Today is my first full day alone in quite a while. I am in Wroclaw, Poland. I haven't found any other tourists, I was even alone in the hostel save one Polish girl, and the city seems to be alseep today.

My dad came last week and got to see Europe for the first time, probably the only time, in his life. With him, and the students, I went to Prague (yet again) and Krakow (also yet again). It was a trip full of surprises, most of which were difficult to deal with in a group of twelve, but some were fabulous. I've struggled to love, even like, many of the students. This trip was good for all of us. This is an excerpt from an email I just received:

"After this weekend, I felt really good, thanks to you of course :)
Seriously, I feel like I learned so much about me, you, and life in
general. I think most importantly, I feel like you love me and I
remember the conversation we had about you being forced to be in
situations where you have to learn to love people and I honestly
believe that in the group, I'm the hardest person to love, yet I feel
in my own personal way, you love me the most! And it feels so great to
have that. Even through the ups and downs we've had so far, you still
manage to show me respect and love and that for me is absolutely
amazing. I can't tell you the feeling I left with on Monday because
of you. I guess it shows me that I'm not all the bad after all :) So
thanks a bunch for just being great! You've made more of an impact on
my life than you can know :) Hope you're having fun traveling!"

It's funny. I feel as though I am constantly struggling to find meaning in my life. I want to feel like I'm making a difference in someone's life, anyone's life. For me, being in Vienna is like purgatory--not in a bad way-waiting to move on...hoping. I have Aimee and Lu, and they make being there worth it for me, not to mention the city and language and culture. But I feel like I'm not doing anything valuable. This last week reminded me that I am.

I was rewarded for taking the students and my dad on this trip with a week and a half of solo-travel time (although I am meeting up with a friend for a few days). Like I said, I am in Wroclaw now. I passed by a part of the sidewalk that was larger, almost like a circle. There sat several old woman one after the other, each selling goods. The first woman had hand-crocheted booties and socks for sell upon old cardboard boxes. So clearly she lived by her old, knarly hands. The next had a small selection of fresh produce, small enough to have come from her own garden. Across from these sat two more women, one selling herbs tied in string and the other flowers. Ten feet further sat a man, only his upper body propped on a wheelchair with no limbs dangling from it. I walked through these people and wanted so much to cry. I checked myself. Then I thought how much my mind forgets about reality when my eyes don't see it. These people don't line the touristed streets of Prague or Krakow, though I know they live in these cities. My lesson learned: that I might remember in my heart what I forget to see with my eyes.