Epilogue: Heading West

Four months ago, I began writing to you, a voice full of energy, excitement and, as much as I didn't want to admit it, anxiety for what was to come. I tried to keep an open mind, leaving my entire self open to any adventures and misadventures that might await me in that great European abyss.

What a difference a semester makes, huh?

Who am I today? I learned more about myself in the past four months than I did in the previous twenty one years. I traveled to seven different countries, learned a completely new and, let's face it, unpractical language (ale to mám rad, a ty?), and raised my alcohol tolerance about sevenfold (finally!). I learned patience, because when someone doesn't speak English very well, it takes a while for them to tell fantastic jokes ("you may, when you can"). I discovered what Hannibal Lecter always talked about as the maze of the mind, and I spent a lot of time exploring mine and becoming comfortable doing that. I passed all my classes, even when the mornings were tough sometimes (...a lot of times...). In other words, I finally started to understand what my dad always told me: life is too short to take too seriously.

And another thing - I learned what friendship is all about (again). These past months, without someone in my life like Dan, I honestly don't know what I would have done (which is probably why I panicked so much when I thought I had killed him). Our last Tuesday night together, Dan yelled over the din of Nebe 80s night to ask me for some cash to buy a drink. Without hesitating, I immediately pulled out my wallet and gave it to him, and when I looked up, he was looking at me with loving eyes and said "you know Evan, you're such a good friend." I said, "we're not doing this right now" and went back to the girls I had been talking to. So, thanks Dan. You're the best friend a guy could ever have, and you have been for as long as I've known you. My life is better with you in it.

My plane ride home was long (and eventful - my day began with finding out my flight from Prague to London had been canceled), but the hours sitting next to my new Welsh friend Pete served as a fantastic transition back into life at home. I don't feel sad leaving Prague. I've been looking forward to this summer and this last year of college for ages, and I'm still excited to make it happen. What's more, in a way, I never left. And Prague never left me, and never will (and I'm not just talking about the jet lag).

Now, I'm flying high over a landscape I haven't seen in a while: the infinite, beautifully desolate desert of the American West. You know, I live in a vast, great country, and I'm proud to say I do. I love being able to talk about my country, my language, my culture to people who've never seen or experienced it. But if there's one thing traveling teaches you it's that right now, all over the world, things are happening. In a Croatian communist housing project, my friend Tonči is waking up, turning on his Queen music videos for the thousandth time, and wondering how to tell his girlfriend he quit his job. Tomaš is sitting in his armchair, marking the timecodes where there's narration in the latest documentary he's producing, while Zuzana whips up another babovka and Jonaš edits his website. My Austrian friend Andrea is finishing her internship in Prague and getting ready to move back to Austria. And someone, somewhere, is almost definitely putting his or her pants on, one leg at a time. Think about that - really think about it!

The whole time, this blog was a safe haven for me, a place where I could always go at the end of the day and know I could say something and people would listen (all four of you). In times of need, times when I really needed to just gush about something to people who knew me (or just knew how to speak English), it kept me sane. And if you've been reading this whole time (or if you spent five hours over the past two days reading every post, like Mike Kane), you've probably learned more about me than you ever wanted to know. So, I owe you a big thanks for participating in this massive interactive media project of mine, and I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, tell me with a comment or an email. If you didn't, you might like this better.

The song is over, the moment is passed and forgotten about, and I am the better for it. Now I have to figure out how to reassemble my bed in LA. Na shledanou, my friends.