Back to Life. Back to Reality.

Dear All,
We are safely back in the cool arms of the United States of America. I can't believe it-that I'm back, that vacation is over, that I have to work tomorrow, that I have so much laundry to do but I won't be able to wear any of it for 6 months. It is all unbelievable. Especially because last night a very sweet Brasilero at the American Airlines ticket counter offered me a week in Salvador if I gave up my seat. I must have been ill because I said no. What is the matter with me? Was I craving kale that much? Surely maqueca do peixe would have cured that craving. I must be getting old. Or responsible. Gasp.

I will say that I am very excited to sleep in my own bed tonight. I love my bed. I wish I could pack it with me. But then again sleeping in foreign beds is half the fun, right?

I only cried once since I've returned. When I landed in Dallas. I can't say for sure why but my guess is that a lot of people cry when they arrive in Dallas. For many reasons.

I don't know if anyone is still reading this but I do plan on writing a few more entries of things that I wanted to post but didn't have the time or energy or Internet connection to do so. Plus my best observations were in the Paraguayan campo with no electricity! Henry Miller described this situation in Tropic of Cancer when he wrote: "I ought to be rich enough to have a secretary to whom I could dictate as I walk, because my best thoughts always come when I am away from the machine." I believe I would be rich enough to hire a secretary in Paraguay if I hadn't spent so much money there. Or rather, in transit there.

I can feel the pressure of these United States already squeezing. Being plugged in is a beautiful thing. That is when you are taking a break in the air conditioning to communicate with the rest of those plugged in and not when you are the one plugged in. The phone has been ringing. Texts start arriving. I am already pounding out series of letters on my laptop. And I've not been home for an entire day.

Noticeable differences though. Bathrooms with t.p. that doesn't crumble and actually looks clean coming off the roll. And you can miraculously throw it in the toilet! Muscle memory is amazing-I wasn't gone that long and yet I am "potty trained" and have been trying to throw my t.p. in the trash since my return. Traffic lights that are actually obeyed. Red lights are more than mere suggestions. When I took a walk in my neighborhood I didn't hear whispers of "There goes the North American."

A sad, defeated pile of bikinis sits on the floor surrounded by bits and pieces of the trip. Right next to the scarf I wore home from the airport. Things to reorganize, things to think about, things to look at, things to gift. Memories and sand and smells. All of it crashing with the "To Do" lists I left behind. Right next to the phone, computer and camera full of pictures waiting to be uploaded and shared.