Today, one of our seminar professors described what a hassle it was traveling in a packed van across the desert in Mali, the temperature pushed past 110 degrees F, hours and hours of driving. It made me miss Namibia. What a comfort it would be to be back in those vans driving the ten hour stretch from Windhoek to Luderitz, stopping to buy sodas at gas stations every three hours or so when another town grows up from out of the sand and the shrubs alongside the highway. These are some of the random things that traveling can make you feel attached to. It's always the parts that become routine that I miss most.

I didn't think being here would require much adjustment, but I always feel vaguely confused. It's like being in some version of a US city where everything is shifted a just a little bit so I am always just a little bit off. I feel so short and like I'm always running late. Everybody here seems to tower above me, gliding along on their bicycles and keeping to a tidy schedule.

And seminar classes are over. We've read the books, we've heard the lectures. We've had receptions with harpists and champagne and then, within the course of a week, visited an asylum seeker detention center where the people get less than the price of one of our catered dinners to spend on food for the month. Scratch that, maybe the price of drinks and hors d'oeuvre.

So, what am I doing here? The general theme of the entry applies: I'm only getting more confused.

Amsterdam this weekend, though. I am thrilled to see this city.