riga

First, can I just say that I forgot how much I hate airplanes? I mean, I'm super grateful that I don't have to make long journeys in covered wagons, but really I hate those flying dungeons of torture. I've never gotten motion sick on a plane before today. I guess it was technically yesterday, but with only an hour and a half nap between them, yesterday and today seem like one LONG day. And 13 hours in the sky is a long time to be motion sick and unable to sleep, and then my bad knees began to ache from being stuck in seated position for so long.

But I made it to Riga.

Maybe because of my long trip, it's hard to say how exactly I feel here in Riga, SO many mixed emotions are brought on by being here, and I can't sort the good ones from the bad ones. Kind of like when I read the goodbye letter that Danny gave me. Missing him and being super grateful for him just kinda mix together in an emotional mud puddle.

Walking around Riga today was great and a part of me felt like it was absolutely a magical miracle to be here again. But then there was this part of me that felt like I had never been away, like any minute P-day would be over and we would have to head off to some appointment or a park for contacting. Maybe this last feeling was aided by the fact that NOTHING has changed. The fashions, the smells (vodka and tobacco) , the stores (Super Netto has the same advertisment hanging in the window that it did two years ago), the buildings (falling apart but still so beautiful), the jeers from men as they pass me on the street, the way it hurts after a while to walk on the charming cobblestone streets, the babushki ranting about anything and everything that is wrong with the world. It's all the same.

Here are some of the things I realized I missed most about this place as I was out and about. I miss being in a place with real history, buildings built in the 13th century. I miss being in a place worthy of having souvenir shops. I miss having flowers EVERYWHERE. Everywhere you turn is another flower stand, another girl holding a flower from her special someone or a special someone holding a flower, waiting for his girl. I miss the street musicians, especially that little old lady who playes the accordian--another unchanged feature of Riga. I miss the feeling that I can conquer the world. I'm in Latvia. Who's ever heard of Latvia? And I own it. I know my way around, I can manage. I can enjoy myself. If I can handle this, what can't I do? Although, I'll admit that is a feeling I'll be glad to trade it for the safety of home when the time comes.

But at the same time, there's a weird feeling that I don't belong here anymore. This was my home as a missionary, but without the tag, in some ways I'm a stranger again. I don't understand how I was able to come to this place and somehow be OK with staying for a year and a half. I am excited to quickly see Daugavpils and Tallinn and then move on to other sights, other places that will be strictly excitement, no emotional mudpuddles of nostalgia or feelings that I've had my time there and am no longer welcome. I guess you just can't really go back.