Over and Out

The months and days are wayfarers of a hundred generations, and the years that come and go are also travelers. [1] Those who float all their lives on a boat or reach their old age leading a horse by the bit make travel out of each day and inhabit travel. Many in the past also died while traveling. [2] In which year it was I do not recall, but I, too, began to be lured by the wind like a fragmentary cloud and have since been unable to resist wanderlust, roaming out to the seashores. Last fall, I swept aside old cobwebs in my dilapidated hut in Fukagawa, [3] and soon the year came to a close; as spring began and haze rose in the sky, I longed to walk beyond Shirakawa Barrier [4] and, possessed and deranged by the distracting deity [5] and enticed by the guardian deity of the road, I was unable to concentrate on anything. In the end I mended the rips in my pants, replaced hat strings, and, the moment I gave a moxa treatment to my kneecaps, I thought of the moon over Matsushima. [6] I gave my living quarters to someone and moved into Sampu's villa.

Matsuo Basho in Oku no Hosomichi or Basho's Narrow Road to the Interior
1689

One of my favorite passages from one of my favorite books. I wasn't merely entrenching myself abroad, but traveling, which may lie at the core of the adventure. I think it sums up my experiences well. And even challenges thereafter (I had the pleasure of a lengthy Q&A with two Homeland Security officers this afternoon, seriously. They seemed to have serious issues with my having been in Egypt and my reasoning for study there...)

Yet alas the adventures of Egypt have come to an end as a Boeing 767 touched down at Logan this afternoon. I would like to put forth a sincere thank you to everyone who has visited and interacted with my blog over the course of the summer. I would like to give infinite thanks to my dad and mum for allowing their daughter to spend a summer in the Middle East, something most parents would deem, um...very unwise. And a profound and warming thank you to all of the friends, family, acquaintances and teachers who provided encouragement and assistance in making this possible. Thank you not merely in the months building to my departure, but during the course of the last three years which undoubtedly had an impact on this journey which was not in a vacuum, but symbolic of rising in uncertain times. You know who you are. You know what you’ve done. And I thank you.

Milan to Boston, quite a long flight. Nine hours is fine. But the momentum of homeward significantly grinds and extends the process. I had the pleasure of sharing a row with two other people who had not been back home in the States for weeks or months, and although cynical at times, thankful for the home to which they were returning. Our perception varied tremendously from those around us. And we binded to shield ourselves from that glare.

And I have yet not to see a cabin erupt into applause as the plane touches down on American soil in the post 9/11 world. Today was no different. But I'd like to think for a moment, the cheering, the clapping, were different today. All different for me.

Milan Malpensa around 9am local time. Valentino, not fake leather camels. In addition to the highest of the high end, even a Ferrari racing store selling red hats for a 120 euro. They're really just red hats, trust me. I never understood duty free in the first place. Decent savings possible, but really, do you NEED a Toblerone bar the size of a cinder block? And might there be something wrong with a picture which involves you purchasing cigarettes tax-free in bulk? And how much perfume does a single person need before they start smelling like a fresh Vanity Fair (in a bad way)? And surely, is all the cognac and whiskey out of necessity, or an urgent sense of responsibility to reap the savings?

Milan or Seoul? Seoul or Milan? If I hung around this gate long enough, think I could sneak in? Escape to Korea?

Duty free hall at Cairo International Airport around 2am. Look how exciting! Considering the nation's reliance on tourism, it was like a parking garage with suspicious men selling gold chains and leather camel dolls. Swarming with Saudis when I arrived, as flights for Jeddah and Riyadh neared. Serious money. Silver clips bearing massive wads of cash. Oil money. Real time.

Near midnight...Cairo's last whirl