I am outside of the Arab World now and reporting to you from Bob's Youth Hostel in Amsterdam. There have certainly been numerous moments of what my traveling partner Zak and I have been referring to as "reverse culture shock." For example, while walking down the street past restaurants here, the proprietors do not to try to physically drag me into their stores. It seems as though they don't even want my business. This is similar to way all business transactions are conducted in this country. Product? Money? Done. No conversation, no tea, no hours of a day passing by. I almost feel used. It was all about the money for you? For shame.

It has been interesting for me to see how the cultural norms communities can differ in subtle ways. Here in Amsterdam, there is no problem with me picking up a Walk 2 Wok (EXCELLENT Chinese food) take-away box and picking at it as I walk down the street. In Morocco, public eating was a fairly serious no-no. I once had multiple people move away from me because I took a bag of potato chips to a film festival. It seems that since the act of eating is so social in Morocco, to walk around with food, implicitly refusing to share it, was a borderline taboo act. Just an example, chosen among many.

So what great revelations have I come to during my time abroad? I don't want to overstate an ecstatic rebirth as a world traveler. No, I do not plan on dropping out of Haverford, buying a Gore-Tex hat, and wandering from hostel to hostel like some of the people I have run across. Still, though, I am glad that I went abroad and still more glad that I went to Morocco and not to Europe. If for no other reason, the Euro is absolutely KILLING us. The Canadians have a more powerful dollar that we do. The CANADIANS. But besides the obvious monetary advantages to coming to the Arab World, it was still (albeit moderate and as Western as possible) still the Arab World. And I'm glad I had the opportunity to see for myself what that label entailed. But I've learned that I certainly enjoy a change of pace and a new scene, I will be happy to come back to the good ole USA. While the deprival of creature comforts may be an illuminating experience, I certainly miss some of those creature comforts. I plan to continue, retroactively, my Moroccan Thoughts section once I am safely ensconced in my room in Portland. While they won't have the "hot from the presses" freshness of my previous dispatches, hopefully the process will keep the journalistic impulse alive a little while longer.

So, starting this evening, my travel plans are thus:

18:25 train from Amsterdam to Paris
Spend the night in Charles de Gaulle Airport WHERE
I'll catch a Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt
Thence an 11 hour flight to San Francisco
Thence an hour and a half flight to Portland, OR
Local time: 8:01pm

And I'll be home. It will be a transition, to be sure. Anyone reading this in Portland? Drop me a line and I'll be sure to catch up. We can swap a few stories, perhaps.