homecoming

Most likely, I'm still coated in a thin layer of silica mud from the Blue Lagoon. At least, it was still billowing through my tights on the three legs of my 31 hour trip home via Keflavík - Paris - New York - San Francisco despite my attempt at a thorough shower before checking out of the spa.

After a month, I'd have thought I'd be ready to come home, but this trip felt different. I'm not sure what I'm coming home to.

I had about enough energy last night to set down my bags, collect my mail into a pile, and brush my teeth before collapsing into bed at what I thought was a reasonable 9:45pm, considering that my Keflavík - Paris red eye earned me a meager 3 hours sleep. I read through Paris - JFK and will admit to having plugged in the free headphones to watch 27 Dresses. Romantic comedies seem to be following me this trip. I do still sleep well on planes and managed to miss almost all of New York - San Francisco.

I woke up at about 3:45 this morning, but stayed in bed until a solid 6:30. Sorted through my first pile of mail to a podcast of short stories by Mavis Gallant (whose book I am now determined to track down), then started to unpack.

The sun, the heat and the quiet feel oddly foreign. I am wondering what my new life will be like.