Porto

A month ago, i was on my way to portugal with Angela. One of the most amazing trips of my life. 3 plane flights, many cities, and lots of contacts all over the world later and I'm in Middlebury, Vermont doing things like watching the world cup in a random vermontese's living room with his hilarious family, and going to the nearby lake on days when class is cancelled 'snow-day' style because it's too hot to have class in the aircondiitoned classrooms. Whatever, that one i still haven't understood, but i'm never gonna question cancelled class.

Point is, its been a weird, long, slow transition. i'm still in the middle of it, i can feel it. When i think about how recently i was on another continent, i almost get a sense of veritgo. none of this can possibly be real. I can't possibly be studying organized crime with the leading mafia expert on the face of the earth, not to mention writing papers to be read by him, and answering his very daunting and complicated questions in another language in class. Too many things seem unreal, not even because they're positive or intimidating, but mostly because its too much too fast. i need a moment....