People working in fair trade. From all around the world. Come together every other year. For an international meeting. Hundreds of people. From dozens of countries. My inbox has news. Every day. Of who got visas from their Belgian embassies. And who did not.
For me. The next week will be a blur of meetings. As I pass people, they stop. And say. Can we meet? I pull a small crumpled grid out my pocket. And look for a slot. And scribble them in. A full schedule. Of meetings before breakfast and at breakfast. During breaks. At lunch and dinner. Between sessions. After sessions. Until late into the night.
Add: Looks like for Friday, I've got a big block of time at JFK. I arrive in Belgium in Saturday morning and take the train to the coast.