When I arrived at the Atlanta airport, I’d learned there was a bombing in Brussels. That explained the heightened security the night before, when we left Buenos Aires. I texted my people–I was safe. Nothing doing in ATL. I tweeted, too, just for safe measure.
I was groggy with my little. yellow. pills. that I had obtained from the pharmacy in Buenos Aires, and trying to swig down some black tea before it got cold and lost the efficacy that was curing my chest and throat pain.
The Savannah flight was mercifully shorter than even I predicted, and I was at the airport, with my good buddy, gray luggage. My friend Liz was there to pick me up, and I found speaking to be more and more difficult as we drove into town.
Home felt good. Even after such an amazing trip, it was good to be home. I was excited about my work, after so many talks with my fellow travelers and Mary Joy, after the feedback I received via email from an editor, I wanted to rip back into my work.
But first I needed a shower. All the pseudoephedrine made me sweat on the long night flight. That was gross. Sorry for sharing.
I add this day to the blog, because this was the real day of separation. Mary Joy lives across the country, and we are both busy, so we email, but we don’t talk much.
I kept thinking over my highlight reel as I unpacked and did laundry, made a for-real, honest-to-goodness cup of tea (hallelujah). I was ready for long days alone, writing. I was ready for simple foods, actual salads, and no wine for a few weeks.
But my trip? What has stuck with me the most was Easter Island. Maybe because it was first, and I wasn’t yet feeling the information fatigue. Maybe because the moai are so impressive.
But, if pressed, the place I would revisit was Patagonia. I do want to return and spend an easy week in the comfort of Bariloche, hiking, climbing, kayaking. Then head down to Torres del Paine, hike the famous “W” circuit, or if we had time, hike the circumference of the massif, staying at the refugios along the way.
I could see taking Andy down there, so much so that I bought maps, in addition to the ones given to me by Ezequial and Kristina.
People ask, “How was your trip?”
To which the proper response is: “It was terrific. Glad to be back, though.”
And that’s true, but not true. Instead, I often just opened and closed my mouth, at a complete loss as to what to say.
It was terrific, but what a flimsy word to describe these three weeks of magic.
Maybe I should say, “I don’t have the words to do it justice.”
But I tried.