Full Circle

I've been home exactly one week. At once it feels like no time at all...and ages. When I go running, listening to the same Aerosmith music that I listened to in Cork, I can close my eyes and see my Irish running path unfolding before me, meter by meter. When I see a stick lying in the tall grass on the side of the road, I almost have to physically restrain myself from picking it up and...well, where would I move it to? Toss it into the road? Honey, you're in the 'burbs now, I think. And everybody knows everybody. So you probably shouldn't dance to your heart's delight along your new running route (except you do so anyways). You also probably shouldn't try to order a beer at that restaurant, because, girl, you've got over a year to go before that's even legal. Your fingers twitch towards your parents beer...it looks all the more appetizing because it's out of reach. You kind of want to try ordering just because you think it's a dumb law.

That said, I really haven't felt the reverse culture shock so much. Maybe on the plane in Chicago, and the nightmare that is making a connecting flight in the O'Hare airport. I compare Heathrow to Chicago here, and that perhaps is a little unfair because Heathrow's Terminal 5 was voted best terminal in the world, or so I remember. However, the contrast between Europe's extensive transportation system and the US' becomes a little laughable when one spends 2/3 of one's transfer time waiting in the US Citizens Customs line, thinking about how pissed off all of the Americans look while video screens overhead blast energetic, patriotic music with fireworks going off in the background and the words 'Chicago Welcomes You' blink at you in bold letters. Actually, that was one surprising thing: Americans tend to radiate a lot more pissed off vibes at the world than others, in both the way they speak and stand. Interpret that how you will. People seemed happier in Sweden. That said, I am very happy to be back home.

I spent my first Saturday in the States rushing around town and chattering until my dad's eyes glazed over and returned to the paper. IT hit Saturday night: that leveling bulldozer they call jet lag, combined with a cold. I woke up Sunday morning actually delusional with fever, freezing cold, at 2:30 in the morning, not tired. So I romped quietly around the house for the next 6 hours and decided that 'getting back on schedule' was not a top priority with a cold, so I went back to sleep. And woke up terrified that instead of a cold, and jet lag, that I was in fact dying of Tick-Borne Encephalitis EVEN THOUGH supposedly West Sweden does not have ticks that carry that disease. I had all of the symptoms. My life goals kept flashing before my eyes and each time I'd feel a new pang of disappointment: well, I haven't really done anything much yet and I've got things to do before my nervous system fails and I'm bed-ridden or dead. So I take some Advil because I figure this is ridiculous and fever induced, and I go back to sleep. I've done a lot of sleeping these past few days. And also managed to finish True Grit, which, if you haven't read it, is the ultimate American Classic and possibly takes the cake as my favorite book of all time. Mattie Ross don't take no shit from no one.