The last few hours: rain, restlessness, and one final view

It's 4:42 am. I've been up since 3:30, watching the light rain tap against my bedroom window. My backpack sits by the door, packed and ready. The apartment feels different somehow—emptier, even though most of my furniture is still here.

I checked the weather forecast after waking up. It'll be raining most of the day in Kristiansand, with temperatures hovering around 15°C. Not exactly the glorious farewell I'd imagined, but there's something fitting about leaving in the rain. It makes the goodbye less dramatic somehow.

My flight to Amsterdam leaves at 11:05 this morning. I've set five alarms starting at 6:00 am, though clearly I didn't need them. I plan to be at the airport by 8:35—giving me a comfortable buffer before they even open check-in. I've triple-checked my documents, my passport is in the designated pocket of my jacket, and I've already arranged the taxi.

It's strange to think that in just a few hours, I'll be leaving Kristiansand behind for almost 500 days. The longest I've ever been away before was three weeks for a conference in Singapore. This is different. This is 493 days of unknown.

I spent yesterday evening walking through each room of my apartment, mentally photographing the details I never pay attention to—the way the kitchen light casts shadows on the wall, the sound the third floorboard makes when you step on it, the view from my bedroom window of the oak tree that's been there longer than this building.

I stood at that window for almost twenty minutes last night, watching the branches sway in the wind. I've looked at that tree thousands of times, but yesterday felt like the first time I really saw it.

I should try to sleep a bit more, but I know I won't. The restlessness that prompted me to change my flight from the 6th to today won't let me. So instead, I'll make one last cup of coffee in my kitchen, sit by the window, and watch Kristiansand wake up.

The next time I write, I'll be in Amsterdam. The first step of 500 days. I've booked a hotel for three nights—Hotel Clemens, a small place near the center. Beyond that, I have no plans. Just 493 days of possibility ahead.

I think that's what I wanted all along.

6:15 am update: Just had my final shower in my own bathroom. Checked my backpack again. Everything is ready. The taxi arrives in 90 minutes. I keep looking at my watch. Time feels strange today—both racing and crawling.

I've decided to leave my watch behind. It's sitting on my bedside table now. For 500 days, I want to experience time differently. Not as minutes ticking by, but as moments unfolding. We'll see how long that philosophical stance lasts when I have a train to catch.

The rain has picked up. I can hear it drumming on the roof now.

Next stop: Amsterdam.