The Wall Had it Coming

I am faced with a most conflicting sets of circumstances, and I find myself struggling: I have no right to be bored in such a place but that is just what I am. I am itching to begin my studies, to delve deeper and fly higher and perhaps crash harder than I thought possible, to have my work be just good enough and even still be torn to pieces. I have been blessed with such a life-changing experience, and every single aspect of my current situation ought to scream: this is amazing! And yet, there is no resounding echo of awe and wonder. I feel normal. Unchanged. At home.

Almost.

There is something different about the air here: it is piquant, saturated with anything and everything even the most avid dreamer could imagine desiring. Every corner yields to another unexplored path, and flood waters recede to unveil expanses of a city that has seen so much, and given so much. It is true that I have not felt an overwhelming sense of alteration since arriving, but I am beginning to feel the air saturating my bones.

And yet.

Góðan Daginn, Gamall Vinur

International travel is truly an experience unlike any other. It is a game. A waiting game. Waiting all day for it to be a reasonable time to leave for the airport. Waiting at the airport because you left home far too early. Waiting around in your stocking feet with dozens of other people, also in various stages of undress. Waiting to take your seat in the plane. Waiting to land. Waiting in the airport on layover, watching a boy band brushing their teeth at the gate.

Most of all, waiting for it to finally sink in that I am already hundreds of miles from home, with hundreds more to go.