Amsterdam, July 26, 2009, at 15
Last night there was a farewell to Soba and all the friends left behind. Less moving than I expected, you see that I had sold out of emotion with that of Mayo. For dinner, I did make a speech, I was very short and they all understood why, after which I went to finish packing, and when I left the room with the two huge trolley were all sitting in the middle of the garden wall that demarcates the central path. I embraced them all one by one: Antonella, The Queen, I was near the beginning and who shared the secret of this blog: Monica and Helen, the first to welcome me and take me to change money, Alfonsina, the logistics Marco, James, and then Alfredo, and then the new: all of whom I have given very generously a piece of himself in such an important moment of my life. At ten and a half we ended up hugging, we mounted on pick up, Clare, James and I, we were greeted with applause and screams , Elena has thrown water on the car, a gesture of good luck that we learned from the Serbs, and left in the night. At the airport we stopped a little and then inside, documents, visa and on. At that point I discovered that I had remained in the hands of 60 pounds of cash Mayo (bring them to those of Emergency I'll have to go see in the next few days) and I realized that I no longer wearing my backpack, with PC and all the rest: for once I was afraid (I had not had nearly two hours before when I did not find the passport was in the wallet, but I had already scoured the garden and raised the alarm ) until Clare saw him, leaning on the ground to control, I left there after the car passed safety. If I did that in any other airport I would not have seen. It was not the last heartbeat: there was the ceremony of weight and even if I did my tests I was afraid of trouble, thank God that there were. It was midnight when Clare and I walked through the door and we entered into international territory, at a quarter we were embarked and we took off. Is just past the hostess, as promised, we took the wine (terrible, but who cares?) And we made a toast to his companions stayed at Soba.
Khartoum Goodbye, and thanks.
Now I'm here, one of the canals of Amsterdam, watching the water flowing and the people who walk and ride around me, flowers, green. I was expecting a list that now there is: two worlds are so different that I can not, at least for now , to be confused with each other.
arrived this morning in Skypol we wandered to the huge airport and the first thing that struck us were the liquor stores: the second astronomical prices (but no: only European) than those of Khartoum. Clare greeted me at the train into the city: she left again after an hour, I was touched all day here.
I walked at the pace of office for almost eight hours, visited the Van Gogh museum for good (11 years ago we were there with the boys: they were also good but we could not exaggerating) have a nice day drinking beer sitting at a bar in the Rembrandtplein, and now I'm tired: the voltage is going.
What remains of all this? I will understand it very slowly, and will trust him to at least not this blog. Of course, I was all: I have lived things I had only seen on television or the movies: I've changed. But how? What effect will do for me? Me Time will tell, I now need to reflect.
Writing, as I understood, it was a good cure, kept me connected to the world, allowed me to concentrate on what was happening around me.
The blog, the link tenuous and impalpable with you and with myself over: henceforth walk alone. Maybe I will draw a book from these notes, as I had thought about doing from the beginning: my son Mark was thinking of posting those who were in the blog notes not to lose, not to forget what I saw. And if you write it, perhaps this book will have a different ending, but here I can not greet all, one by one, including The Queen, which I read now, before closing for the last time the pc and take the Skypol to train.
few hours I'll be home in the middle of Kawaja. I do not know if I will be better or worse, I'll certainly different.
Thank you all. And to paraphrase my beloved Dickens: as Tim said, the little that God bless us, everyone us.
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