Back home

2 boxes downs, 8 to go. I'm just now beginning to unpack the boxes of papers, binders, and books from 822. It's amazing the amount of memories stored it an unorganized pile of receipts; I've got a stack of receipts detailing trips to grocery stores (party beer runs), restaurants (dates over the years), and other purchases over 4 years of college, and I'll have to bring myself to throw them away tonight.

Traveling ended abruptly. We returned home on a Friday, and I spent the weekend at home as it was the first time all 5 of us had been together since Easter (my sister left for France before I came home from ND). By Monday, I felt like I had been home forever, not missing a beat (2 weeks home, and Gina just observed we changed one of our outside lamps. These are the changes I don't notice, so perhaps that why everything seems the same).

It's been strange; I don't feel like what I did this summer has really sunk in. My memories are a blur; doing 2 trips back to back, with no rest between because of the passport debacle, certainly didn't help. Sometimes, I'll be telling my friends here in Carmel what I did, and traveling around the world like I did is almost unfathomable for them, while for me it became the new normal, and I can feel the disconnect. My cousin, who had a similar summer, insists the magnitude of what I did will sink in over time. I certainly hope so. I do feel like I learned much more about the world on this trip, and I certainly have a nice cachet of stories to tell. The pictures are still just a pile of things to captions, but I was looking through my photos from my travels while at Oxford, and they brought up nothing but warm memories.

The adventures are certainly not over. I think I will continue to blog, sporadically. But let's look back at the memories:

Boldest thing I did: Go out on a limb, trust my friend Edo, and take a bus down to Prijepolje. Aside from a tense hour waiting at the bus stop, it was a complete success.

Biggest disaster: Losing the Passport. No questions. And, in theory, it's still in Bangkok, in the hands of the State Department. Arg!

Biggest near disaster: Dropping all of Anna's and Sam's valuables off a cliff in a dry-bag. Oops...

Greatest regret: No Tigers. Didn't pet one, didn't see one.

Most frustrating cultural disconnect: Toilets. I don't want to pay for it, and if I'm going to pay for it, don't make me fish through the trash can for paper products.

Most confusing cultural disconnect: No, Turkey, I'm not on my honeymoon. Especially not with my little sister.

Greatest surprise: Taxi ride to Sarajevo. And the beauty of the Balkan mountains in general. 3 straight hours of staring out the window, mouth open in awe, and knuckles white with fear.

Most surprising non-surprise: Couch surfing in Krakow. It was ... easy... and nothing happened. I was almost disappointing nothing strange/unexpected happened.

Greatest discovery: Motorcycles. And how much fun they are to drive.

Greatest food market: The one in Chiang Mai where we bought our ingredients for our cooking class. Home of the Greatest Snack Food Of All Time (GSFOAT), crack peanuts, and the best smoothies I've ever had.

Best decision: Biking around the Angkor complex. Full credit for this one goes to Anna.

The best trip improvisation was the taxi ride and the whole side-trip to Bosnia, but that decision was actually made against my will.

Best decision that sounds like a bad decision: Chiang Mai women's prison. Great full-body massages. [I don't think this made the blog, but Anna and I went 1 day, and Sam another morning]

Strangest food: peanuts. Fresh, raw, moist peanuts straight from the ground, in the hills of Thailand. Banana worms were a disappointment, and none of us had the courage the eat the much larger bugs.

Best Hostel: Hiker's Hostel, Plovdiv.

Worst Hostel: Oriental Hostel, Istanbul. Didn't have a problem, but I never trusted the men at the desk.

Best tour guide: Huan, or whatever his name was.

Best cook: In the hills of Thailand. Spoke no English, no Thai, drank hard alcohol constantly, and cooked on an open fire in a wooden hut. What's not to like?

Best form of transportation: Trains. 2 reasons, smooth ride and free toilets.

Worst form of transportation: Buses. Or maybe bus stations meant I was always grumpy whenever I rode buses.

Most consistently frightening form of transportation: Taxis.

Best nationality: Canadians. Gotta love 'em.

Most Postcard Perfect Location: Koh Nang Yuan. Yes, the beach between the 2 knolls looks exactly like the pictures.

Favorite moment: Sitting on the shores of Srah Srang, looking across the reservoir to the jungle as Cambodian boys splashed around at the base of the platform.