Every year when I leave to go away on winter vacation I play this silly game with myself about how few clothes can I wear to run out and find a taxi to the airport. Considering the temperature was about -15 when I left, it is rather ridiculous to going running out first thing in the morning with no hat, no gloves, no boots… just a t-shirt and a light fleece jacket. But the alternative is being strapped with a heavy wool coat in your luggage while laying on the beach. Normally the anticipation of beautiful sunshine and warm weather is enough to ward off frostbite during the unpredictable hunt for transportation. The dream of the beach and warm sand blocks out the unpleasantness of frozen toes and an icy nose. But the way home is just awful.
This year my traveling companions and I had mixed up our return dates. We thought we had one more day to enjoy the relaxation of a Thai message, we were dreaming of what our final meal was going to be, we were planning how we could extract every last moment of fun from our vacation, only to realize we had to leave a day earlier if we were going to drive down to Bangkok and make our flight on time. This disappointment of a lost day, and the ever increasing chill in the air as we headed north didn’t do much to excite me upon my return. It is a not hard to run through the streets when you're freezing but spurred on by great expectation of what is to come… it is a lot harder to retrace those same frozen footsteps when the only thing to drive me onward is knowledge of more winter to come.
All that to say I made it home safely!