The worst part about traveling half way around the world is having to adjust my body's perception of time zones. The difference between Maine and Manila is exactly twelve hours. In other words: night and day. I returned to Portland, greeted by the rain, just like when I had left almost two weeks before. In a way, the farm also greeted my arrival, but with a giant pile of gravel in the front yard that I would have to carry in wheelbarrows to the other side of the barn later on in the week.
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