12:40 p.m. Okęcie Airport

I feel almost as empty now as a year ago. The only difference is that I know what awaits me. Otherwise, it’s as if I’ve stepped into some kind of time machine: I’m traveling alone; my thoughts are filled with images and faces of Lipnica; I sit wondering whether I’m doing the right thing in leaving; and I feel generally shitty about what awaits me, as compared to what I’m leaving behind.

What I dread most is going into work tomorrow morning. For a week I’ve been having the same conversation: “I really would like to come back, in fact.” To which Mary, Anna P., Benia, Teresa, i.t.d. respond, “So, come back.” “It’s not so easy,” I say, and I wonder — maybe it is so easy — maybe it’s nearly impossible.

I just feel basically trapped.

On the plane now, wondering more intensely than ever, “Should I be here? Now?” And the opposing question: “What would I be accomplishing if I weren’t here?” Teaching some lesson, I guess. Feeling a little better than I am now.

Sunday —

  • Woke up at 9:30 after 6 hrs of sleep
  • Helped with lunch — barszcz z uszkami
  • Met with Edyta — 1 hour and said bye
  • Went to bistro for ice cream and last words to Agnieszka
  • Met with Danuta; no tears this time
  • Rode with Kinga (around 7:30) to Murowanice to see Mary; forgot about her oral FC
  • Rode on to the lake for a while
  • Visited Benia: “You have a guest” as I approached; short conversation, think her sister Kamila offered to stay in the room with us; Kinga came up, talked with Benia for a while, including, “I hate English”; “No good at foreign languages in general.”

Last night in Quattro

  • Short talk with Benia, Mary, and Teresa
  • Conversation with Janusz’s friend [Marion]: would like to speak English as well as you speak Polish
  • Conversation with Kinga — you think like a woman
  • Talk with Kinga about waking up in someone’s arms
  • One hour of sleep before I left

The farther I get from LW — both in distance and time — the less realistic my thoughts of returning. As much as I want it, it will never happen. Once again, the farther I get from LW, the less realistic it seems. I was there only a few hours ago, and it might as well have been years ago.

I have this unrealistic hope that I’ll be getting more letters from various folks: Anna P., Kasia M., Marcela J., Kasia (IIB), Agnieszka Kubacka. And while part of me is of course hopeful, I can’t help but think it’s the exact same hope that’s been making me sprint to the mailbox every day for the last year.

Why exactly is it unrealistic that I’ll ever go back for good? First — it’s a simple matter of one person — C. She has no intention of going back — no desire. And even if she were willing, I’m not sure it would be quite the same. What I’m thinking of is a total immersion in the culture, which, as things stand, is impossible for Chhavi. And that emersion in culture that I want is total. Being with Chhavi would create an us-them division that would be all but impossible to overcome.

Second, there’s the ever-nagging worry that the life I’m looking for has disappeared. Enough of all that.

Third, I owe $10,000 for my student loan. I could never pay that off making the little amount I would. This seems to be less of a problem if I could just work a bit extra and pay it off now while I still have such a good job.

Fourth: A. I refuse to deal with that dork. Of course, that too seems to be less of a problem. I could just tell Jasiu, “I won’t come back there if he’s teaching at the liceum.”

Fifth there seems to be some kind of barrier that I would never be able to cross. I would always be something of an outsider.

All in all, I think what I’d be looking for is some kind of idealized life there that is unattainable. This desire to return is based on an exceptional week which would be impossible to sustain for very long. The new-ness would wear off for all involved, I think. Everyone wants me to come back to teach because they have Bucky as a comparison. That won’t always be the case, obviously enough.

Another factor: I’m growing ever older. I couldn’t continue living the life I had. A few years at most. A 40-year-old hanging out at the disco seems a little stupid. If I’m honest, I also have to admit that a ot of my social fulfillment came from friendships with students. There were few “adults” I was really good friends with. (And yet I think, weren’t there enough? Ramzes, Agata, Kamil, Kinga, Piotrek, itd.)

It’s all just a silly dream.