32 (or 1000 photos later.)

Back in the United States.

I arrived around 2am Saturday morning, collapsing in my bed at my dad's house just as I expected. Woke up with an odd feeling of detachment. This feeling will last until I collide with the reality and weight of my departure.

collision is such an ugly sound.

The end of Costa Rica was nothing short of sweet. Well, in some ways it was, I suppose, since I was leaving. Our last Saturday morning we had our agricultural film fest at the farmers market and it felt so good to see the final products and so many people from the community watch and comment. On Monday we had our Oral History & Material Cultural symposium and every seat was filled in the auditorium and people made comments and asked questions and had discourses about our projects and that's what this is about. It's about the community. Matt and I decided last minute to present bilingually ourselves and I am absolutely, absolutely thankful for his friendship and comraderie, in the classroom and outside of it. 100 percent. On Tuesday we had our big, intimidating ecology and anthropology symposium, which went well, despite being 8 hours long. And from there we packed, had our final goodbyes, and were torn from Monteverde. I walked with my mom down to Santa Elena on Thursday (she was going to work, I was going to the bus) and she cried the whole way down. I need to call her this week.

Socially, the final week was filled with bars, fiestas, BBQs, slip n slides, hammocks, salsa, and being pined after. Pura vida. I learned how to act out this concept. After three and a half months, the life wasn't romanticized anymore. It was just life. It was just living. And it was healthy, with or without the charm.

When I got into Charlotte I started crying, and it is the only occasion during this entire farewell process where I did. Everything was so bright and loud and mean.

Luckily DC and Baltimore are not so much those things. The people, I mean. Saturday I unpacked and cleaned and James picked me up and we went to Baltimore to see Good Luck. They closed with 1001 Open Hands and right before they played it, "This song is for Hillary from Max and it's about being positive about the future." And I think I can do that. I think I can be positive. I feel this shell around me, but I think it will become more malleable as the days go on. What I liked most about Saturday night was that I was not overwhelmed by "SO HOW WAS IT TELL ME EVERYTHING BLAHSLBADDSSK." It was just a "hey, nice to have you home. let's hang." and that's it. Once I get settled down I will want to tell everyone about everything, but I don't have the capacity currently to really...to talk about my trip. I'll get there though, I promise.

As I said good-bye to Yanni last weekend, he said something along the lines of "whenever you feel bad, you will be able to return." And right now I don't feel bad. I ask for patience, though, allowing me to go slow with my reentry. But my heart will let me know, let me know where I will go.

huge, HUGE photo posts coming within the next few days.