In December, my Wander Lost-ing took a brief hiatus, and I went home to Boston, Massachusetts, for about four weeks. ...It was a mess. A beautiful mess. But still a mess.
Here's how it started: On December 11th, which was a Sunday to the best of my recollection, my parents called me.
"Call me back, like, later," I responded. As far as I know I think I then probably rolled my eyes, popped my bubble gum, and went back to staring at a blank wall.
So they did. They called me at 10 P.M.
"Where are you?" my dad asked politely. "Warsaw?"
"Warsaw? I'm in Prague. Why on earth would I be in Warsaw?"
"Uhh, because your flight's in two days?" said my Dad. He probably also thought whatever the Polish equivalent of "Ah-doy!" would be to himself.
"Ruh-roh," I thought.
So here's what I did: I worked all day Monday, then took a nine-hour train ride all day Tuesday. My flight left the following day, Wednesday.
Here's what happened: I thought I left about a week later, December 19. I didn't realize my trip was December 14 - January 19. I had been telling everyone the opposite. Ooph.
Somehow, though, in ways I will never understand, it all worked out. My employers were kind, and I could take care of things fairly quickly. Soon enough, I was back to ordering Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee in 20-degree weather. It was like I'd never left.
Firstly, the windows in my apartment had just been replaced a few days prior. Here's roughly what our apartment looked like shortly before I left it.
Anyways, back in Americaland, one of the first things I saw was this, a funeral for a Worcester fireman who died in the line of duty.
One of the second things I did was this, ate sushi with my family.
I hung out with some family members.
I took pictures of my mom and her sisters cooking in the kitchen.
I watched my friends in Mean Creek perform at The Paradise, where I stood about five feet from Theo Epstein. I guess it isn't a trip to Boston without Theo Epstein. [ed. note: I don't think anyone's told her yet...]
About two days after I got home, I went to a party at my friends' Wesley funhaus. The photo below pretty much sums it up:
Oh yeah, and then there was also New Year's Eve.
All in all, a lot of things happened and events occurred, and every single one of them warrants a three-page post of its own. Another time.
Here's how my trip home ended: After packing all day the three or so days before my epic return-flight-back-to-Warsaw-followed-by-nine-hour-train-ride-with-two-50-lb.-suitcases andthen a-metro-and-tram-ride-home, my mom advised me, smart lady she is, to check my flight online. I kid you not, the time was again 10 P.M. The thing is, my family and I were all under the impression that my flight was at 8 P.M. the next night. Little did we know (until I spontaneously checked) that my flight was actually at 4:30 P.M. Ruh-roh again.
So the few days before my several hour long flight back to Europe, I basically didn't sleep. (Perhaps you recall, from my very first post, how little actual planning went into my relocation to Europe. That meant quite a bit of work once I got back to America, or, as I'd started referring to it, The Place Where I'll Be Able To Shower Standing Up Again.) The night before I left, though, I slept three hours. They were the best three hours of my life. The best, that is, until I passed out drooling on the plane facing the lady next to me and thereby almost missing dinner, which would have been a shame because either I was tired enough to hallucinate, or that airplane food was effing delicious.
All images courtesy of the author.