Well, I never cease to be amazed at my powers of procrastination. I’ve been home for more than two full days, I leave for the airport in an hour, and I am still running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to finish my laundry, telling my bank not to cancel my credit cards when they see activity in China, notifying my adoring Facebook public that I won’t be on Facebook for the next three months (WeChat saves the day!), checking my suitcase’s weight, and the like. All I really want to do is curl up and watch Star Trek with my brother. He insists that “work comes before play.” With the limited time remaining, Star Trek is out of the question, but at least he lets me watch a YouTube video every time I check something off. Alas, soon YouTube will likewise be but a treasured memory.
The sensation of saying goodbye and starting a new adventure has never been a pleasant one. There’s a seemingly unrelenting sadness that wells up inside of me whenever I think about walking into the airport tonight and waving to my family for the last time. From experience, I know that this sensation is powerful and feels eternal, but in fact will only last for a few moments after I truly leave. The human brain has a marvelous way of forgetting the discomfort of parting.
It will take me a whole day to get to China. I’m flying “the other way”… by way of Paris and Helsinki on my way to Beijing. By the time I arrive it will be Friday over there. Off we go, then!