welcome home...sort of

it's incredibly strange and normal, all at the same, to be home. for the most part, things haven't changed, but it's still strange to be back where i can understand everything going on around me, can order or request things without having to mentally translate first, etc. and although leaving venice was really sad and involved a long list of lasts, i guess i never realized that coming home would involve the converse "firsts" like my first time driving, tipping, using a drive through, using my american cell phone, doing laundry with detergent and softener, not paying for water in restaurants, using my debit card for any/everything, drinking american coffee, sleeping on sheets and using towels that don't feel like sandpaper...the list goes on. i'm doing my best to enjoy those things instead of thinking about how much i miss venice and the people there.

luckily a few girls from the group will be in w-s this summer and 2 people from the group live in charlotte near me, so i'll hopefully see them all pretty often. brad came with mom, dad, and i to the wachovia golf championship a few days ago so it was sort of like being back in venice. nevertheless, not seeing all 18 other kids every day has certainly been strange and things have been a little boring since i got back.

getting back was an adventure that started at 3am the morning of the day i was supposed to leave. one of the guys in the house had a bag stolen and every one got riled up trying to find it. then the 4 other people on my water taxi overslept and only had about 20 minutes to get ready. then we had to pay a porter to take our luggage from the water taxi station to the terminal at the airport and when we couldn't find the man OR our luggage, we thought it was stolen (we found him eventually).

then i felt so sick i barely made it on the plane to paris. but i survived, and managed to not get sick on poor keron, who was on the flight with me. my only major complaint was that they wouldn't let me use the bathroom on the plane til nearly touchdown time--just plain cruel, really. by the time we landed (on time or maybe a bit late) and got on the bus to the terminal, i was getting concerned about connecting on time. sure enough the bus took forever, then i had to go to an entirely new terminal and check in again and go through security again. once i made it through that ordeal, i had to walk about a mile to the gates (the paris airport is undergoing some serious renovations), and ended up at mine with approximately 5 minutes to spare. whew.

appropriately, the weather in venice was as chilly and rainy the day we left as the day we arrived and the flight attendant on my long haul flight home was as evil about the size of my carry on as the man who yelled at me on the way to venice--it certainly all came full circle in a bad customer service sort of way. the same woman then got snarky when i explained that all i wanted for lunch was an appetizer and dessert. no cheese, certainly no heavy food along the lines of the entrees they were offering--i don't do normal jenny-level eating when traveling. i'm sure she got great satisfaction out of the fact that i managed to drip shrimp sauce and chocolate cake on myself. as if i hadn't made enough business class fauv pas, i then watched the movie Bobby and cried. but hey, when you're the only under 40, single person in the entire cabin, i suppose abnormal behavior is to be expected! despite the newly acquired klutzy behavior, the flight passed really quickly and i was back in the states.

that flight landed on time, but sat on the runway for what seemed like forever, so i didn't even deplane until 3:30 and my next flight was at 4:30. i pretty much ran to customs, where i got the passport stamped, but then had to go hang out in the "agriculture" area since i brought food (cookies, mind you). luckily a porter was helping me with my ridiculously heavy bags and i even ran into my friend alex, whose plane from zurich had gotten in early and since mine had gotten in late, we were claiming our luggage to clear customs in the same area. she and her family saved me by paying the porter (i had NO cash since i'd been gone so long) and telling me to go on. i had to walk out of terminal one, where i'd arrived and cleared customs, to terminal three. this involved walking on a busy highway type road...props to jfk for being such a well planned airport. once i got there, the line to check back in was really long, so a delta rep helped me over to a machine. the amchine told me it was too late to check in. so the rep bumped me up to the front of a line where a human could check me in, then took me to the front of a security line. security was a hassle and didn't exactly go smoothly since i was in such a hurry and the lady in front of me was just plain evil. i then realized after clearing security that signs only indicated gates 4 -15, so a info desk lady told me gate 25 (mine) was in terminal 2 (connected to 3 by a looooooong hall). i pretty much ran to gate 25 where at least 5 different puddle jumper type flights were boarding (no announcements, etc...just a large mass of people, standing). so i pushed my way to the front, got rushed down towards the plane, and onto the plane, successfully making myself one of the last people on board. the three men in front of me were venetian, which only made me sadder about leaving. despite all the stress, i made it to raleigh safely. my bags, on the other hand, never made the flight, and arrived sometime the next day, so waiting that out was stressful!