On this day, back in the final year of the Twentieth Century, I turned twenty-two. I was in Manhattan, cowering in a dingy hostel and all alone in a city of eight million people. No small fraction of whom were actually crazy.
I was on my way, by a kind of circuitous route, from Australia to Finland – where, it turns out, I was to spend the next twenty-two years of my life. Give or take the occasional vacation, and an unfortunate deportation incident with the immigration authorities.
Still, can’t complain.
Today, I turned forty-four and have officially spent half my life in either hemisphere. I’m in Sotunki, tucked away in a cluttered home office and far from alone in a country of significantly fewer than eight million people. There’s some crazy.
It’s been a fun ride. I don’t foresee the next 22-year leg involving any immigration, or any change and upheaval at all if I have any say in it, but I’m looking forward to getting started.