flying home

I can't help but feeling that this trip has been, well, quite a fiasco. And a very expensive one, too. I am so happy for your sweet and kind comments on my last post, and they made me feel a little better. "Adventure is discomfort in retrospect" ... yes, there are probably loads of things to learn from this trip, even though right now I just want to go home and forget the whole thing.

We did manage to get the best out of these last few days, though. The nausea thing got better ... and instead I got a rather nasty cold. At least it was easier running around the city without being afraid I might throw up (which I never did, but it was still very uncomfortable to think I might). So we took the boat to Ellis Island to go to the immigrant museum which was quite fascinating (seeing as that is quite the height of history they have here), and we went back to the Met for another day because we loved it there, and we went to Guggenheim and saw a brilliant, big exhibition of all of Catherine Opie's work which made me want to learn to photograph. And yesterday was paper shopping day, so now I just want to go home and make stuff.

Flight leaves this afternoon and we'll be home at about noon tomorrow. I'm quite worried. I'm not at all afraid of flying but I have flown with a could once before, when I lived in Lyon, and it was downright horrible. I felt as though my head was going trying to grow rapidly, painfully and in all directions at once (or else just explode). It was quite awful and this time I have a nin hour flight to look forward to. Oh well, wish me luck.