End of the road for now

Well, the three-legged flight from Bangkok to Salt Lake City went off without a hitch – starting with a curbside drop off and heartfelt good-byes at Suvarnabhumi airport (the same airport which had been, up until a week ago, brought to a standstill by anti-government protesters). According to plan, the airport terminal was mellow on New Year's Day. Towards the end of my flight to Taipei we paralleled the entire island of Taiwan providing amazing views of the country in the late afternoon sun. When the temperature inevitably dropped a few degrees, I had to swap out my shorts and t-shirt for a pair of jeans and fleece jacket in a bathroom stall (shoes were mistakenly packed away so it's flip flops all the way home). After a two-hour break, I boarded my flight to San Francisco – still mostly Asian faces around the cabin, but now English dominated conversations and it seemed as if everyone was packing the familiar dark blue passports. Once again, not much excitement during the ten hour flight over the Pacific – unless you count the woman with vomit-bulged cheeks who shoved her way past the flight attendant just as (I swear) she was handing over my breakfast – an omelet in some sort of warm, creamy sauce. Several hours and one TSA interrogation later (it seems that taking a three-month vacation in developing countries makes you "suspicious") and I was officially cleared for entry into the United States. Of course, if I had the choice and none of my upcoming obligations, I probably would have turned around right then and there.

Somewhere over frozen Nevada, I started getting a little depressed at the thought of returning home. Jumping, un-acclimatized, into the depths of a cold Utah winter aside, I started feeling those inevitable pangs of sadness – even loneliness - at the thought of my trip coming to an end. It seems like only last week I was scrambling to finish off a river season, pack, say goodbye to friends, pour over maps, highlight guidebooks, and tie up all the other loose ends before flying off to Hanoi. Suddenly, I find myself at home, bundled up against the cold, typing away and wide-awake at 4:13am as I fight a seriously losing battle against jet lag. A case of the post-trip blues is to be expected - a small price to pay for such an amazing journey, I suppose - but already I'm starting to miss the experience of being on the road, of just traveling. I suppose if I have any really serious character flaws, the inability to satisfy my wanderlust ranks way up there. One journey always leads to another and another and another. A curse, I suppose, or a blessing – depending on your point of view.

But I did it – woke up in Bangkok this morning (according to the calendar) and will, hopefully sometime soon, go to sleep in Utah. What a trip.