Love and the suitcase
By Jessica Burris | November 24, 2009Some of us are prone to wander. I wonder why. It seems that every year, I depart for a new unknown.
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Some of us are prone to wander. I wonder why. It seems that every year, I depart for a new unknown.
I was doing my best to forget a difficult week in paradise. New Zealand's springtime greenery is an unfairly cruel temptation during exam time here.
I could certainly write a novel about my import-riddled American life. I drive a Japanese car to the local farmers market, write my American political theory essays with Chinese ink and dance around my bedroom to country music in my Sri Lankan underwear.
It's 10:04 a.m. and the University of Auckland is watching me at the Munchy Mart. Six eyes - four human and two electronic - follow the movements of my body, gazing intently as I navigate the campus convenience store.
I am currently writing to you, dear reader, from within a Windows screensaver. For the last six days, I have been languidly drifting through the Yasawa Islands of Fiji, drinking in the scenery with yet another pineapple cocktail.
I have joined the Auckland University Tramping Club, which is far less risqu
U.Va., consider yourself safe for now - I'm spending the semester in New Zealand. Thanks to Wi-fi, Skype and the narcissistic jamboree known as Twitter, however, I can easily remain in touch.
