On the fringes of the concrete jungle

Well, I never really had much of a 'final' post, since the second half of my trip was only half-heartedly documented, and then I arrived in New York exhausted and anxious about job training.

After a week of too-much-shopping but still-enough-rest, however, I think I now have the energy to attempt some final thoughts on the trip (and maybe turn this into a domestic adventures abroad to document some New York stories).

I know a couple of people mentioned that I came across as very tired in my blog, but despite that, it was still an amazing trip. A lot of people do these Europe trips post-college, and I think they've acquired a sort of rite-of-passage-int0-the-real-world reputation. For me, it wasn't a life-changing trip, and I don't think I fell in love with any country in particular. In fact, during all of my travels, I realized how much I actually like my life at home. It was wonderful seeing different things (breathtaking, relaxing, and inspiring, even), but I also discovered how much I really do like America, at least the Berkeley version.

The sentiment reminded me of AP US History during my junior year in high school. Dell'Orto (my truly amazing teacher) spoke to us about the history of our nation, I believe after we watched a clip from Amistad. We are allowed - encouraged - to question our country, its leaders, and the principles that this nation supposedly stands for. We have the freedom to protest, demonstrate, run for office, etc. However, in doing this, it's important to remember that this does not mean we are not patriotic, and it does not mean we should not love our country, because it is because we are living in this country that we have the freedom to do that, the freedom to have our voices heard.

I know that because the government has been so shady lately, it's easy to want to just move away to Europe and settle into the romantic life of an ex-pat - but being in Europe, oddly enough, made me think otherwise... Maybe this was just because I only had three shirts to wear though. Maybe it was because I read Al Gore's autobiography two-and-a-half times. In any case, it is what it is.

The return home, however, was quite sad, in large part because Lisa and I had to say goodbye for an indefinite period of time and it marked the end of an era for our friendship. We had initially thought the goodbye would be tearful, but during the middle of the trip, we had decided that it probably wouldn't be a big deal, just a natural ending. By the time the end rolled around, however, we had both secretly realized we were going to be quite sad, and were also secretly wondering what the other person was thinking. We got to the airport ridiculously early (since I didn't want to repeat my airport troubles from the last time I was in London), and Lisa waited with me at my gate since her flight left an hour later. When it was my turn to board, I kept facing forward since I was already crying even without seeing her crying, but the whole time we were laughing, too, because we felt a little silly. The people near us must have thought us crazy, or maybe they thought it was touching.

In any case, she saw me off to my flight, and I kept turning around and waving, and then I had to go through the jetway and onto the plane, and with that, the trip felt over.

I am so glad we did this - not so much for the places, but for our friendship, and the random memories.