Super Barrack Obama

"Sou pehr bah rachobah mah! Sou pehr bah rachobah mah!"
"Excuse me, what?"
The portly taksi driver continues to gesticulate widly as he blazes through Turkish traffic. "Sou pehr bah rachobah mah!!"
I listen in earnest..."Ohhh! Barrack Obama, yah yah, Super Barrack Obama!" I agree with a thumbs up, which were quickly detracted as I realized that might be offensive to him in some way.
"Not Super George Bush," he continues. "Super Clinton and Super Barrack! Not Super George Bush."
"Yeah, sure. Sure," I shrug, not wanting to press the already strained conversation. "Well, Kent Hotel," I gesture toward the blazing red letters on the facade of our residence. "Thank you very much," I smile as I step onto the eternally slick streets of Istanbul. The taksi man grins widely, bearing his ill-cared for teeth, but in his eyes a glimmer of joy met mine and I knew that even though we only shared the words 'super' plus 'current/past presidents', we had made a small impression in each others' lives.

I thought about this for a while after my brief encounter with this taksi man and realized how many small impressions I've made on people during my four months abroad, not to mention the lasting impressions people I've met have made on me. I can recall the Armenian girl I met at a cafe in Berlin and how I thought, "Man, she's impressive. She can speak five languages and she's only twenty-three!" Or that guy at Starbucks in Berlin who had a dog that looked like Dani and I freaked him out beyond all reason with my excitement. Or what about that insanely drunk lady who accidentally kept spitting in my face, Lucy, I think her name was, from Australia in a London pub. Or the entire staff at 'Cute Guy Restaurant' in Florence: Claudio 2, Manuel, Meat Man, This Is Not A Pub Guy, Fabreezio, Owner Guy, Carl 1, Carl 2, Claudio 1...

As homesick as I am, I'm wary about leaving my nomadic life.

I am coming home in about a week and a half and I am nervous.

If you're wondering why I always get new blogs, well, the reason is as follows: as the seasons change, so do the blogs of my life. It's cathartic for me, like the shedding of old skin, or the purging of old clothes. You know what I mean? I feel like times are changing and this is where I'm at now. I'm in the mood to cater my blog colors to the upcoming holiday season, yah, santa! I'm in the mood to write whatever I want, whenever I want. I guess maybe it's not just a mood thing, it's more of a lifestyle decision. I want to be me, and I want you to know me.

So here I am.