While in Tibet I had received an email, and a request to call, from N.K., my future boss, and on August 15th I had a meeting in Schwalbach to discuss my future job, as it had been decided to change it while I was in Tibet. Real life was going to kick in straight after landing in Germany.
In Kathmandu, however, I was surprised by a horrible queue at Gulf Air counter , and a 5 hour delay of my flight from Kathmandu to Bahrain: There was no way I could catch my flight to Germany anymore, and my dad was already flying from Bogota to Frankfurt to pick me up at the airport, and help me in getting an appartment (2 weeks before I had to start working!).
It won't come as a surpirse that I flipped out, and insulted the useless lady at the counter (she spoke Nepalese and Arabic, great help), and with the few Rupees I had left, made a call to Colombia so that my mother could tell my dad I was not arriving in Germany as planned anymore, and he could call N.K. assistant, and say I would not make it to the meeting. God, how I felt, my first meeting with my future boss, and I was not going to show up, nor was I going to cancel personally!
After the flight finally left Kathmandu, I started wondering what my new life was going to bring with it. I hoped it would bring hapiness, and friends. I was not over leaving Boston (let's face it: I am not over yet), and hoped I would be able to make a life as satisfying as the life I had in Boston, and would quickly adapt to Germany, and to work.
The flight landed in Bahrain at 3am, and we were granted entry to the country, as there were no more flights that night to anywhere. The next flight to Germany was scheduled for August 16th at 00:10, so I was to stay almost 24 hours in Bahrain. Gulf Air put us in a hotel in Manama, but our luggage had to stay in the airport: When we entered the country we were granted access, but our bags were not. I was not sure how to feel or think: A person who hates heat, sitting in the middle of the desert in the middle of Summer, and with only trekking pants, trekking shoes and a BU hoodie to wear. What an irony. Looking back it was probably the first sign that leaving Boston was a bad idea, however, and thankfully, I did not notice it then.
The day in Manama proved to be exciting: I learnt the arabic numbers, walked around the hotel and went clothes shopping, and once at the airport, got to meet two of my group mates from Tibet, who had left Kathmandu a day later, and had been lucky enough to arrive in Bahrain on time to catch their flights to Europe.
Auugust 15th 4 years ago I was stuck in the Middle East, preparing mentally for my new life. Now, 4 years later, I am sitting in my living room, remembering, and wondering where all the hopes I had went wrong, and how I managed not to get over Boston. Part of my hopes, the friends part, has been fulfilled, and I do feel grateful for my friends here: R.DJ, S.D, S.C, P.L., I miss those friends I made, who have already moved on: Al.R, Ash. R., J.T, L.A, A.C, and I wonder how much more I will be able to take people leaving and moving on, while I can't decide whether I want a career, a family, or a life, whether I want to live a comfortable life, or live a happy one, and whether I want to take what life brings me, or actively run after my dreams.
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