Today I ate fast food for lunch while driving, so I am officially 100% American again.
For those of you who have graciously added this to your “favorites”, I have decided to keep posting. Even though this was initially started as a travel blog, and most of the travel I am doing now is between my apartment and Dunkin’ Donuts, I like having a way to keep people up to date on my different gigs &c. While most of the things in my life stay the same, there is usually a lot of news on the musical front, and this is a good place to share that with everyone.
The flight back from Rome was as uneventful as a 9.5 hour flight can be. There was a baby in front of me who made a lot of noise, and a very quiet woman next to me whose only noise was the sighs of annoyance she made at the baby. Rather than making sighs of annoyance, I made faces at little amico mio, demonstrating once again my affinity for any human who, like myself, has not yet learned that you shouldn’t shout in public.
It was very odd for me, as I stepped off the plane in Newark, to stop speaking Italian. In Fiumicino and on the plane I continued to use Italian as a courtesy, even though all the Alitalia staff is fine speaking English. When I finally abandoned ciao and grazie while going through customs, it was a shock.
More of a shock was at the baggage claim in Newark, when the officer came by with the dog to sniff all of our bags. She walked through shouting “Please put all your bags on the floor!” (her shouts were not nearly as charming as the baby’s). Some non-English speakers didn’t do so, and because they were so intent on looking for their bags they didn’t notice that the rest of us were, either. So what does an American do when confronted with a non-English speaker? Go up to their ear and shout in their face until they understand. Charming.
Mom and the Lil’ Bro picked me up in Boston, and after dropping off my bags we went immediately to Salsa’s for Mexican food. Five weeks without guacamole is a long time.
I had been in the air about 4 hours when I started to do the requisite soul-searching about my trip. Needless to say I learned a lot musically, but what struck me the most was how much I had managed to pull off. I almost didn’t go on this trip at all because of my tendency to make myself into an anxious basket case. The months leading up to my departure were one angst ridden question after another. How will I pay for this? How can I be away for five weeks? Who will water my plants?
A few of my friends on this trip commented on how traveling in a foreign country can make you feel like you can pull off anything, and I certainly felt that way as I touched down at Logan on Monday evening. I was proud of myself for getting there and back, and for sacrificing routine in order to so something out of the ordinary. I was ready for a stress-free rest of the summer, which is why it was ironic to find a for-sale sign out in front of my apartment when I got home. But what would my life be without something to keep me awake and worrying at night?
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