I've been spending many of my free hours this last week in Internet cafes and cafes offering free wifi, filled with foreign travellers. It's a sort of buffer around the reality of being in a strange country attempting to conduct life in a language I barely understand and can speak almost no words in. Forming a complete sentence is nearly impossible. In writing, and with the aid of un dicionario, it is not nearly as messy. I can express precisely, with proper grammar. But this has always been my problem. I have no eloquence in the spoken word. I expect it will continue to be my biggest frustration as the journey progresses. I think I can handle the aloneness, I have much practice in that aspect.
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Still, when I hear these familiar songs it is hard not to miss 'home.' I don't really have a good answer when people ask where I live. Here, wherever that happens to be, I suppose. The turtle carries his house with him. I know where I belong, but somehow it seems more personal than I care to explain to strangers.
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I feel innocuous in Antigua; pale in the reflected light of the rainbow colored culture. Though how much of that is just smoke and mirrors I haven't been able to decipher. It's all just a matter of perception though, in the end, isn't it?
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