t for the hedges that line the sides of the roads, the rolling fields filled with livestock and the relative lack of trees reminds me a lot of Nebraska…just prettier, better smelling, and with cottages instead of farm houses.

Driving in England is, well, an adventure unto itself. The Brits drive on the wrong side of the road, and I won’t lie, I’m pretty sure I almost wet myself when I looked out the right side of the car and saw vehicles barreling towards us…on what I thought was a one-way road nonetheless! Also, for about a 5 mile stretch in the middle of some country road, there were signs every quarter-mile saying “77 casualties in the last 3 years.” I felt really safe after that. It doesn’t help that we started out by getting a flat tire in our van, either. (Though, to be honest, it’s more like a car/van. We call it “a Can.” Gotta love these European cars).

            I know that soccer is soccer, but for some reason, playing soccer in England is just exponentially cooler than playing soccer anywhere else. It’s like how playing golf at Augusta makes you feel like Tiger Woods, makes you hear the roars at Amen Corner, makes you think you’re not some average Joe 29 handicap golfer. It’s something in the air. For crying out loud, flying into Manchester I counted 27 soccer fields, 3 tracks, tennis courts and possibly a single cricket field. No baseball. No football. No basketball. Just soccer. You can feel it when you step onto an English pitch for the first time – a depth and a majesty unknown in the U.S. are woven into the fabric of the very atmosphere around the field. You breathe in the soccer like oxygen. It’s ridiculous, but I felt like a better player just because I was playing in England.

            So right now I’m sitting in my own cottage with some of my teammates, completely exhausted from training, travelling, and switching through waaaaay too many time zones, but thinking that this trip is going to continue to be amazing! First game tomorrow!!! We had a guy on the flight to Manchester tell us we were going to get our @&%$# handed to us. I think it’s time to prove him wrong.

My name is Amy Swearer and POTS stole my life. I’m taking it back. (In England!).