Reentry Shock and Jetlag

(I wrote this Sunday morning)
Yesterday (or possibly two days ago…) I woke up at 4am Seville (9pm American time) and said goodbye to the city that has become my own. I ate a last breakfast of olive oil and toast and té con mile (honey tea) and rolled my 50 and 55.4lbs suitcases to the elevator. Maria gave me besitos about 4 times. She asked me to forgive her for anything she had done to upset me (? But so cute) and told me again that we had been really great chicas. Sam and I both fit in one taxi driven by Maria’s friend named Antonio. As we drove away, it was like a movie. Maria standing outside in the darkness, waving us away from Tarfia 9. It probably should have been raining as we passed through the orange tree lined streets, now full of almost ripe oranges. The taxi cab smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and Antonio was playing sad Spanish music on the radio, inspiring Sam to say, “Sad music? What the heck? I am not going to cry.” As she said that, tears were already dripping down my cheeks so I turned my head toward the window and let go of Seville, the Gualdaquivir River, Parque Maria Luisa, the Giralda, Plaza de España, and the rest of it.
We arrived at the airport, boarded our flight to Madrid, and when we arrived, had a five hour layover, during which people tried to blow their last Euros, and we played games such as Dutzi, LCR, and Hearts. After that, we boarded Iberia Airlines to fly the 10 hour ride home. Unlike when we arrived, this flight was entirely in daylight. It went a lot faster than the flight there, in my opinion, because we knew this was it with our group. We had little reunions by the bathrooms to stretch our legs, and did some crossword puzzles, took some ridiculous pictures, watched the plane inch across the Atlantic Ocean on the screen, napped, ate plane food- paella, and watched Stardust. Then all of a sudden we were descending into Chicago O’Hare, 40 minutes late.
When the plane touched down, I thought, “Well. Here we are, the end of my adventure.” Then I realized the adventure is just beginning.
In Chicago, I was very weirded out by all the signs in English. I also realized that I listen differently to Spanish and English, and I was still on Spanish mode. I was surprised by all the American accents of the passport control and customs officers, the sudden lack of Spanish, the sudden rise of large numbers of Americans themselves, hearing music that didn’t make me cringe, and American food. (In case you’re wondering, the first thing I ate in the United States was a strawberry banana smoothie, followed by an actual banana.) One of the things that surprised me the most was sales tax. In Europe, they include the sales tax in the price of the item. Genius. Especially for very tired, overwhelmed college students.
My flight to home was delayed for 3 hours, during which I spent time with Julie Ann, and then fell asleep on an airport bench. When I woke up, I wanted to brush my teeth, but could not remember the name of the place you brush your teeth in English. So I was walking around the airport terminal looking on all the signs for how you said “Servicios” in English. I finally remembered – restrooms – and brushed my teeth.
25 hours after I had woken up, I walked off the plane and saw my family. With respect to being home, I was surprised by the tallness of Ralph, the softness of our toilet paper, the huge-ness of our bathroom and refrigerator, and the sheer silence of it. The only thing I can hear right now is the central heating (!). The tree branches are bare and contrast with the blue sky and white snow outside my window. My bed is like the softest thing I have ever felt, and I am hungry.
So I take leave of this post, to go have my first real meal at home.