The Hardest Part

I am beginning to wonder what was/is the hardest part of this whole journey? Is it the walk and its various parts or is the return back "home"?

When I arrived in the U.S. (I first landed in Charlotte, N.C.) I went through the usual customs procedures only then to find myself having to go through a second, Homeland Securities search, whereby some very stoic official tore apart every single thing I had with me down to empty plastic bags and folded up socks. He claimed I had been to too many countries which thus warranted my shakedown. I felt like a criminal in my own land.

I had crossed so many borders during my previous months and at nearly all, I received smiles, congrats on my walk (miles done up to that point) and even welcomes. In my own country I received nothing, not a "welcome back home" or smile or anything. Only the unfriendly patdown of a convict. It set a rotten tone.

The U.S. citizens at the airport were also a different breed from the folks I had been interacting with these past months. Movements were faster, everyone was on a handheld device, little courtesy, lots of swearing.

Since I had missed my connecting flight from Charlotte I was fortunate to find a United Airlines rep who was very sympathetic and booked me on another flight on a different carrier without much layover time. I needed his friendliness to get me through the next couple hours.

I arrived in Cleveland, Ohio to spend time with my family. Things started off well and I tried everyday to maintain a sense normalcy. But to be honest, my head hasn't adjusted to being back, my body is drained of energy, and it ended up not being my best family visit.

On the eve of returning to SF I question how I will feel walking into my studio apartment, being surrounded by city. I feel unsure. By not walking I do not seem to process my days as well as I was when I was on the road. I'm not making the best decisions. My head spins suddenly and then it stops but I am not entirely sure where it has stopped. If I was the Happy Wanderer in Europe then I feel like the Lost Soul in America. Maybe all I need is more rest and time to reaquaint myself to home life. I hope so.