The End

And I'm home. It's amazing how quickly the last two years in Turkmenistan become like a sort of twisted delusion, a trick of memory that never happened. If it wasn't for the bag of carpet cell-phone holders, a new ability to drink 2 liters of Coke in an afternoon, and a variety of bizarre photos on my harddrive, I could probably convince myself that it didn't happen. My Turkmen host family neighbor once asked me where on the moon Americans live; if someone told me now that the Turkmen live on the second star to the right and straight on till morning, I'd probably agree with them. I get asked often if the transition is hard, how I managed to survive the last two years, how difficult it all must have been. The truth is that normalcy is not normal. What's "normal" on any given day shifts as often as the latest gossip on the grocery store magazine racks. One day it's normal for Tiger Woods to be the glowing symbol of all that's good and moral in this world, the next day... just look at what happened to Michael Jackson? He's the biggest running joke of a pedophile loony in the world, and the second he's dead he's a pop god. You get used to an outhouse in a day, treading around cow and camel poop in the street within three days, no Internet access in a week (or two), no fellow English speakers within three months, and the lack of tasty comfort food within six months. By the end of two years the only aspects of life that remain truly bizarre (and occasionally unbearable) are: the smell of boiling goat guts for dinner and a communal form of existence that sees privacy and individual rights as a form of cruel ostracism. But even when you want to scream with frustration when your host mom walks into your room without knocking (again), that's also just life as usual.

Being home is normal too. It's been almost three weeks now and all is falling into place. I leave for London on December 28 to start classes in International Non-Government Organizations at Webster's University, part of Regent's College located in the scenic Regent's Park in the downtown center of London. Classes start on January 8, so that leaves two weeks to find housing, get a cell phone, and get hired for as big a job as my student visa will allow. Although I wish for a longer transition, it feels good to be on my feet and running onward to the next adventure.

If I have stories to tell, the blog will continue. If not, then good night, good luck, and go visit Turkmenistan -- it's like nowhere else on earth.