Oh Yes, Minnesota
The customs agent in Minneapolis, sensing fatigue, asked several trick questions, including “How far can you walk into the woods?” and “How many eggs can you eat on an empty stomach?” – but even though “until you’re eaten by a bear” was not the answer expected of a fully-acculturated U.S. citizen, they let me back into the country.
After having managed to sleep until 5 this morning, I went outside to revel in the stillness of a Minnesota dawn*, which had penetrated nearly skin-deep when the mosquitoes found me. Having smashed half a dozen and allowed three more to escape within the space of two minutes, leaving my foot with the most assaultingly itchy injuries of the trip (and I won’t post pictures of my new and much-abused callus, but that’s saying something) I went inside; jet lag-enabled beatitude is too much a contradition in terms, I suppose.
I have until Thursday to catch up on internettnings and compose a proper travelogue; then it’s back to California, and moving, and a dash of field work, and cleaning and scrubbing and moving and moving. But now it’s time for breakfast.
*We crashed, and are still crashing, at my aunt’s house, a number of minutes from the airport the smallness of which I am very thankful for.