It's funny how campus just empties out whenever there is a holiday near. My classes have been reduced to a fraction of their size with the official end coming tomorrow. A class of 35 students became 6 yesterday and I had my last few classes of literature as one-on-one sessions. The silence kicks in and boredom as a distraction from work is irresistible. I am trying to get my studies up to speed so that when I return home I won't have to worry as much. But that impending departure tomorrow makes the longing heighten. And then it hits me. I am going home. For Christmas. Tomorrow. Time's funny. I'm laughing.
It's strange that Christmas is 4 days away. I haven't heard a Christmas song. I don't smell pine. I don't see snow. Hezzy and I were reminiscing about the holidays and traditions over dinner last night, chatting with his Italian roommates.
But I want to digress for a moment. Hezzy is my hero. He invited me over for dinner last night where I was put to work making spinach taglietelle. Yes, we made pasta, by hand (well we had a machine) but from scratch. And dinner was lovely, a culinary delight. It's been sort of funny because between me, Hezzy and Sarah brought up in comparison to our Italian roommates, we the "Americans" are more adventurous and inventive in the kitchen. Don't believe the stereotypes, people.
So anyhoo, Christmas is coming and I am hoping on a plane tomorrow for the interminable day through time changes and various airports. I hope that the bags arrive, because I really will need the gifts and books that I cannot bring on the flight with me. So one last day of classes, packing, and home sweet home, here I come...