You know that jittery feeling of anticipation that crawls up your throat when you catch glances with a beautiful stranger? That's exactly how I felt about two months ago. I was in love with the idea of going abroad. It's blissful. But everyone knows that being in love with ideas is dangerous and bliss can be fleeting. The concept of going abroad is settling into my mind in a very different way now. I see my time abroad almost as an escape.
Life, whether it be because of DC or just the anstyness of the twenties, is moving quicker than I'd like. It is not moving in a bad direction or in fashion I'm not happy about - it's just going too bloody quicky. Egypt, I think, will be a brief moment away from my life as I know it. Ideally, I'll rediscover what I've lost in the fast-paced blur I've been in. I'm trying to remain realistic: Cairo will not be the tranquil, stress-free antithesis of modernity i'm hoping for. Arabic will not come easily. Things will not be as cheap as I'd like nor classes as easy.
Nevertheless, a toast to departure.
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