The End (sob)

Well, I’m back. After 10 months in Portugal, I’m back.

June 30: I woke up at six am. I was so excited, I couldn’t sleep any longer (though normally, I try to resist all attempts at waking me until at least nine). Walking down those red spiral stairs, I noticed the lack of stuff. I could have gone roller skating in our tiny house. I counted our last Portuguese coins as some of our neighbors helped us load up our gear. We were on our way to the airport.

I noticed the tiled roofs and cobblestone streets fly by and remembered watching the Lancaster farms zip past us as we drove to the airport in Philadelphia. When we got there, my mom wanted to spend all the euros we had left. I got a couple pretty good key chains out of that. That made us a little late. After much slipping on the waxed floors and silently begging the passport people to hurry up, we just made the plane, five minutes before take-off—no wait.

On the first plane, there was no screen on the back of the seat in front of me. I fell asleep, which was probably good, because I was about to get time warped. Well, sort of. I just added five hours to my day.

In London, we had four hours to board our next plane. Four hours never passed so fast. We almost missed that one, too. Imagine the sight from the perspective of the crew waiting for the Allen family at the gate:

On the big plane, I got a kid’s British Airways pack: magazine, socks, and some postcards. I immediately turned on the entertainment system in front of me. I watched Toy Story 2, tons of Cartoon Network cartoons, the Lightning Thief, and How to Train your Dragon. By the time the last movie was done, my ears hurt too much to think straight. Not sure whether that had anything to do with landing.

My grandparents met us at the airport. I was pretty happy to see them. Well, actually, I was ecstatic. Actually, I was happier than you could really write on a blog. I did guinea pig impressions all the way home. Then I can’t remember putting my head on the pillow. The next morning, I woke up at six again, thinking it was nine.

I’m very happy to see my friends, family, and mac ’n’ cheese again, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss Portugal.