Still Traveling…

Culture shock would have been too great for me to stay in Boise for more than 24 hours, so I decided to hit the road and visit Jill, David, and baby Will in Chico, then onto a lunch date with Kate in Berkeley, and now I’m stuck in San Jose. I took Murli’s car on this trip because I thought it would be cheaper because he gets better gas mileage. It turns out that this may not be the case because now his fan broke, as did the air conditioner, and I’m stuck in San Jose.

The trip from Amsterdam to the U.S. was a bit trying, partially because while walking around the Red Light district in Amsterdam I had the brilliant idea that it would be fun to try a has brownie. The effect was far too strong; yes, I should have heeded Echo’s call and split one, but I didn’t. I felt strange all day–like someone was pushing on my head and I’m sure I looked like I was a bit deranged in the airport. It didn’t help, then, that the security at the airport was tight that day. Every passenger on the plane to Minneapolis had to have a private interview with airport security. Echo and I went up together and were questioned longer than anyone else on the plane; for at least 30 minutes. I’m sure this had everything to do with the fact that we had Lebanese and Egyptian stamps in our passports. They kept asking if we talked to any Arab people or if any Arab people gave us any gifts that we were bringing back into the country. It was totally f*&^%$ up and insane. This was my reminder that I was going back to another universe, a universe in which I don’t want to live. That and the last night of the democratic national convetion was going on–this lovely reminder was brought to my attention as I was forced to listen to the sobering remarks made by ignorant Idahoans at the Minneapolis gate. So I was instantly off to California as soon as possible.

For these and other reasons, it’s been hard to come back and adjust to living in the U.S. Being back here makes me know even more how much I want to live elsewhere, at least for now. How will I ever survive these next 9 months in Idaho. I don’t know. Working to leave, perhaps, is the only way to get through it.



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