It’s down to the wire. In a little over 9 hours I’ll be on a bus headed for O’Hare. Then it’s off to San Fran, as all the Nor Cal TBCer’s (The Beijing Center-ers) call it, and on to Beijing (12 hour flight!). I don’t anticipate sleeping tonight, or for the next 40 hours. I can’t wait to arrive in my dorm, spaced out of my head, and wake up for the first time in China. Jack just emailed me to say that he’s in Australia for the week. It’ll be nice to have the room to myself while I recover from jet-lag, but I was hoping to be greeted by his open arms, a pogo-stick in one hand and a rubber chicken in the other. I suppose that responsibility now falls to me.

Orientation is really interesting. All of our materials keep hinting at the fact that China is an absolute mad-house. I imagine opening the plane door will be similar to opening the kitchen door on the Muppet Babies, crazy Beijing bikers throwing Peking duck at my face while someone wacks a gong.

The goodbyes, which are always difficult, have been aided by a certain amount of emotional adrenaline. The past several weeks have been inordinately stressful, and it’s a relief to slowly put the bookends on Chicago. It’s a comfort to remember that it’ll be here when I get back, and I’ll be gone for considerably less time than before.

I’m going to go fill these last few hours with some cheap beer and maybe Chipotle (someone is going to have to air-mail me a chicken burrito, I can’t last 4 months).

And Caitlin, for the record, this blog template is totally not gay. Just pretend it’s being written on Heathcliff’s letterhead, or a Louis Vuitton purse, either one.