I got a manicure and pedicure yesterday in preparation for a party my sister was throwing me, Inbal, and Denny for making it back home. A welcome back party as people often call it. Cat treated me to a mani-pedi, because I'm broke and she's a good friend. The last time I got a pedicure was right before I left for Asia. I left the paint on for over four months, slowly watching it fade and chip off, but never actually removing it--partly to piss off Denny and partly because I just didn't give a shit. When I got back a few weeks ago, I still had some red peaking off the tips of my toes. Now, they are scrubbed down, clean, and pretty--painted with a shiny, poppy-red hue that makes me feel like a new woman. As I was getting the bottom of my feet scrubbed and my arms massaged with lotion, I came to the realization again--this backpacking trip is really over. My new nails are like ... a new era in my life. My feet are no longer disgusting and I'm wearing heels again--something I wouldn't even consider, nor was it an option, two weeks ago. I hate heels.
I still miss traveling daily. I waited for about two weeks to completely unpack my backpack. There's something about home that makes me so, so lazy and I didn't want to face the reality of what unpacking really meant. I washed my clothes and was looking at all the dresses I wore for four months. It made me do that thing I do when I miss a person or a place--when I broke up with my ex, I had a bunch of his old t-shirts and whenever I really missed him, which was often post-breakup, I would smell them, which had that aroma that was distinctly him, and think of him. Somehow nestling my head in his t-shirt would bring him back to me a little bit. Wow, that sounds pathetic when I write it all down, but it's true. Anyways, I started to do the same with my dresses--they smelled faintly like my backpacking backpack, a little bit like incense, the beach, and laundry detergent. I started thinking about all the amazing things I did, and saw, in those clothes. How I ran around the beach in Indonesia in my sun dresses, my hair full of salt water, my skin tanned, and my feet sinking in the sand. How I hiked all around Angkor Wat in those shoes--those dirty, dirty sneakers that I can now, never get rid of for sentimental reasons. I didn't dare smell the sneakers though.
Last night was truly a blast. I love having all my different groups of friends in one room, talking together, drinking together, and co-mingling in a drunken state of bliss. I ended up getting drunk, running around the bar, smoking cigarettes with reckless abandon, and stuffing my face with quesadillas and nachos at 3 a.m. with my posse. I woke up and found a lemon, three coasters, and a plastic drink menu in my purse. I think it was a variety of friends who put them in there when I was drunk and oblivious. That being said, it would be really easy for someone to steal from me at a bar. Too easy. We also always end up playing the butt grabbing game, where we run around the bar and pinch random people's asses. It's awesome and somehow hilarious, albeit inappropriate. Pretty typical San Francisco night and one of the best in ages. It made me feel happy to be home. It made me think that home, isn't so bad--it's actually really fun and only furthered my belief of having the coolest friends in the world. I do, I really do.
