In his travel classic, “Soccer Wars,” the recently deceased Polish writer Ryzkard Kapuscinski described his difficulty returning home after an extended stay abroad as follows: “I returned to the editorial offices but had no idea what to do. I felt smashed inside, shattered; I wasn’t suited for anything; I wasn’t in touch; I wasn’t there. I did not regard my stay in Africa as merely a job. I had gone there after years of having to function as a cog in the complex mechanism of instructions and commands, theses and guidelines, and Africa had been, for me, liberation, where I had left part of myself behind. Africa was a film that kept playing, an unbroken loop, non-stop, in show after show, but nobody around me cared about what was happening in my cinema. People were talking about who had taken whose place in Koszalin, or arguing about some television program in which Cwiklinska had been first-rate, although others said she hadn’t been, or giving each other merry advice about how you can travel to Bulgaria for a holiday inexpensively and actually make money as well. I didn’t know the man who had gone to Koszalin, I hadn’t seen that program on television and I had never been to Bulgaria. The worst thing was the acquaintances I would run into on the street who would begin by saying “What are you doing here?” Or, “Haven’t you left yet” I understood: they did not regard me as one of their own. Life was going on and they were swimming in its current. Talking about something, arranging something, cooking something up, but I didn’t know what, they weren’t telling me, they weren’t expecting me to go along with them; they weren’t trying to win me over. I was an outsider.” My own reintegration into my native society was similar, although I was fortunate that the transition was eased by the support of friends and family. While my experiences differed greatly from those around me, the extended time apart meant that we had plenty of stories to share and, even after living radically dissimilar lifestyles, I was pleased to find that the personal connections had not changed. The holidays were spent with family in Atlanta and my brother Brian flew down from Connecticut to spend Christmas with us. During his visit, we went out for an excellent meal to celebrate my mother, father, and brother’s birthdays, as well as my parent’s 30th anniversary. Supplementing the wonderful meals prepared by my mom, my dad dipped into his vast wine cellar to select some transcendent Brunello’s and Chianti’s. As could be expected, there was no white Christmas in Atlanta, but the frigid temperatures have convinced me that the portmanteau “Hotlanta” is misleading. For New Years’ Eve, I drove up to Nashville, Tennessee where my college friend, Nathan, and his wife, Holly, have recently relocated. In addition to the hosts, other friends from college – Ryan Waggoner, Ryan Learmouth, Tom King, and David Higgins – made the trip from Washington D.C., along with their significant others. On Saturday, the group explored the local attractions, which included the Country Music Hall of Fame, a honky tonk bar, and the bustling streets of the Music City. Even a driving rain could not deter the crowds and our determination to experience the unique local culture was eventually rewarded with our joining hundreds of men with ten gallon hats and women with ten gallons of makeup packed tightly into a small bar. Despite my general antipathy for country music, the live bands were impressive. While the transplants that make up the nightlife in Atlanta are disturbing doppelgangers of me, the people in Nashville represented a very different background and the scene felt slightly foreign (or, more accurately, I was the foreigner). Among the more memorable parts of the night was when an assortment of women climbed atop the bar and danced along with the lead singer of the band. The beauty on display varied from stunning to horrific and the lovely goddesses on one end were offset by the aging harpies on the other end. One woman, who seemed particularly immodest, continually exposed a revolting scar on her bloated abdomen. The unattractive show was met with a variety of eye-rolling, head shaking, and mutual exchanges of disgust throughout the audience. Although I don’t know what a meth addict looks like, it was generally agreed that she would probably fit the description. The witty quip of the night went to Ryan Learmouth who observed “apparently post-partum depression is communicable.” After a night on the town, we chose to avoid the huddled masses and elected to stay at Nathan and Holly’s palatial home to usher in the New Year. Satiated from a three-course meal, we sat around a bonfire while Nathan whipped up egg nog. After a low-key celebration, the first hours of the New Year were spent sipping unpalatable kava and singing off-key karaoke. In the morning, as I made the drive south to Atlanta, I reflected that I have spent past New Years’ in Panama, the Grenadines, Japan, New Zealand, Singapore, and Thailand. Still, while Nashville might not be the most exotic of locations, there is nowhere that I would have rather been to begin 2007. In early January, I decided to brave the cold and drive north to Ohio to visit family. My first stop in the hinterlands was in Columbus, Ohio, where I visited my cousin Eric, who is a student at Ohio State University. Longtime readers might remember that Eric lived with my family in Atlanta a couple of summers ago and visited me in Tahiti last year. As luck would have it, I arrived in Columbus just as Ohio State was preparing to face Florida for the college football national championship. A palpable excitement coursed through the campus as the big game approached with everyone wearing red and people singing in the streets. In attempt to fit in, Eric provided me with a Buckeyes jersey and we joined the festivities at a college bar. After an exciting pre-game build-up and a promising start, the game deteriorated quickly. Joy turned to shock only to be replaced by disbelief, quickly followed by despair and ultimately settled into resignation. By the end, we were one of the few stragglers left in the bar. Despite the disappointing result, it was fun to be back on a college campus and I was pleased that the people I met mistook me for being young enough to be a student. I spent the remainder of the week in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio spending time with family. It was great to visit with my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who I have not seen in a couple of years. Everyone was extremely welcoming and I witnessed my first snowfall in several years. Throughout the week, I was able to share my sailing experiences and I was pleased to be able to present a slide show including many of the pictures from my travels. As always when I visit Ohio, it was an enjoyable trip and I look forward to a return trip in February. On the way back to Atlanta, I again stopped in Columbus, this time to visit my Aunt Sarah and Uncle Bruno. In college, I spent a summer living with them while I worked at their business, Crystal Classics. It was nice playing with their two young children and the visit yielded the added benefit that I secured my first sponsor. Bruno agreed to sponsor my journey and the link to Crystal Classics can now be found on a banner at the bottom of the homepage. Hopefully, this will be the first of many corporate sponsors. 2007 has not been all smooth sailing. In late January, I endured one of the most painful experiences of my life. Thus far, I have been fortunate to avoid much in the way of illness. Generally, my few bouts with sickness pass quickly and do not require aggressive treatment. This one was different. It started out normally enough when I spent the first night vomiting and attributed the discomfort to either a stomach flu or food poisoning. However, after an entire day suffering from these symptoms without any sign of improvement, my parents contacted a relative who is a physician. She recommended that I go to the emergency room since my case was unusual for someone my age and suggested some affliction other than the flu or food poisoning. Still feeling miserable, I followed her advice and my parents drove me to a nearby hospital. After a series of x-rays, the nurses attempted to insert an NG tube down my nose to pump out my stomach. For those unfamiliar with this torture device, this is a tube that was probably designed by the Nazi Dr. Mengele and seems to be just slightly wider than the width of a nostril. Adding to the horror was that after 24 hours of vomiting, my nose and throat were raw and ultra sensitive. The first attempts to insert the tube did not go well. The pain was unbearable. After several failed attempts, the procedure was aborted when the bloody tube came out of my mouth. Sadly, I was not free of the ghastly NG tube and I nearly choked when it was inserted the following morning. Despite being painful, the tube was effective and successfully stopped the vomiting. Additional x-rays revealed a blockage in my small intestine and the problem was corrected by a combination of the NG tube and an IV pumping medication non-stop. Following three days in the hospital, the blockage had been adequately relieved so that I could leave the hospital. Fortunately, the swelling and pain subsided after a week and I returned to more or less normal. While the episode was severe enough to warrant a stay in the hospital, the affliction was much more of a discomfort than a life-threatening event. I appreciate all of the people who expressed concern during my brief internment and I am especially thankful for the help of my parents who looked after me while I was at my most helpless. If there is a silver lining to this occurrence, it is that it happened while I was near a hospital instead of when I was stranded on a boat. After visiting friends and family and enduring sickness, my attention shifted to finding a job. The process was slower than I would have liked, but I was pleased to eventually accept a position with POM Wonderful, the growers of fresh pomegranates who produce the tasty juices and tea that seem to be all the rage these days. The job will require me to relocate to Los Angeles, so I will be heading west to the warm and sunny shores of Southern California. I have not spent much time in Los Angeles, but I am excited about the opportunity and look forward to exploring a new area. Thus ends an eventful couple of months. The upcoming weeks look to be a busy time as I attempt to transition into my new role and to adjust to the LA lifestyle. Since I will be located near the welcoming waters of the Pacific, I am hopeful that I will be able to find some sailing opportunities so that future entries will include details more exciting than a description of my cubicle. After an extended period of neglecting my website updates, I plan to resume my monthly postings and hope to convey the experience of moving west.