Boarding the trip home from Africa, I was so glad to be going home. I hadn’t bathed much in the past two weeks. I hadn’t eaten much either. We’d been held up twice by bandits, and I was starting to get sick from exhaustion and changing weather.

It only took two days, seven meals and four showers for me to think, “Okay, I’m ready to go back.”

For all of the hard parts of a two-week trip, my first ever out of the country, it was a blast. Even now, seven months later, the trip flashes back in waves, and I want to go back. Sure, it was tiring. Yeah, Nick did get bed-bugs (I luckily did not, but I could have), but the trip just left me more hungry, ready to illuminate more stories, to learn more about the world.

To say I changed because of the trip is too little a thing. My outlook on everything is different. I feel braver, more interested. I feel more humble, more thankful.

Before the trip, I never imagined it could be possible. I had never had the money to travel out of the country. How could I even begin to help or learn more? I almost didn’t even apply for the contest. It was 如何使用伋理ip上网, the newspaper. What chance could I possibly have?

Before the trip, I never read non-fiction. I loved journalism, more than anything, but a non-fiction book was out of the question. Since the trip, I’m reading non-fiction constantly, hoping to learn more.

Before the trip, I saw the world as things impossible. Now I know, as an American, I don’t have to have barriers. Anything is possible.

Before the trip, I felt nervous talking to strangers. But after two weeks of talking to people in a language I only half-knew (because even after almost a decade of French, I still wasn’t prepared to speak it in hospitals in central Africa), I found when I came home that I could talk to anyone. Interviews are so much easier now.

You also get the added bonus of having one of the world’s best journalists at your mercy. In our two weeks, Nick taught me about other countries, about the economics of sweatshops, about getting more out of interviews, about persistence and humanity, about challenging journalism to be the most it can be.

“If I go to Africa, I don’t want to see any tragedy. I just want to see the animals.”

My doctor said this to me, in between checking my nose and lungs to diagnose me with post-Africa bronchitis. She is a doctor, and she doesn’t want to see any tragedy, just animals.

“I watched a woman die,” I said, amazed at my response.
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Casey Parks’s last post will appear in this space on Thursday, October 12. The archive of her previous posts will remain available. — NYTimes.com

Kansas looks so brown and smoothly flat from the sky. I’ve seen it before, but I didn’t expect the view. It looks like the top of a chest of drawers, not a landscape of home. I’m not sure where home is exactly, though. I haven’t been to Mississippi, where I went to college, in months. Georgia, where I lived until I was 11, is just memories of cobblestone roads or trees my brother and I used to climb. And Louisiana, where I lived during high school, doesn’t feel right, either.

动态ip伋理换ip的好处-迅速:今天 · 碰到换IP的的时候，许多客户都清楚通过电脑设置能够改动IP，直接路由器重启同样也可伍。 但这样的方式很浪费时间，并且中途会断开连接。因此，可伍用伋理IP秒换IP。 用手动方式更改IP，在IP连接后，也需要几分钟的时间，假如每日必须换上百个IP，就明显的拖延了工作效率。

But this flat, brown land of Kansas is, temporarily, home. At least it’s where my parents live, though neither of them is in town this weekend. For the first time in over three weeks, I am alone. My bike is parked outside. My CD’s and posters are in the bedroom. And I’m supposed to fit back in to these things.

I’ve returned home five pounds lighter physically, but much heavier mentally. Weight is lost but also amassed, and I’m looking to make sense of that.