Going Home
The flight over the Alps was remarkable in that there was absolutely no turbulence. Compare that to the RyanAir flight I took in January—I was amazed when realized we had already passed Geneva today with nary a bump. The reclined seat in front of me means I’m wedged into this seat pretty tightly as I try to fit both myself and my laptop within the space afforded me by some arcane airline calculation of what is habitable “space” on a nine hour flight. If it sounds uncomfortable, it is. But that’s nothing new.
I’m heading back to the US with mixed feelings. I’ve tried to keep politics and suchlike out of this blog, because it’s supposed to be a record of my experience in Ivrea. But coming home is part of that experience, and so are the attached emotions. I’m not even sure of the words to describe my feelings at the moment, other than to say I expect to feel nervous in my own country.
Or can I even call it a country any more? Sometimes “banana republic” seems more appropriate, what with disputed election results, crushing deficits, weakening currency, and a free press that parrots the latest line fed to them from Washington. I mean, is the recent “discovery” that troops are under-equipped in Iraq really that much of a revelation to the US population? Where have they been getting their news? I’ve known about these problems for a couple of years now—this is not new information, especially if you cared to look for it.
I could go on at length about all of this, believe me, but I’m not sure it’s worth the trouble. It’s just talk, after all, and I’ve become a believer in getting things done. Let’s leave it at that.