19/01/04: I am home now. Boo.
Look at me trying to type on a French keyboard! The trip ended better than Friday started. Over the weekend I met some more fun Australians, and I explored more of the city. I took a couple walking tours, went to the currency museum, etc etc. It was SO COLD. Really really cold. I couldn't feel my face for all of Sunday.
Got up at 7am today and headed for the airport, which was insane of course. The nine hour flight in coach was just thrilling...mostly I slept. The four hour flight from Dallas felt super cramped and I was anxious and sleepy, and I'd already finished the one book I had with me. I got through about twenty pages of a French student version of the Three Musketeers. But I just kept drifting off to sleep.
Now I am at home. It was weird walking in the door, the place looked different. But as I looked around, nothing had actually changed. It was nice, but surreal, to see all my stuff here. Had a lovely, non-button shower, finally took all the stuff out of the suitcase I've been living in for a week. I don't know. It is always nice to return to one's own bed and such, and it will be nice to see family and friends again. But holy cow, it's only been a week! It honestly feels like my trip was a lot longer than a week, though. When you travel, you do so much stuff everyday that each day passes fairly quickly. But in order to remember a few days back, you have to go through the catalog of everything you've been doing, so it seems longer than just a few days. Does that make sense?