On my way

I was awake for most of the night, worrying about today among other things.  As it turns out, there is going to be a tour guide with us on the ferry after all.  This is a fact that would have been comforting to mention when I asked two days ago, but I'm sufficiently grateful to know it now.  Perhaps I should have assumed this would be the case, but life so far has taught me to take nothing for granted.  I feel like a craven coward, whining about whether or not my hand will be held through the process.  Without the requirement to find a specific person and a specific bus on the other end, without trusting others to port my luggage and needing to know how to coordinate with them to keep from being left behind, I wouldn't have been so nervous about a simple ferry crossing.   Other sources of stress almost certainly would have replaced that one, though.  After all, this is me we're talking about.  The tour is a useful tool for someone who's new to the continent, but, like everything, it comes with a cost.  Only time will show whether the benefits outweigh it.

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The trip to Dover has been smooth and scenic, and we've passed the Frontier with no apparent issue.  Am enjoying the majestic white cliffs and a Voltorb nest while we wait.