I am at the end of yet another countdown. Though I think this one was definitely one of the more trying countdowns. I am sure the world, as its own absurd entity of trial and tribulations, carefully planned this one last attempt to break my spirit. But alas! I am in the final hour and a half of a 16-hour-layover until I load the plane to go to Seattle; my last leg that brings me back to the United States of America.
Being back in the US is a really odd concept to grasp right now. Sweden has been astounding. Whether it was just being with someone who had a long history of accepting my oddities, or the entrance into a “1st world” or “developed” country—I felt so at home. I understood the people, they understood me, my awkward humor, and most of all: they shared my love for coffee, tea, and pastries! Their concept of chatting over coffee with pastries is one that I personally think every country should emulate: FIKA, how I’ve loved putting your definition into practice. See below for example “A” of Fika in Sweden with Neen-bo-beens.
Here is the after photo:
Yes, we ate all of it.
What a beautiful way to finish up my travels, with big larger-than-life cinnamon buns and coffee. The theme of this week has definitely been coffee—in fact I’ve already had three grueling cups today in attempt to get the internet. However, unlike Jordan, you actually have to buy an account here in Iceland.
Which brings me to my next travel story…
Yes. I have been in Reykjavik Airport for a cumulative total of about 13 hours.
Once I board this plane, I will have been at the airport or in a plane for 22 hours.
When I arrive in Seattle it will be 30 hours. I personally think this is very impressive! Accepting my fate early on was certainly a strong playing move by me. The fact that I knew I would be twiddling my thumbs for the majority of June 3rd, 2011, allowed me time to prepare, and a calm general acceptance of doom to center in my hypothalamus or whatever facet of your brain that makes you calm…
Let me tell you about the airport. Downstairs: BORING. Metal seats and a chilly breeze from outside (fortunately I had this fantastic blue blanket, and Nina’s sweatshirt to create a makeshift hobo-home for myself next to two other poor souls doing the same thing I was). However, you can buy one cup of coffee and get as many refills as you want—this I milked until I handed the coffee container back to the barista to refill it. Though I got maybe one successful hour of sleep, the coffee, GORP, and book Unscientific America, kept me company until 12:00pm, when I was allowed to re-check my bags.
At this point, I could go upstairs! THIS was exciting. Not only does Reykjavik airport have a HUGE sunroof, but they also have long black cushiony-plush couches perfect for napping. I took full advantage of this, after playing with the nail-polish in the Duty Free store.
Well, anyway, I ‘m sure the details of Reykjavik airport are thrilling for you, but I figure I should do some kind of closure for this blog!
Recalling the title, Real Hummus, I can safely say I’ve never had as good of hummus as I did in Jordan. That was a given. I am sure Hashem’s restaurant trumps all other hummus-types I’ve ever had. I’m not sure what they do…but Nina and I attempted hummus and it did not look like Hashem’s. Though it was tasty.
So, what is the Real Hummus that I’ve learned on my travels? Well I learned how to entertain myself for 16 hours in the airport—this is also known as “patience” I believe…J
Often people say that after students come back from doing a “semester abroad” they have changed—they have life-changing plans fizzing and stewing inside their brains. Well, I can assure you…the only thing inside me is a whole bunch of hummus which I’m sure has monopolized all artery real estate since February.
Anyway….as I wrote before, I thanked Jordan for opening my eyes to all aspects of a culture I never would have understood no matter how much I read about it. The same goes for Israel/Palestine (though not the same depth), and Sweden. Perhaps I will later have that “aha!” moment, though I’m not expecting it, nor neglecting it. I know how to travel more intelligently and with more preparedness. I know how to relate to the people I want to relate to. I know patience. I know what I want to learn more about, and I know I don’t know. But I think most importantly, I know how to be a fool, and that being a fool often teaches you how to be a genius.
No matter what I’ve learned or missed out on, I feel as though I’m coming back to Seattle satisfied, more understanding, full, and very, very broke.
Thankfully, this is America, and I have a job lined up.
So thanks for reading this you three or four people. And I apologize in advance for repeating stories you may have read over this coming summer.
See you soon,
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