ritorno

So I found myself rushing to see as many people as possible, catch Royals games with my friends, and tie up loose ends before making my return to Europe. And before I knew it, I was on a flight to New York City.

Did you know that NYC has multiple airports? I did. And yet I still managed to book a flight into La Guardia while simultaneously booking a flight out of JFK only three hours later. Yep. I noticed this about three days before flying out, and then found myself in the middle of an Expedia and Delta hotline frenzy.

To switch my ticket to an earlier flight, the Expedia operator told me, I would have to pay $150, plus the difference in ticket prices. This worked out to around $300. I told him I'd call him back but never did.

The Delta operator was a little more helpful. I could call in early to check for availability on the flight before mine, but even that service would cost me $50. Not really wanting to wake up that earlier, I decided to chance it.

New York City was a balmy 92 degrees when I deplaned on the tarmac and boarded a bus to take me to the terminal. I race-walked inside, through the maze of gates and restaurants, past a lonely-looking guy in a Dustin Pedroia jersey (almost yelled out 'Laser show!' but didn't want to draw attention to either of us), to the baggage carousels.

And here's one of those stories of a time in my life when, for once, everything went exactly as it should have. I grabbed my bag right away, ran out to the taxi stand where there was NO line, hopped in a cab and got my very first glimpse of the city (besides the flight in, which had offered spectacular views of the Statue of Liberty and lots of other stuff I didn't really recognize). I saw some sweet houses along the expressway and we passed the Mets' stadium, which I thought was pretty cool. I'd been warned that traffic might be an issue, but it wasn't at all, and I was at international departures terminal of JFK within 30 minutes. So relieved was I to have arrived with so much time to spare that I tipped the cabbie generously and shook his hand.

Security was a bit of a hassle, and spilling sauce from my Chinese food on my top was a bit of a hassle, but overall, things went really well in New York.

The flight to Dusseldorf was uneventful, and I actually had the best airplane food of my life during those eight hours. I've forgotten it by now except for a really delightful piece of pie, but it was top-notch, overall. Unlike the in-flight films.

Landed in Dusseldorf and tried my best to amuse myself for 13 hours. I took a walk outside, sampled some chocolate, flipped through some magazines, rode the connecting train from one end of the complex to the other for 30 minutes, and slept on a bench near my gate. Finally I was on a plane bound for Milan's Malpensa airport.

The flight was uneventful, besides the complimentary chocolate given out by AirBerlin at the end of the flight. (It might not have been complimentary but I just grabbed it like it was.) I found my bags, declined to declare anything, and took a train into Milan, where I hailed a taxi and finally arrived at my hostel, and went to sleep after something like 60 hours awake with no more than two hours of sleep at a time. And I slept like a baby.

there's no place like. . .

After Cusco, I took a bus up to Lima (word to the wise: Cruz del Sur is the way to go) and then flew home the next morning.

I arrived bearing gifts, such as headbands and t-shirts and alpaca wool socks and random jewelry and lots of ticket stubs that I probably should have thrown away a long time before. I met our family's exchange student, Theresa from Germany, and spent lots of time with my family.

It was a little weird being called by my proper name, instead of Dorothy, or Betty, or Kansas, or any of the other nicknames I picked up during my travels.

I looked at real jobs for a bit, but the idea scared me a little. Found my dream job, and it involved driving around a golf course all day in a cart full of beer. The tips were unbelievable.

For a while, I waffled on whether or not to go back to Europe. Was the cost worth it? Was I just trying to keep from growing up? Would my friends here remember who I was when I returned?

But I can't keep traveling forever, and I might as well do as much of it as possible while I'm young. So I bought my tickets back to Europe, and gave my boss one week's notice. I said goodbye to Kansas, which I genuinely believe is the greatest place in the world, and prepared to return to Europe.

farewell to cusco

"We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face. . . we must do that which we think we cannot."

-Eleanor Roosevelt

There were a few surprises in store for me when I returned to Cusco. I had new coworkers to replace Chris and Uly, which meant new roommates in the staff dorm. Some of them were cool, and some of them were not so cool. Assaf was one of the good ones. My first day back, I went with him and another Israeli boy to try and see the ancient site of Sacsayhuaman and the modern sculpture called the Cristo Blanco.

We trekked up cobbled streets, to winding paved roads, until we got a little sick of walking and hailed a taxi driver. When we arrived at the entrance to Sacsayhuaman, we found out it cost far more than we'd budgeted for, and so we decided to cut our losses and just head up to the White Christ.

Of course, in typical Cusco fashion, the skies darkened almost immediately, and it began to sprinkle just as we were getting out of our taxing at the top of the hill. We shelled out a few soles for cheap ponchos, got in a few pics, and waited twenty minutes for a bus to stop for us. Then we took that bus back to town, took another bus to our side of town, and ducked into an Israeli restaurant for a hearty lunch of creamy soups, pastas in rich sauces, pita bread in hummus and green dip, falafel, french fries, and refreshing mint lemonade.

When we returned to the hostel, I began to limber up for my final drinking games night. I had never been defeated at the cereal box game, and my reputation as some kind of legwarmer-wearing, limboing goddess was growing at the hostel. Because my life is basically a movie, my last time participating in the cereal box game was of course the most dramatic, and I found myself facing the stiffest competition yet. (I blame this on Mitch and his habits of a) tearing off nearly two inches of the box at a time, giving participants fewer opportunities to fall over, and b) allowing cute drunk girls three or four attempts to pick the cereal box up, hoping that they'll be grateful for it later when he invites them back to his room.)

Finally it was just me, some midget chick, and a tall guy who was basically a freak of nature. Mitch brought out the broom to serve as a limbo pole. We ducked under it time after time, until the girl was out, and I saw that my final opponent was actually a mutant who possessed the ability to walk on the insides of his legs. I think I put up a pretty tough fight, if I do say so myself, but I am sorry to say that I did not take home a seventh trophy shirt that fateful night.

Thursday was my final night at Loki, and it was also karaoke night. As usual, Mitch and I started off the night with 'Airplanes,' Jamie rocked a little U2, and there was some Tom Jones, Britney Spears, Queen, and all the other karaoke night classics. I was feeling such a rush because it was my last night, and my coworkers let me know that they would miss me: Assaf would not stop hugging me, Mitch threw in a few last minute compliments, and at one point I happened to glance to my right and found Jamie staring at me, looking forlorn and holding up a napkin upon which he'd written 'Don't go!' with a sad face.

Jeremie, of course, couldn't have cared less that I was about to leave, but took advantage of the occasion to get drunk anyways. At one point I found myself having to show him how to properly mix Angel Piss.

But the most magical moment of the evening had to have been when I ran out to use the bathroom (keep reading please). As I was washing my hands, I heard the beginning of 'Don't Stop Believing,' and rushed back into the bar. I came through the door and found Jamie looking right at me, singing, "Just a small-town girl. . ." It was perfect.

We went out to Africa for one last night, and Jeremie did not disappoint, wearing only his tired jeans and a pair of suspenders. Friday was devoted to picking up some last-minute gifts at the market and packing up a storm. Then I said my goodbyes to my friends and the place where I'd spent six of the best weeks of my life.

It was pure chance that brought me to Loki. I was at a low point in my life when I arrived, feeling alone and afraid and forgotten. But the six weeks I spent there changed me in so many ways.

I mean, who would ever have thought that the quiet girl in high school and college would become a karaoke fiend? Who could have guessed that I'd gain the confidence to go out to the clubs every night with no makeup on? How does a shy kid end up as a bartender? Where did I gain the audacity necessary to trek to Machu Picchu on my own? Somehow I overcame my apprehension, challenged my own perception of myself, and came out on top. I met the greatest people, saw the coolest things, and enjoyed once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Loki--and Cusco--definitely changed me for the better.