So.

That was quite the trip.

In some senses, an unmitigated disaster - but not for the existential, philosophical reasons I was brooding over in my last post (and last year, for that matter.).

No, it was much simpler than that. It was COVID-19, and the hell she wrought on my time with family. I made it this far into the pandemic, only to get COVID for the first time, one week in to the trip. Still, I thought - at least we’ll get this over with and be super immune the rest of the time!

But then Chad turned positive the same day I turned negative, so we spent most of our time in San Diego isolating from his family. And then my brother tested positive a few days before we flew east to Philly. In quick succession, his wife, their toddler, and my parents all had it.

Now it must be said: all seven of us had mild symptoms and recovered well. That is a blessing indeed, one not to be taken lightly. Thank you, vaccines and boosters! But we did all test positive for a full 10-11 days, and we erred on the side of the utmost caution for many reasons I won’t bore you with here. Which turned a trip carefully planned and designed for quality time with missed loved ones into a haphazard tour of AirBnBs - the good, the bad, the leaky ceilings.

I’m not gonna lie - it sucked pretty hard. There were definite bright spots, though. More time than expected with my other (non COVID-striken) brother; great catch up (read: venting) sessions with old friends while we avoided the other COVID-stricken Pasquarellos; my first big indoor arena concert and major league baseball games since 2019; and so. much. time. spent outside.

But still, a disappointment. Even now, days after getting back to Cape Town, I’m still grieving it. That time is precious no matter what, even more so when you live so far away.

I mused in my last post that home is for me, perhaps, more people than place. In that sense, it feels like I didn’t really go “home.” Because, for the most part, I wasn’t with many of those people. Coming back to Cape Town did feel like a homecoming, to our dog Xochi, to our friends here, and - in some ways - to myself. Or at least to a less stressed and more centered version of myself.

So, while I have lots of observations on consumer culture and politics in the States (all hypocritical ones, I might add - I was shopping and bitching with the best of ‘em over there), the shift this year feels more subtle. Still, sadly, away from the U.S. At one point I declared to Chad, “one more trip like this and I may never come back.” As soon as the words left my mouth I felt my throat tighten. Because, while said in the heat of yet another AirBnB switch, it also felt painfully true.

Towards what, though, is still unclear. I guess that’s often the challenge, right? I find it much easier to know what I don’t want than what I do. And for that matter, easier to write here about what I’m against than what I’m for.

But more on that in another post :)