I find myself doing a lot of things, mostly eating things, with the air of "I won't be able to do this when I'm in Guyana." Eating sushi, and pizza, and Chinese food, and blueberries, and local beer... ok, I'm sure Georgetown has at least some of these things (and maybe even sushi but I don't think I'd risk it) but out on the river? Doubt it. But each of these things is still somewhat disappointing; I gorge and yet feel unfulfilled and often throw up later. Because it's not really food I'm wanting, not even the tastes of home, it's just a desperate attempt to grab hold of my past that is slipping away every day, and now is finally being yanked away entirely for three months. There's some panic. I've never been to a place this 'foreign', never been somewhere on my own, for this long. And I'm doing it all on a hope and a promise and a couple of emails from some people I've never met.

I wish I could more cleanly separate myself from him, but as I get ready to do this I keep thinking about what he would say or think, or how the way I'm living my life compares with the way he's living his or the way we used to live ours together. It's not productive, I know. Its like the whole mess left me with a wound, a big wound that is sorta scabbed over and so forth, now, but it makes me travel with a limp, no matter what I do.