I am SO exhaustingly tired. My flight from Newark to Boston was cancelled, so a 3 hour overlay turned into a 9 hour overlay. Atleast customs took up a long time, so it did not seem that I was waiting too long. I had the most amazing holiday back home in Latvia. When I first landed there I had such joy, I felt I was going to burst. The month I was back ran past me, the days scurried past so fast. Every night before bed I realised that another day had gone, and I tried to slow it down just by lying still and reading for a while. I barely thought of having to return. One night as we were sitting in the living room I was fiddling with my phone and opened the organizer which has a calendar, and only then I realised that I only had a week left. Still I did not manage to do everything that I had planned. In that last week I wanted to visit a favourite place of mine where one can have a drink. Its above a studenty gallery and is called Istaba, which means: room. Its a funky place. I was also planning to go for a walk by the river side, (though I did go for two walks by the seaside, which made up for it). There were other things on my list, but I have forgotten them now. In any case the days continued to scurry past. Until the time came for me to have to leave. I flew out of Riga, but I felt that I had left myself behind, and I felt torn and extremely sad. In dublin I carried my bags over to a bus, that was to take me to my hotel, though sadly Dublin has no bus stop names, so it is extremely hard to navigate. I asked the bus driver to help me the moment I stepped onto the bus, but he was reluctant. So I stood at the front trying to read passing street names, but could not locate where they were written. The driver having watched my pathetic attempt, in the end offered some help. Sadly his help made my walking trip to the hotel twice as long as it should have been. None the less I made it to Iona drive, and walked over to number 7 only to find out that there was no hotel. I was knackered, and all my energy was spent, but after some more pouring over my maps, I realised I had to be on Iona park, which happened to be the next street down. The next morning I had an early breakfast, and a free ride by an out of service bus whose driver was heading to the airport anyway. So all in all my day started quite well. It simply all went wrong once I landed on this side of the big pond, onto American soil. Whilst the other people from my cancelled flight enjoyed the liberties of free tv, and an american football game (which was accompanied by their loud OOOOOHHH and AAHHHH sounds) I still have yet to understand how the game works, so instead I ventured to explore… though the Newark terminal simply went right round in a circle (which one could make a full circle march round in exactly 1 minute) and the 9 hours started making me feel trapped. When the plane finally took off, I finally landed in beautiful Boston, from where I had to take the slowest and most expensive taxi back to Simmons (The T was already sleeping by the time I got here), so soon enough i got to sleep and rest (for I had been up for more than 24 hours, and the few hours that I did sleep at the hotel where hourly interrupted by my subconsciounce that wanted to check whether it was time to wake up: 1.34am 2.21 am 3.45 am 4.56am …
