The Ugly American, Part Dos

This is less about cultural gaffes than it is about confronting the uglier side of yourself exposed by traveling, relationships, traveling in a relationship?  It´s hard to say.  All I know is that in the last 4 days, I´ve had 2 full-on tantrums.  Bursting into tears, hurling myself onto my bed, and burying my face in the pillows.  Apparently, this is how the-ever-poised-Redstar blows off steam.  I´ve known for a long time about myself that my tears typically are delayed in tough situations.  For instance, when a friend of my Deis girls freshman year died unexpectedly, I was there for them and cried much later, in private, to my boyfriend at the time.  Last week, as we narrowly avoided being mugged in Valparaiso, my immediately feeling after the incident was one of exhilaration.  How cool!  We almost got mugged!  A total natural high from the fright of it.  Only much later, after a very very long day for the M.A.S. of trying to shake off the incident, make the best of the city, and drive a couple hours back to Santiago, did I finally lose it.  That night.  Rushing out of our hotel´s cafe to sob on the bed.  The other half of the M.A.S. was understandably tortured by his girlfriend´s tortured antics. 

But then yesterday, around 6am, when my luggage still hadn´t arrived, the same outburst occurred.  I was crying before I even hit the reception desk to inquire about my bag, and the M.A.S. was woken up 20 minutes later by my heaving flop onto the bed, my feet up by his head and my own face buried under pillows at the foot.  Good morning.

Of course, the reason I can blog about this now is because my luggage showed up last night, and we had a great day of seeing some of the inexplicable downtown of Recife (I´m working on trying to put it into words), some quality pool time, and an amazing seafood dinner last night.  So there is hope yet for this trip!  And our relationship endures.  But I´m more than a little mortified about my behavior, whether it´s understandable or not.  31 year old temper tantrums.  I suppose I have more in common with my friends raising young children than I thought!


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