Here I am sitting in my apartment in Lima, the window open, short-sleeve shirt on, finishing up some piles of Socios work. Since when I come back to Peru in less than 2 weeks I won't be with Socios or in Lima, I have a fair amount of organizing of stuff to get done before I head out late tomorrow night to Boston. I leave tomorrow night and by lunch time on Wednesday will be in Belmont. I've been making some plans for seeing people while I'm home, and it's really weirding me out. I feel more weird about it this time than previous trips that I've taken home. So quickly I am going to go from this world where I am living very intensely, to my world in Boston. Then just as quickly, I'll come back here and jump over the Andes to a little town called Urubamba. I've been pretty tense the last couple weeks with lots of big projects and events at work. (Not to mention the grad school applications that are just waiting to be finished. Or started.) And I'm still feeling tense, although at the same time super excited, about my the trip. I am already thinking of all the wonderful foods and beverages I'm going to consume while home.
Anyway, point is, planes freak me out. Not the fact that you're in the air. Just the fact that you get somewhere so quickly.
1 comment:
I know what you mean--I feel the same way about planes--there's no time to adjust to the new place, or to leaving the old place--but in this case, I'm glad the plane is bringing you HERE so quickly! Sorry for the abrupt transition, but your arrival will be welcomed!
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