Same Same, but Different

My philosophy is this:  It's entirely unfair for me to go from scaling 18,200 foot "hills" to saying, "I am just too tired to sit at this desk," especially when American custom publishing is in its busiest season.  So, sure enough I was back in the office within 24 hours of my arrival back into the country.

How am I doing?  Well, it helps that on once we'd walked all the way to Everest Base Camp, my fellow trekkers and I celebrated heavily on the downhill, and got very little sleep in the process.  (Side note: Brits and Aussies are fantastic celebrators.)  Then, it took me almost 48 straight hours of flying to reach home.  "What time zone are you on?" I was asked several times this week.  God only knows.  The one where you're sleepy all the time.

How strange it is to be back, though.  Standing at the baggage collection in Boston Logan, my eyes must have been the size of dinner plates.  Everyone was so quiet.  No one jostled.  I had ... personal space!   It's insane to think that just a few days earlier I was sitting on the backseat of a motorbike, clutching the shoulder of a little old Nepalese man as he dodged the bustling traffic of Kathmandu.  It all seems ages away.

Still, I'm back in familiar territory, and the routines creep back quickly.  In some ways, it's like nothing has changed.  Until, of course, I find myself editing a math textbook which carries one photo of a rickshaw bursting with passengers, followed by a picture of a Sherpa traversing a crevasse in the Khumbu icefall.  Then, I glance at the souvenirs scattered around my desk and smile to myself, just a little.  What a world.  When can I go back?