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Well, I’m back in my mountains, where it’s cold and there’s snow–although not very much this winter. I’m sick as a dog right now, inevitable I suppose after the multiple shocks to my system of the flight back, the dancing all night and drinking too much in San Francisco, and terminating my malaria anti-biotics.
It is strange to be back at work, but I don’t feel any kind of “culture shock,” at least, not yet. It’s hard to say what I feel right now, which perhaps is due to aforementioned shock. The trip already feels very distant, almost like a dream. It’s amazing how quickly the self that I was there faded into the self that I am here. It seems to have something to do with not being able to speak in Spanish any longer–my mind has quickly reverted to it’s standard English thinking state. I’ve been writing emails in Spanish at least.
As I was driving down the 50 back from San Francisco, and ascending into thickets of pine and rocky passes, I realized how fucking beautiful it is here. Everytime I come back from somewhere else, I am always amazed. This is a truly gorgeous place and I am lucky to live here. As much as my hearts yearns for city life, I don’t know how I could ever say goodbye to the crisp blue skyline punctuated by pines.

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Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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