Monday, April 12, 2004
Everyone is so FAT here. It took me about 30 seconds at the Philadelphia airport to see a grossly obese fat woman standing next to me at the sink in the ladies' restroom.
And the toilet paper is so SOFT here.
The first thing I always notice when flying back into Seattle after being away for a while is the smell that hits you after you walk outside the airport. The air just smells so sweet. Maybe it's because it's the spring. That smell just reminds me of home, of summer, of great expectations, and adventures.
Being back here is approximately equal parts normal and equal parts bizarre. Everything is strangely, strangely familiar and yet somehow completely surreal at the same time. I find myself slipping back into old routines so easily, but I continue to be surprised at actually understanding people when I hear them making idle conversation behind me in line at Value Village, or that I can so easily communicate the exact, complicated drink that I want to a bartender.
I knew I was home for sure though when I turned on the radio in my car only to hear John Cougar-Mellencamp blaring through the radio. What says Americana more than a little ditty about Jack and Diane? I was a little worried about jumping behind the wheel again, but I guess driving is a lot like riding a bike. I didn't have a problem at all. I am finding myself spending more or less the same amount of time in transit as I did in Madrid, only here, instead of riding the stinky old metro with a bunch of weirdos and people trying to get me to pay them for squeezing an accordion in my face, I can ride in my little car and listen to some sweet ass tunes on my cd player. Still don't like the traffic though. Nor the fact that my mom lives half an hour away from absolutely anything interesting that could possibly be happening.
When hanging out with my friends, I am trying to resist the urge to be That Girl who comes back from living abroad or someplace strange and does nothing but says, "In SPAIN, they bla bla bla..." It's hard though, it's hard. On Friday night I introduced my friends to the glory that is red wine and coke. I don't think they were especially impressed with it, but I don't think they disliked it either. Calimocho really only becomes an asset if you're drinking shitty wine, and the stuff we had was kind of okay. Anyway, that started the evening out right, but things quickly took a turn for the strange. We somehow ended up at the house party of one of my friend's friends, some chick I'd never met. Most of the people at the party were UW kids, which was strange for two major reasons. One, I was probably older than most of the people there. Two, when I say UW kids, what I really mean is, UW FRAT kids. Yes, my first night back in the US and where do I end up? A FRAT party. Or something strikingly resembling one.
Get this. I was standing around, talking to the friends I had come with (there wasn't anyone else there worth talking to, really). I was shooting the shit, talking Spanish with my Cuban friend Nick. "Que jetipolla eres!" I would say. "No me jodas!" He would reply. Meanwhile my friend Meresa is there with us too, speaking Thai to no one in particular. We were having a real International Moment. When up hops this sorority girl, sporting a very short minifalda and a baby-tee. She bops over to Meresa and says, "HI! Is this the ITALIAN party?" Apparently her language skills weren't fine tuned enough to recognize the subtle differences between Italian and Thai...
Anyway, we actually end up staying at the party for a really long time, until the only people that are left are us, and the loser frat boys who didn't manage to score a chick to take home to the sack. So eventually we leave, me and three of my girlfriends. "Aw, don't go!" they call after us, as they reach out their ever-groping octopus arms to try for one last squeeze. Rather pathetic, really. And rather funny too. I actually kind of enjoyed the party, in this really perverse sort of way.
Last night was interesting as well. It started out with this really, REALLY awkward guy trying to hit on me in this bar. I was sitting in a booth with three of my friends and he like, basically came over, told me to scoot over, and sat himself right down and tried to join in the conversation, the attempt at which desperately, desperately failed. And then he ACTUALLY came back later again when we were playing pool to give it another go. Weird. But then my friends and I went to another bar. We were sitting, chatting, hanging out. I got a mojito, but it was totally gross. I was in the middle of a conversation with my friend Meresa, when I sense someone looking at me from outside the window. I look up, and it's none other than Agniesza Zoltowski, a girl I went to high school with, who I basically hadn't seen since then, and who I had been rather good friends with in years past. She was also with Bogdan Albu, another guy I went to high school with. It was so WEIRD. Especially since the conversation I had been having with Meresa was all about how hard it is to stay in contact with people, and how there were all these people who I wish I had stayed in better contact with, but well, you know how it goes... It's hard sometimes.
But anyway, they came into the bar, and we talked for a while. Apparently Agnieszka just graduated from Whitman this year with a double major in Art History and French Lit, and has recently moved back in with her parents to try to find a job. Bogdan graduated from Duke last year with a major in Economics and is currently living as a ski bum in Jackson Hole Wyoming. Who'd a thought? It was good to talk to them though, and I got their emails. Who knows, maybe we'll meet up again some day. I did feel kind of cool saying, "Yea...so I just got back from SPAIN on Thursday...I'll be heading up to ALASKA for the summer on SUNday..." Does that make me a bad person? Naw, I think it's only natural.
It is very strange to circle the globe and then come back and see the same people doing the same things and acting the same way and going to the same places and hanging out with the same people. Like...I feel like I went off and did so much stuff and met so many new and interesting people and I come back and I'm like, What's WRONG with you guys? Get up and do something! Which is of course completely wrong. Not everyone wants to move around all the time. And besides, I'm sure everyone else was living completely full and interesting lives just the same as me. I'm sure they're not really the same people as when I left, just like I'm not the same.
But it is strange though. You can never quite go back. It's like the old Buddhist adage, that you can never step into the same stream twice. It won't be the same and neither will you. The water is passing by, the river's constantly changing, just like you are. Well, I think it's a Buddhist adage anyway. Whatever.
Why do I keep traveling anyway? What am I looking for? Is it so I can leave and then come back and have people tell me how much they miss me? Have them hug me and kiss me and act so excited? Maybe that's part of it. But not all.
Spain really does feel like some sort of dream. Like it could've easily never have happened. I find myself touching the walls sometimes to make sure they're actually there. Maybe NOW is when I'm dreaming and I'll wake back up soon on good old San Bernardo. Who knows. Maybe it's like the Buddhist monk with the dream about butterflies. What IS it with me and the Buddhists today. But I feel like just as soon as I start to get remotely comfortable here I'm going to be off again to Alaska, to a completely different stream with a completely different rythm. But I'm ready for it, I'm excited for it. Truth is, I feel like I'm getting too comfortable here, too fast...
So many khaki cargo pants...so may flip flops. So many Ford Explorer Eddie Bauer additions. Everyone is so white bread!
The thing that's nice about Western Washington is that on a clear day, when you look out, in every direction you can see mountains.
And the toilet paper is so SOFT here.
The first thing I always notice when flying back into Seattle after being away for a while is the smell that hits you after you walk outside the airport. The air just smells so sweet. Maybe it's because it's the spring. That smell just reminds me of home, of summer, of great expectations, and adventures.
Being back here is approximately equal parts normal and equal parts bizarre. Everything is strangely, strangely familiar and yet somehow completely surreal at the same time. I find myself slipping back into old routines so easily, but I continue to be surprised at actually understanding people when I hear them making idle conversation behind me in line at Value Village, or that I can so easily communicate the exact, complicated drink that I want to a bartender.
I knew I was home for sure though when I turned on the radio in my car only to hear John Cougar-Mellencamp blaring through the radio. What says Americana more than a little ditty about Jack and Diane? I was a little worried about jumping behind the wheel again, but I guess driving is a lot like riding a bike. I didn't have a problem at all. I am finding myself spending more or less the same amount of time in transit as I did in Madrid, only here, instead of riding the stinky old metro with a bunch of weirdos and people trying to get me to pay them for squeezing an accordion in my face, I can ride in my little car and listen to some sweet ass tunes on my cd player. Still don't like the traffic though. Nor the fact that my mom lives half an hour away from absolutely anything interesting that could possibly be happening.
When hanging out with my friends, I am trying to resist the urge to be That Girl who comes back from living abroad or someplace strange and does nothing but says, "In SPAIN, they bla bla bla..." It's hard though, it's hard. On Friday night I introduced my friends to the glory that is red wine and coke. I don't think they were especially impressed with it, but I don't think they disliked it either. Calimocho really only becomes an asset if you're drinking shitty wine, and the stuff we had was kind of okay. Anyway, that started the evening out right, but things quickly took a turn for the strange. We somehow ended up at the house party of one of my friend's friends, some chick I'd never met. Most of the people at the party were UW kids, which was strange for two major reasons. One, I was probably older than most of the people there. Two, when I say UW kids, what I really mean is, UW FRAT kids. Yes, my first night back in the US and where do I end up? A FRAT party. Or something strikingly resembling one.
Get this. I was standing around, talking to the friends I had come with (there wasn't anyone else there worth talking to, really). I was shooting the shit, talking Spanish with my Cuban friend Nick. "Que jetipolla eres!" I would say. "No me jodas!" He would reply. Meanwhile my friend Meresa is there with us too, speaking Thai to no one in particular. We were having a real International Moment. When up hops this sorority girl, sporting a very short minifalda and a baby-tee. She bops over to Meresa and says, "HI! Is this the ITALIAN party?" Apparently her language skills weren't fine tuned enough to recognize the subtle differences between Italian and Thai...
Anyway, we actually end up staying at the party for a really long time, until the only people that are left are us, and the loser frat boys who didn't manage to score a chick to take home to the sack. So eventually we leave, me and three of my girlfriends. "Aw, don't go!" they call after us, as they reach out their ever-groping octopus arms to try for one last squeeze. Rather pathetic, really. And rather funny too. I actually kind of enjoyed the party, in this really perverse sort of way.
Last night was interesting as well. It started out with this really, REALLY awkward guy trying to hit on me in this bar. I was sitting in a booth with three of my friends and he like, basically came over, told me to scoot over, and sat himself right down and tried to join in the conversation, the attempt at which desperately, desperately failed. And then he ACTUALLY came back later again when we were playing pool to give it another go. Weird. But then my friends and I went to another bar. We were sitting, chatting, hanging out. I got a mojito, but it was totally gross. I was in the middle of a conversation with my friend Meresa, when I sense someone looking at me from outside the window. I look up, and it's none other than Agniesza Zoltowski, a girl I went to high school with, who I basically hadn't seen since then, and who I had been rather good friends with in years past. She was also with Bogdan Albu, another guy I went to high school with. It was so WEIRD. Especially since the conversation I had been having with Meresa was all about how hard it is to stay in contact with people, and how there were all these people who I wish I had stayed in better contact with, but well, you know how it goes... It's hard sometimes.
But anyway, they came into the bar, and we talked for a while. Apparently Agnieszka just graduated from Whitman this year with a double major in Art History and French Lit, and has recently moved back in with her parents to try to find a job. Bogdan graduated from Duke last year with a major in Economics and is currently living as a ski bum in Jackson Hole Wyoming. Who'd a thought? It was good to talk to them though, and I got their emails. Who knows, maybe we'll meet up again some day. I did feel kind of cool saying, "Yea...so I just got back from SPAIN on Thursday...I'll be heading up to ALASKA for the summer on SUNday..." Does that make me a bad person? Naw, I think it's only natural.
It is very strange to circle the globe and then come back and see the same people doing the same things and acting the same way and going to the same places and hanging out with the same people. Like...I feel like I went off and did so much stuff and met so many new and interesting people and I come back and I'm like, What's WRONG with you guys? Get up and do something! Which is of course completely wrong. Not everyone wants to move around all the time. And besides, I'm sure everyone else was living completely full and interesting lives just the same as me. I'm sure they're not really the same people as when I left, just like I'm not the same.
But it is strange though. You can never quite go back. It's like the old Buddhist adage, that you can never step into the same stream twice. It won't be the same and neither will you. The water is passing by, the river's constantly changing, just like you are. Well, I think it's a Buddhist adage anyway. Whatever.
Why do I keep traveling anyway? What am I looking for? Is it so I can leave and then come back and have people tell me how much they miss me? Have them hug me and kiss me and act so excited? Maybe that's part of it. But not all.
Spain really does feel like some sort of dream. Like it could've easily never have happened. I find myself touching the walls sometimes to make sure they're actually there. Maybe NOW is when I'm dreaming and I'll wake back up soon on good old San Bernardo. Who knows. Maybe it's like the Buddhist monk with the dream about butterflies. What IS it with me and the Buddhists today. But I feel like just as soon as I start to get remotely comfortable here I'm going to be off again to Alaska, to a completely different stream with a completely different rythm. But I'm ready for it, I'm excited for it. Truth is, I feel like I'm getting too comfortable here, too fast...
So many khaki cargo pants...so may flip flops. So many Ford Explorer Eddie Bauer additions. Everyone is so white bread!
The thing that's nice about Western Washington is that on a clear day, when you look out, in every direction you can see mountains.
