It’s the day I didn’t want to come.
We have our last class. It is basically wrapping things up. Tate talks about bringing it back to the States. There is nothing bittersweet about it. No one says anything, and no one cries, but there is a mutual feeling of disappointment that the time has come to say goodbye.
We are all dressed in black today. It is a sort of inside joke; Gregor always dresses in black, and we are meeting with him today to go out to a house he has designed on the outskirts of town.
We take a bus out to the house. The bus drops us off in front of a fairly typical-looking house. We are all a little incredulous. Then we start walking, and finally we get to the house.
It looks like something out of Lost In Space. The first thing we do is walk out to the back to the dock on the lake adjoining the property and view the house from there. Gregor insists we see the house from the lake. After this, we go on a tour. We start with the guest house, which is constructed of wood. The scent of the wood alone is enough to make me want to move in.
Nathan and Jonathan on the deck outside the main house.
We go into the main house. It is full of nice little things, too hard to describe—but the way the closets are constructed, the way doors fit into walls, the incorporation of art into the spaces, a bathroom with two toilets (his and hers), a lift… it is such a remarkable living space. I try out the chairs in the dining area, one by one, Goldielocks-style. Then I break a chair. I just sit in it, I don’t really lean back, but pretty soon it’s split into two pieces and I’m right there on the floor with it. I’m not sure who the designer is; the other ones are Eames and other important ones. The owner of the house says he can fix it in the shop. I am mortified. After making sure I’m okay, everyone laughs. We all do, even Tate, even Gregor, even the owner of the house. I laugh, too.
We have a small reception in the dining area. Gregor talks. We ask him questions. Some of us present gifts for him—a CD, something Margaret made on the plane to Vienna. I remember the flight over, how nervous and excited I was, how innocent I seemed, how I couldn’t wait to meet everyone and hit the streets. I reflect on the past five weeks and what kind of person this trip has showed me that I can be.
We get back to the city, to our respective houses. Early in the evening, we meet up at the Institute one last time to go to a restaurant called Salm Brau. Over dinner, we exchange contact information, stories, laughs. We all do a great job of not acknowledging that tomorrow we will all be headed back to the States, wondering where the time went, if we had indeed ever left.
After dinner we say our goodbyes, and split up to say our goodbyes to the city in our own ways. I get on the tram one last time, waving goodbye, wondering when it is I will ever again experience such happiness.
In the morning, I bring my luggage to Kevan’s, where she, Holly and I are meeting the airport taxi. The ride to the airport begins with small talk, but subsides into a sort of daze, each of us studying our home for the past five weeks for the last time. Walking into the airport, I have yet to know how much I will miss this place.
The flight home is long. Michael, my sister’s boyfriend, picks me up at Dulles. I come home to an empty house, and exhausted, I go straight to bed. I can feel it setting in but I try so hard to resist it, the feeling of suburban life, of humidity and mugginess, of having to drive, of McDonald’s and Wal-Mart and luxury single family homes built on half-acre lots, of getting back to the grind, facing reality, getting a job and moving on. I am like a fish out of water now, and I must adapt. It is awful.
We have our last class. It is basically wrapping things up. Tate talks about bringing it back to the States. There is nothing bittersweet about it. No one says anything, and no one cries, but there is a mutual feeling of disappointment that the time has come to say goodbye.
We are all dressed in black today. It is a sort of inside joke; Gregor always dresses in black, and we are meeting with him today to go out to a house he has designed on the outskirts of town.
We take a bus out to the house. The bus drops us off in front of a fairly typical-looking house. We are all a little incredulous. Then we start walking, and finally we get to the house.
It looks like something out of Lost In Space. The first thing we do is walk out to the back to the dock on the lake adjoining the property and view the house from there. Gregor insists we see the house from the lake. After this, we go on a tour. We start with the guest house, which is constructed of wood. The scent of the wood alone is enough to make me want to move in.
Nathan and Jonathan on the deck outside the main house.
We go into the main house. It is full of nice little things, too hard to describe—but the way the closets are constructed, the way doors fit into walls, the incorporation of art into the spaces, a bathroom with two toilets (his and hers), a lift… it is such a remarkable living space. I try out the chairs in the dining area, one by one, Goldielocks-style. Then I break a chair. I just sit in it, I don’t really lean back, but pretty soon it’s split into two pieces and I’m right there on the floor with it. I’m not sure who the designer is; the other ones are Eames and other important ones. The owner of the house says he can fix it in the shop. I am mortified. After making sure I’m okay, everyone laughs. We all do, even Tate, even Gregor, even the owner of the house. I laugh, too.
We have a small reception in the dining area. Gregor talks. We ask him questions. Some of us present gifts for him—a CD, something Margaret made on the plane to Vienna. I remember the flight over, how nervous and excited I was, how innocent I seemed, how I couldn’t wait to meet everyone and hit the streets. I reflect on the past five weeks and what kind of person this trip has showed me that I can be.
We get back to the city, to our respective houses. Early in the evening, we meet up at the Institute one last time to go to a restaurant called Salm Brau. Over dinner, we exchange contact information, stories, laughs. We all do a great job of not acknowledging that tomorrow we will all be headed back to the States, wondering where the time went, if we had indeed ever left.
After dinner we say our goodbyes, and split up to say our goodbyes to the city in our own ways. I get on the tram one last time, waving goodbye, wondering when it is I will ever again experience such happiness.
In the morning, I bring my luggage to Kevan’s, where she, Holly and I are meeting the airport taxi. The ride to the airport begins with small talk, but subsides into a sort of daze, each of us studying our home for the past five weeks for the last time. Walking into the airport, I have yet to know how much I will miss this place.
The flight home is long. Michael, my sister’s boyfriend, picks me up at Dulles. I come home to an empty house, and exhausted, I go straight to bed. I can feel it setting in but I try so hard to resist it, the feeling of suburban life, of humidity and mugginess, of having to drive, of McDonald’s and Wal-Mart and luxury single family homes built on half-acre lots, of getting back to the grind, facing reality, getting a job and moving on. I am like a fish out of water now, and I must adapt. It is awful.
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