As soon as I arrived at the airport, I ran into an old teacher. One of those teachers who changed my life, taught me to write, pushed me until I cried and let the things inside me flow in the form of words in a balance similar to Gay Telese, and by doing that, he taught me to love journalism. After catching up with him for a while, we got on the plane. My mom on one side, and emptyness as my right parnter. I couldnt be happier! I could strech without having to respect anyone’s personal bubble.
After a 6 hour flight, we got to JFK to find an hour long immigration line. One hour, 32 minutes and 17 seconds to be a little more precise. The reservation at Carmine’s was lost, and we needed to settle for room service. The immigration officer looked tought, but wasnt really. Although he did ask a lot of unecessary questions. For example: what kind of economy does your dad practice, micro or macro? Response: I have no clue.
Taxi line, taxi drive, and getting stuck in the elevator are some of the ocurrences that delayed our family reunion after that. However we finallh got to the room, jumped up and down while screaming of joy.
For the first time ever, I have woken up before the rest of my family and trying to come up with something new and exciting to do today.
Wanderlust 