in my last few weeks in bolivia, i saw nutella in the grocery store and a hummer on the street. evo also announced he was going to stop the import of used clothing from other countries so that, for instance, bolivian grandfathers would not be walking around in sorority sweatshirts, but also seriously threatening to abate the size of the t-shirt piles at the el alto feria and therein a specific utility of mine in bolivia.
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i took these along with others things as signs it was the appropriate time to go. so i accepted the job in arizona and gave my notice at work, took a couple more weeks to buy a plane ticket, but eventually did click the "purchase ticket" button on the american airlines website one morning in early may. i made my last tours of the various markets, sorted through all the things i'd accumulated through the year, hurriedly packed it all up, and left the apartment with 27 chairs and five bathrooms and the country with two capitals and 500 years of suffering and oppression.
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re-entry was confusing and abrupt. i dragged myself through security at miami international at just before 6 am after the overnight flight, during which i hadn't slept much but instead talked to lily who was on the flight as well. i groggily watched the pot-bellied retirees in their tube socks shuffle alongside 35-going-on-22 latina women lacquered in white pants and gaudy baubles, each person invariably reduced to the exposed, discombobulated traveler, despite their best efforts to keep it and their carry-ons together. i stared for a while at the nutritional splatterings on the wrapper of my in-flight snack, realizing i was once again entering the world that cared about the hormone-free, the all-natural, and the transfatty. i listened to (and failed to comprehend) the several-hour long conversation on the flight from miami to seattle of the two gentlemen across the aisle comparing the respective market shares of the primary cellular communications companies. it just wasn't a topic i'd heard discussed in a while.
the summer was a hurried one that included queueing lots of music, video, and lighting, telling kids that no (happily) we didn't have the "party like a rock star" or "lip gloss" songs, but yes we did have and will (happily) play fresh prince's "summertime," re-learning how to hemorrhage dollars, and driving one sublime blue ford tractor. it ended with a fitting phoenix august morning playing marco polo and "surfing" with the 9-year-old son of friends in the backyard pool.
about the last month or so, i'll simply say that the leaves have been breathtaking, slowing the paces of both my walking and driving considerably.
and this will be all i'll write for a while, at least for myself. a combination of ecclesiastes, didion, and some conversations has provoked a certain abstention from needing to say anything, indefinite but hardly fatal. part of it's because i'm annoyed, part because i'm rather paralyzed, part because i've thought this through and analyzed it and told myself that it seems to make good, sound sense. in any event.
que les vaya muy bien. the end.
