I Am Not The Same Person Having Seen The Moon On The Other Side of The World

“Where do I begin?”

We were gathered at Brewed Awakenings Coffeehouse in Grand Rapids, MN, peering at each other over cups of steaming soup and tea.

“Start when you got off the plane in Athens,” someone offered.

Outside cars bobbled down snowy main street.

A few hours earlier, I’d climbed into the driver seat of my blue jeep and stared suspiciously at the steering wheel.

I hadn’t driven anything in almost four months except the occasional oversized, purple bicycle. And nothing had changed, except suddenly I was sixteen years old all over again as I awkwardly pushed the pedals thinking, maybe driving could wait a few more days … or months.

But common sense reminded me that I’ve hiked alone in Turkey, managed the Paris metro system with two suitcases and developed a taste for eggplant in Greece.

I should be able to drive a jeep in the snow.

I turned the ignition and my car belly-ached to life. I’ve collected a few cheesy mottos in my travels. How about this one?

There’s no turning back now.

Pulling onto Hwy 2, I started to slide back and forth, but moments later I was moving forward, below the speed limit, but still moving in the right direction. I drove with the radio off, enjoying the 30 mph speed limit through town. When I reached my first destination - the YMCA - I had to think quickly about parking, worried I would miscalculate the turn.

We never know quite where we’re going or how we’re going to get there, but somehow we always arrive. I’ve been coming home slowly since the 22nd of December, when my plane landed in Minneapolis.

But before that …



I left Paros on December 11th with three wonderful friends who followed me to Paris on the 12th where we spent three days wandering through the city of romance.


Notre Dame. The Eifel Tower. Arc de Triomphe. Galeries Lafayette. Sacré Coeur. Luxembourg Gardens. We drank wine in a Montmartre café and scouted out a vegetarian dinner around the Latin Quarter. On our last night together I went ice skating outside Hotel De Ville with Lindsay.

Then it was a bittersweet goodbye.

I was leaving Paris for a different part of France the next morning (Dec 15th) with my friends Robert and Ben. The rest of the girls: Molly, Lindsay and Brianna, were staying in Paris for a few more days. We’d been together since the beginning of September. Without them, my time in Greece would have been incomplete. I miss them like crazy and love them like sisters.

The next morning I woke up and set out to meet my boys. We were supposed to meet at the airport, but ended up meeting in the Paris train station, where we exchanged long awaited hugs.

It was SO GOOD to see them.

We grabbed apples, bread, cheese and orange soda, hopped on a train leaving for the city of Rouen (where Robert had reservations at a hotel) and said goodbye to Paris for a few days. I felt an immense freedom as our train moved through the countryside.

We spent the next few days walking and talking, visited the site where Joan of Arc was burned, devoured endless amounts of chocolate and wine, took a train ride to a tiny city of Dieppe, where we ate bread and cheese for lunch on one of the Normandy beaches. We went to mass in an old Cathedral on Sunday morning where the air was so cold we could see our breath in the pews. As much as I enjoyed Greece and Turkey, the days we spent France were by far my favorite.

On December 19th, we woke up at 6 a.m. and caught a train back to Paris. While Robert and Ben tried to sleep, I sketched nervously in my notebook.

The sun was just coming up, warming the hills of rocks and green grass.

As our train rocked gently towards its destination John was flying into Paris from Madagascar. Three months apart, a handful of letters, one phone call that lasted less than five minutes and a dozen e-mails. It was inconceivable, but somehow we managed without trying to just live our lives until they were ready to come together again. I knew I was going to meet my boyfriend at the airport. But who we’d become during our time apart was another question.

When our train arrived in Paris, Robert and Ben left to find the hostel where we’d be staying with John for the next few days.
I took the metro to the Charles De Galle airport alone.

It took a while to find each other … but sometime after lunch, John strolled into the waiting area with his friend Amelia. Hugs. Laughter. More hugs. What else do you do after three months except smile? Paris was waiting so we took the next train into the city, where we spent our last three days with Robert and Ben. We ate lunch along the Seine. Drank wine on the steps of the Sacré Coeur. Shared chestnuts under the Eiffel tower. Drank the most amazing hot chocolate of my life at an upscale restaurant called Angelina’s and always there were stories to share and questions to ask.

Those day are already getting blurry.

On December 22nd, I left Paris in a rush and found myself ten hours later in the Chicago O’Hare airport watching a skinny Santa Claus get on a plane for Dallas-Fort Worth with Mrs. Claus, who was wearing a blue moo-moo with equally blue eye shadow.

No doubt about it. I was home.

Beginning to end there is no conclusion except perhaps, nothing really ends. It lingers. I eat more tomatoes now. I walk slower. I catch myself looking for English words on the backs of packages, surprised the labels aren’t in Greek. I have to think about using quarters and dollars instead of euros.

When too many thoughts start chattering in my head, I go back to the Paros shoreline or I go back to the view from the highest peak on the island, and the sound of the wind blowing over the rosemary and thyme, the way the sun set around 5pm and the entire island would glow.

But I always knew it was temporary. Now its time for dorm rooms again, late nights studying and plans for the future.

I want to spend part of next summer working on a farm through the WWOOF USA organization, maybe in the Northeastern part of the States. I want to apply for a Fulbright. I want to write for a magazine. I want to learn more soup recipes and I want to read the classics. I want to rock climb and train for a half-marathon next summer, but most of all? I want to enjoy time with friends that I’ve missed since last summer. That’s first on my list.

As I finish writing this blog, snow is falling in my backyard and my dogs are curled up on the kitchen floor. School starts next week and my car is already packed with boxes. I’ve come a long way.

Where do I begin now? Maybe with a prayer.

May our roads be long, brilliant and winding. May our lives be filled with compassion and expression. May we struggle, fail and falter. May our successes be counted in cups of coffee shared with friends, rips in our suitcase and buds in the garden.

Practice kindness. Cultivate beauty. Be kind. With any luck I'll see you soon ...



HISA GIRLS FALL 2007