Starting our arrival into Amsterdam Schiphol Airport, we begin our descent somewhere in Germany under the watchful eye of Air Traffic Control.
While we’re in a slow glide towards Amsterdam, The Netherlands becomes larger and larger in my windows.
Passing 25.000ft, I can still see a quarter of the country in a glance.
The province of Overijssel on the right and Flevoland on the left, separated by the Veluwe lakes.
The very playground where I learned to navigate by map, compass and plots and wind-estimates when I was at the very beginning of my flying career.
How far I’ve come since then, from the exciting moment of finding my way all alone in a Cessna, to contemplating such thoughts from the seat of a Boeing 747, overflying the same lakes and towns.

Flying into Amsterdam Schiphol airport is always a joy; coming home in a way that is difficult to explain but a pure joy for a Dutch pilot roaming the planet.