Being Home, Finding Home And Going Home
Posted on January 18, 2010 with 0 comments
It has been great seeing my friends and family again. I got to play to play at Mojo's with Cindy Haight and Tara Lamont. I got to see my Uncle and the Lab rats (we, who hang out at the Labyrinth Press Company coffee shop). It's strange however, I call it home but it doesn't quite feel like home without my husband. Cheesy at that might sound, I cannot deny it. My home after all is in Norway now, with him and although I miss my 'people back home', I miss my husband even more. I miss my dog. I miss the ocean.
In this trip west from Norway I have stood in the clouds hovering around the Andes mountains; I have walked, with dysentery, from Cuzco to Macchu Picchu; I have watched men smaller than me run up and down thousands of stairs with 100 pound packs on their backs. I called them Super Andeans...and they were. I trekked with my mom for her 50th birthday on this sacred trail of 29 grueling miles through one of the worlds most majestic and riveting mountain ranges. At the end of trail, when we finally reached the great ruins of Macchu Picchu, we were breathless from not only the beauty but from the exhaustion of climbing thousands of stairs each day in air without oxygen, and being up all night with the woes of dysentery each night.
Both my mother and I agreed the trek was hardest thing we ever did. Thanks to our guide, Edwin, we made on our own two feet.
The rest of this trip to the Americas took place in New York State, a land with it's own beauty. I leave in two days to go back a new home in a new town which my husband moved us into while I was away. A new grueling journey awaits...one that involves finding a job and making friends (which I am not so good at, being as shy as I am). But I go home with a renewed sense of self, making the mythical mountain ahead of me seem a little less insurmountable.
In this trip west from Norway I have stood in the clouds hovering around the Andes mountains; I have walked, with dysentery, from Cuzco to Macchu Picchu; I have watched men smaller than me run up and down thousands of stairs with 100 pound packs on their backs. I called them Super Andeans...and they were. I trekked with my mom for her 50th birthday on this sacred trail of 29 grueling miles through one of the worlds most majestic and riveting mountain ranges. At the end of trail, when we finally reached the great ruins of Macchu Picchu, we were breathless from not only the beauty but from the exhaustion of climbing thousands of stairs each day in air without oxygen, and being up all night with the woes of dysentery each night.
Both my mother and I agreed the trek was hardest thing we ever did. Thanks to our guide, Edwin, we made on our own two feet.
The rest of this trip to the Americas took place in New York State, a land with it's own beauty. I leave in two days to go back a new home in a new town which my husband moved us into while I was away. A new grueling journey awaits...one that involves finding a job and making friends (which I am not so good at, being as shy as I am). But I go home with a renewed sense of self, making the mythical mountain ahead of me seem a little less insurmountable.