Preface

Such a strange feeling today-this evening-my last on the European continent. I'll wake tomorrow before the sun and board a plane to cross "the pond," to the New World, to my goal destination-to South America. Things are seemingly happening quickly, all at once, but I feel like I'm in slow motion. I planned out my remaining three months and bought tickets to Connecticut departing from Colombia. This seems like a big step-one of the final steps-to cross the Atlantic and arrive in the same timezone as my countrymen-albeit a different hemishpere. I feel like I'd be better prepared for a sea journey where days, sometimes weeks seperate departure from arrival. Enough time to let go of Europe, to reflect and think of the things I've experienced and learned and to detatch from it slowly in a neutral environment like the open sea, which speaks no common language, waves no flag or shares a universal climate or ethnicity. Then finally, to look towards the horizon of the setting sun, to find the patch of green and prepare for it, study it while I'm still a ways off from its shores. Then perhaps I'd be eager-with proper preparedness-to step onto the sand ready for whatever may come.