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Do Digital Nomads Have Homes?

by Joyce McGreevy on June 12, 2017

An apron with passport in a kitchen symbolizes the art of travel as a vagabond homebody, not just a digital nomad. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A recipe for domestic happiness?
© Joyce McGreevy

When the Art of Travel Is Domestic

“Do you ever get tired of being a digital nomad? You know, living out of a suitcase, never having a sense of home?” The art of travel would fray around the edges if that were so.

“Are you constantly managing logistics? Always on the move?” I get questions like these since decluttering and pulling up stakes to travel full time—while continuing to work full time.

Happily, none of those circumstances apply. Neither does another stereotype of full time travel.  As an online photo search shows, the stock image of the digital nomad is a Millennial with a Laptop at the Beach.

A beach at sunset in Maui evokes the art of travel as a digital nomad. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Who needs a laptop when you can monitor nature’s display?
© Joyce McGreevy

Surfing the Net?

Variations include stock images of the Millennial with a Laptop in a Hammock; silhouetted by a glowing monitor inside a tent; perched cross-legged, but still posting, from a promontory; or typing away at a tiki bar.

In this stock art of travel, the backdrop is always a beach. Because what could be better for a laptop—the equipment on which the digital nomad’s livelihood depends—than prolonged exposure to tanning oil, saltwater spray, and windblown grains of sand?

My day-to-day travel experience couldn’t be farther from that stock image. Let’s coin a new term, an alternative to “digital nomad.” Just call me a vagabond homebody.

Cutlery and napkins symbolize the domestic pleasures that make an art of travel as a vagabond homebody or digital nomad. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Chop wood, carry water, appreciate everyday household objects.
© Joyce McGreevy

Have Apron, Will Travel

On arrival in a new place, the first thing I unpack is my apron.

What little else I’ve brought takes moments to put away. Each empty drawer or closet, though it might seem alien to others, is to me as inviting as a hand extended in friendship. Once again, a little corner of the world has made room for me and that feels like a kind of miracle.

It will be a month, maybe two, before I need my suitcase again.

On the first morning, I check out farmers’ markets and meet local greengrocers. Then, as I begin using the kitchen—be it spacious and connected to a large garden, or merely a two-burner countertop in an urban studio—a sense of home comes over me.

A lamp-lit desk in a cozy Irish study evokes the art of travel as a digital nomad. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

I work in many countries, yet carry a sense of home from place to place.
© Joyce McGreevy

Home Travel Pleasures

Maybe it’s the fragrance of the herbs, the reflections in water drops that cling to leaves of lettuce. Maybe it’s the tactile and auditory pleasures: the satisfying push and thunk of the paring knife prepping rosy, golden, and green vegetables for an evening meal.

Maybe it’s the memories that play like background music for those of us who ponder as we cook.  Above all, it’s gratitude in the present moment.

Breads and charcuterie in Budapest symbolize the domestic pleasures that make an art of travel as a vagabond homebody or digital nomad. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Bringing home the bacon in Budapest.
© Joyce McGreevy

Out and About

Grounded by domestic ritual, I go out to explore, to learn, and above all, to connect with others:

  • To meet new people who inform and challenge me.
  • To stay in touch with colleagues, alumni, and friends who inspire me.
  • To reconnect with family, near and far. To be there for school plays, graduations, and weddings. For early-morning walks and late-night talks.

Because sometimes I travel to acclimate to a whole new culture, and sometimes I travel to rediscover the cultures that have shaped me.

Oh, I see: Travel can be a series of homecomings.

What About Work?

Keeping an ever-changing roof over my head requires that I work full time.

This, too, connects me to the everydayness of places.  It lets me learn how to use the library in Copenhagen, request printing services in Bulgaria, conduct research at a museum in Athens, or go for an after-work swim in Oslo.

My work centers on writing textbook content, everything from language arts and history to original plays and short stories.  This motivates to do something else I love: meet with students and teachers from all over the world.

 

A mother and child walking home in Valletta, Malta evoke the domestic pleasures that make an art of travel as a digital nomad. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

One little moment in Malta creates a sense of home.
© Joyce McGreevy

Our Global Neighborhood

Some neighbors I meet in my travels are new to me, some I’ve known all my life. Each one carries a piece of the world’s puzzle. People of all backgrounds, perspectives, and ages, including millennials. So far I’ve never met a Millennial with a Laptop at the Beach.

In many countries, cafés are for socializing, not filing reports or reading spreadsheets. I usually work from home, whether at a desk in Budapest, a kitchen table in Bend, or a cozy dorm room in Bloomsbury.  On those days, the travel pleasures are simple yet rich: the view of a park, the music of a local radio station, a quick jaunt to the nearest library, the wit of a favorite colleague as we confer online.

Family and friends gathering for a home-cooked dinner in Copenhagen evoke the domestic pleasures that make an art of travel as a digital nomad. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Sunday supper with my niece, Sydney Bevando, and her classmates in Copenhagen.
© Joyce McGreevy

A Traveling Compass

The countries, neighbors, and customs change. But when I wake up each morning, I always know exactly where I am: I’m home.

Even on airplanes, I’m at home. In-flight, I reflect on memories of my late father, a TWA pilot, and my late mother, whose home cooking reflected her love of travel.

At home in many cultures, Mom and Dad connected the art of travel with everyday domestic pleasures. They showed my siblings and me that a happy childhood is a home you can carry within you wherever you go. They taught us that everyone has a right to feel at home in this world.

No, there’s no need to call me a digital nomad. I’m really just a vagabond homebody.

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Best Trips: Zagreb

by Joyce McGreevy on May 22, 2017

The beautiful entrance of the Moderna Galerija in Croatia’s capital shows why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Zagreb’s details delight the eye.
© Joyce McGreevy

Lingering in Croatia’s Capital

Do your neighbors include dragons, Romantic poets, and the ghost of Nikolas Tesla?  If so, you must be in Zagreb—one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations.

Croatia’s capital is one of the best trips you can take without dreaming. A place where you exit a museum on a three-story slide, check the time by the noon cannon, and stroll through a traditional market that featured in a Jackie Chan movie.

Zagreb is not your average city.

Not average for Europe, or even Croatia. In a country the size of West Virginia, yet adorned by fantastical islands, parks, and villages, Zagreb is a singular sensation—a zany, zingy experience that specializes in zest for life.

St Mark’s Church in Croatia’s capital shows why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Often rebuilt and renovated during its 800 years, iconic St. Mark’s Church outlasted
fire, earthquake, war, and 18th century plans for demolition.
© Joyce McGreevy

Zigzagging to Zagreb

Many travelers bypass Croatia’s capital for Dubrovnik or Split. For others, it’s a layover. But you’ve opted to linger.  Never mind that you’ve been told you could easily do Zagreb in a day.

Superficially, that’s true, given Zagreb’s compact scale. No sooner do you set out from your elegant but affordable apartment than an avenue as broad and welcoming as a hug guides you into the heart of Ban Jelačić, the city’s central square. No GPS required.

Iconic blue trams glide by. The red umbrellas of the Dolac Market blossom like poppies. You are encircled by an architectural timeline of Zagreb’s tumultuous history:  its medieval emergence, its flowering under the Austro-Hungarian empire, the decadent charms of Art Nouveau.

The Dolac Market in Croatia’s capital shows why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © iStock/ paulprescott72)

“The Belly of Zagreb,” Dolac Market has been feeding locals and visitors since 1926.
© paulprescott72/ iStock

History at a Glance

The panorama from a nearby skyscraper fills in many gaps. You see Communist functionalism and the shimmer of new hotels, contrasts separated in time by the breakup of Yugoslavia, five years of bitter conflict with Serbia, and Croatia’s optimistic entry into the European Union.

Returning to street level, you still have time to wander the cobblestone streets of Gornji Grad (Upper Town) before first nightfall.

Yes, you could see Zagreb in a day—the same way you could see “all” of New York from Times Square or the Empire State Building.

But for one of the best trips, take your time. Because as Zagreb becomes more familiar, it also becomes more fascinating.

Oh, I see:  The longer you explore Zagreb, the more there is to discover.

The Botanic Garden in Croatia’s capital shows why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Hidden in plain sight, Zagreb’s 11-acre Botanic Garden is a downtown paradise.
© Joyce McGreevy

Here Comes the Sun

See that big bronze orb on Bogovićeva Street? Many tourists take selfies beside it, or alas, scratch their names on it. This is Ivan Kozaric’s 1971 sculpture, “The Grounded Sun.”

Fewer know that 30 years later, Davor Preis quietly placed nine models of planets around Zagreb to complete the solar system. He even stayed true to scale. “Earth,” for example, is ¾ of an inch in size and 4.78 miles away from Kozaric’s sun.

Ivan Kozaric's "The Grounded Sun" in Croatia’s capital shows why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

It’s always sunny on Bogovićeva street.
© Joyce McGreevy

Against All Odds

Likewise, photographers flock to Zagreb Cathedral. Some even step inside. If they lingered, they might learn something surprising.

Zagreb Cathedral in Croatia’s capital shows why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Zagreb Cathedral has a surprising connection to “Sin City.”
© Joyce McGreevy

High above centuries of artwork hang three massive chandeliers. Donated by Croatian American Stefan Stankić, those lights once illuminated the Gold Coast Casino in Las Vegas.

The story goes that when parishioners expressed concern about mixing the glitzy with the godly, a senior clergyman suggested they install the lights “temporarily.” Years later, that story is a testament to the miracle of a safe bet.

The interior of Zagreb Cathedral in Croatia’s capital shows why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

What happened in Zagreb stayed in Zagreb . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

Croatia’s Workplace Creatives

Zagreb invented many emblems of office life, including the necktie. In the 17th century, Croatian soldiers serving in France sported elegant red scarves. Fashion-conscious Parisians dubbed the accessory cravate, a corruption of Croate.

Zagreb made its mark in other ways, too.  The mechanical pencil and fountain pen are named for their Croatian inventor, Eduard Penkala.

A Guard of Honor of the Cravat Regiment inspired a fashion in Croatia's capital, Zagreb, one of Europe's most underrated travel destination. (Image © The Zagreb Tourist Board/ Marko Vrdoljak)

From officer’s cravat to office staple: Honor Guards
of the Cravat Regiment started a trend.
© The Zagreb Tourist Board/ Marko Vrdoljak

Croatian Coffee Culture

Don’t look to Zagrebians for workplace efficiency in coffee culture. Croatians pity us Americans as we rush along toting our outsized paper cups, or isolate ourselves in public behind the barriers of our laptops.

In Zagreb, coffee is about social connection and savoring time.  Allow 2-3 hours per cup and Never sip alone are the unspoken rules.

On Saturdays coffee culture is elevated to a social ritual known as Špica. You dress fashionably to do your errands, then meet your friends and hold court, choosing from hundreds of cafés. Some streets, like Tkalčićeva, are almost entirely comprised of cafés, each one a buzzing hive of conversation.

The cafés of Tkalčićeva Street in Croatia’s capital show why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © csfotoimages/ iStock)

Tkalčićeva, like many streets in Zagreb, is lined with cafés.
© csfotoimages/ iStock

Statuary Citizens

Watching over these proceedings are the statuary citizens of Zagreb, so numerous they’ve got their own walking tours. Dragons, lions, and gargoyles abound, enough stone animals to rival the city’s zoo.

There’s even a tribute to a stray dog.  Adopted by a construction crew in 1897, “Pluto” died defending the site from thieves. Workers were so grief-stricken they commissioned a memorial. Hidden in a private courtyard for over a century, the plaque was moved to a central location in 2013.

A moving memorial to a stray dog is beloved in in pet-friendly Zagreb, one of Europe's most underrated travel destinations. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Architect Josip Vancaš’ memorial to a stray dog is beloved in Zagreb,
where pets are welcome in many establishments.
© Joyce McGreevy

Then there’s Nikola Tesla. Born during a Croatian electrical storm, the “Inventor of the Electrical Age” brought alternating current to the world. Tesla also conceptualized—in 1901—what eventually became the smartphone.

Tesla’s spirit lives on as a secular patron saint of Zagreb’s intellectualism. You encounter his likeness throughout the city.

Ivan Meštrović's statue of Nikola Tesla in Croatia’s capital shows why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © Sergio Delle Vedove/ iStock)

“Meeting you has been a burning desire of mine ,” wrote Tesla to artist Ivan Meštrović
in 1924. Croatia’s greatest scientist & most celebrated sculptor became friends for life.
© Sergio Delle Vedove/ iStock

Every bookstore has a Tesla section. (Oh yes, in a city of free wifi, bookstores remain popular.) There’s also a technology museum named for Tesla.

Zagreb in Miniature

Speaking of museums, compact Zagreb boasts 37 of them. Mycology fans cluster in the Mushroom Museum. Kids walk upside down at the Museum of Illusions. There’s even something for the lovelorn, the Museum of Broken Relationships. Launched in Zagreb, it has added an outpost in Los Angeles.

The honor of most lovable  museum goes to the Backo Mini Express, tucked away on Gundulićeva Street. Painstakingly created by model train enthusiasts, it is best seen after you explore the city. That way you’ll experience a sudden thrill of recognition—the modelers have re-created Zagreb locations in miniature.

A model railroad at Backo Mini Express in Croatia’s capital shows why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Backo Mini Express is the biggest model railway in southeast Europe.
© Joyce McGreevy

Never  Long Enough

Yet even in miniature, Zagreb defies the mind’s ability to take it all in. Yes, you could “do” Zagreb in a day, but a lifetime would never be enough.

August Šenoa, lover of all things Zagrebian, knew this all too well. Shortly before the Romantic poet and novelist passed away, he declared, “But I have so much more to write!” Leaving Zagreb on a Saturday morning as locals gather in cafés, you understand how Šenoa felt.

Because Zagreb—one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations—is not your average city.

A statue of poet August Senoa in Croatia’s capital shows why one of the best trips you can take is in one of Europe’s most underrated travel destinations, Zagreb. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Portrayed standing nonchalantly on the street where he was born,
August Šenoa is credited with inspiring Croatians’ love of reading.
© Joyce McGreevy

Ride the slide at Zagreb’s Museum of Contemporary Art, here

Relive Jackie Chan’s 1987 “tour” of Zagreb, here

See Zagreb’s Backo Mini Express, here

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Idyllic, Yet Never Idle

by Joyce McGreevy on April 3, 2017

The Chora, the original capital of Serifos inspires wanderlust to visit this tiny Greek island in the Cyclades. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Parts of the original Chora, the hilltop capital of Serifos, date back to 3 BCE.
© Joyce McGreevy

When Wanderlust Leads to Serifos

I’m on Serifos—and the side effects are wonderful. What sounds like a lyrical Big-Pharma trade name is actually a tiny Greek island, part of the Cyclades southeast of mainland Greece. Wanderlust has led me here. Around 225 of Greece’s 6,000 islands are inhabited. Their populations quadruple with tourists every summer.

But I’m traveling in January to the bafflement of friends. Why Serifos? Why now? One high-powered chum tells me, “Wait till summer, go to Hydra, Mykonos, or Santorini. There’s a fantastic party scene and I’ll introduce you to a TON of contacts.”

And there’s your answer, folks. Because I don’t want to do “the scene,” exchange business cards over cocktails, sign up for “kick-ass Pilates classes,” have my aura read, my spine realigned, or my roots touched up.

I want to just be.

A boat in the harbor at Serifos symbolizes the author's wanderlust to visit this tiny Greek island in the Cyclades. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Serifos in winter: I saw more traffic in the water than on the road.
© Joyce McGreevy

“The Journey Is the Thing”—Homer’s Odyssey

A crewman on the ferry at Serifos makes work into art on a tiny Greek island in the Cyclades. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Ferryside Theatre?
© Joyce McGreevy

I make the five-hour journey by ferry from Piraeus, Athens’ main port, to the Cyclades with laptop in tow. The plan is to divide my time between meeting deadlines and exploring the 30-mile square island.

As the ferry nudges the shore, crewmen stride the descending ramp, nimbly riding its metal edge to the pier and tossing the ropes. Inky night and the Aegean Sea surround us. The darkness is deep, the stars spectacular.

Christos, my host, is there to greet me. His family has traveled from Thessaloniki to make ready what will be my home for the next month.

The house is newly built but traditionally designed, gleaming white with blue trim. Inside, stone walls have been sculpted into counters, shelves, and bedside tables.

On a rain-swept winter’s night, this is heaven. As I unpack, there’s a knock at the door: Athina, Christos’ mother, brings supper on a tray. It’s a good omen when the namesake of the Goddess of Wisdom visits.

A house on the tiny Greek island of Serifos in the Cyclades evokes both wanderlust and a sense of home. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In tiny Serifos, Christos’ Seaview Modern needs no address, its road no name.
Mail sent to “American lady who talks to cats” would have reached me.
© Joyce McGreevy

Mythology and the Everyday Epic

I settle into pleasant routine, dividing my day between work, walks, and classes. The classes are online: Greek history, language, mythology. According to myth, wing-footed Perseus washed up on Serifos as a baby locked in a wooden chest. Years later, the island’s king sent him on a suicide mission to slay the Medusa. But Perseus returned, using Medusa’s head to turn the king—and Serifos—into stone.

As I gaze up at the commanding heights of stone peaks, the presence of Perseus and other immortals seems completely plausible. In this setting, it’s thrilling to read Homer’s Odyssey, as the hero’s longing for home plays tug-of-war with wanderlust. I read, then head off on rambles of my own.

Hikers on a stone path in Serifos understand the wanderlust to visit this tiny Greek island in the Cyclades. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Springtime in Serifos: a walk with Athina and Aleka.
© Joyce McGreevy

Oh, I see: On an island, everyday moments become epic:

  • Skirting seasonal ponds by navigating through neighbors’ gardens, a delightful workaround
  • Savoring the only sound at night, the whispering of the sea
  • Witnessing the gradual approach of spring, like a ship on the horizon, as tender grasses and wildflowers re-emerge and trees become “birdful” again.
A garden on the tiny Greek island of Serifos in the Cyclades invites those with wanderlust to wander through. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

On Serifos, a rain-blocked road is an opportunity, not an obstacle. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Low-tech in Paradise

When Homer’s Odyssey takes our hero to Scheria, he finds a magical land with self-steering ships and self-harvesting crops, yet women still do laundry by hand. On Serifos in the off-season, I have superfast wifi, but my washing machine is a bucket. When I ask a local what time the town’s laundromat opens, she replies Aprílios—“April.”

Christos offers to have someone do my laundry, but neither I nor my minimalist wardrobe warrant the fuss. Better to take a leaf from the Scherian women. Hanging laundry outside becomes my favorite ritual, a meditation on the elements—sea, sky, sun, and the mineral richness that speckles this green and rocky earth.

Laundry on a patio in Serifos, a tiny Greek island in the Cyclades, evokes the simple pleasures that come from wanderlust. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

You won’t find this at a laundromat.
© Joyce McGreevy

No Stereotypes on Serifos

The winter population of Serifos hovers around 1,200, excluding small herds of friendly cats. The people are friendly, too, infinitely patient with my child’s-level Greek. I study every evening before bed, letting the words percolate into my dreams. As Homer’s Odyssey says, “There is a time for many words, there is also a time for sleep.”

A leaping cat in Serifos, a tiny Greek island in the Cyclades, shows that wanderlust isn't limited to humans. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The colors of sea & sky, sand & stone are everywhere on Serifos.
© Joyce McGreevy

Sigá-sigá (“step by step”), says Christina, a local shopkeeper. She, Athina, and others help me gather a living glossary from this small, rich universe—words for sky and clouds, wildflowers and windmills, honey and olive oil. At one taverna, the staff is fluent in English yet take the time to coach me in Greek. The syllables taste as satisfying in the mouth as the exquisite roast chickpea soup with garlic and oregano.

A bowl of revithia, or chickpeas soup, in the tiny Greek island of Serifos in the Cyclades, is one of the rewards of wanderlust. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Revithia sto fourno, a traditional Greek soup made with roasted
chickpeas, oregano, lemon, olive oil—and magic.
© Joyce McGreevy

If this were a movie, Hollywood would reinvent the locals as a Colorful Cast of Loveable Eccentrics. But quaint stereotypes don’t match the reality. People of Serifos travel the world, access 24-hour news, work at a range of professions. Among these thoughtful and serious-minded people, the only oddball I know of is myself.

A well-stocked shop in Serifos shows that even a tiny Greek island in the Cyclades, can satisfy any appetite, including wanderlust. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Think you can’t find gluten-free or other speciality foods in
the hilltop village of a tiny island? Guess again.
© Joyce McGreevy

McGreevy’s Odyssey

One night there’s true misadventure. Whatever gods I’ve inadvertently offended exact revenge on my laptop. Suddenly, I’m not so complacent. Up against deadline, I have two choices:

  • travel all the way back to Athens, hastily book a room, sort out the laptop, invest in a second one for backup (the cost of doing business while traveling full time), and meet that deadline with minutes to spare; or
  • curse my fate. As Homer’s Odyssey says, “These mortals are so quick to blame the gods.”

I opt for the journey.

“To Long for the Sight of Home”—Homer’s Odyssey

A ferry pulling into Serifos, a tiny Greek island in the Cyclades, symbolizes the tug-of-war between wanderlust and love of home. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Back in port.
© Joyce McGreevy

When I return to  the Cyclades, my sea legs are steady but my land legs not so much. Disembarking, I walk a few paces, then stumble. Immediately, arms reach out to lift me up. There are no strangers on Serifos, only neighbors.

Next morning, as I hang the laundry, the scent of wild rosemary and the thrum of hedgerow bees deliver a message to my senses—spring has landed! Soon it will be Kathari Deftera (“Clean Monday”), a day when children fly kites, bakeries offer unleavened lagana bread, and festivities mark the eve of Lent.

Lagana, a traditional bread found on many a tiny Greek island in the Cyclades, is tasty enough to inspire wanderlust. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Lagana bread: The name, which is also the origin of the
word lasagna, comes from a Greco-Roman pastry dough.
© Joyce McGreevy

Settling into work, I switch on the new laptop. The QWERTY keyboard includes a few Cyrillic letters. Since my software is set for American English, it makes no difference on a practical level, but on a heart level it means something that fills me with joy.

Then it hits me: wanderlust has led full circle. I feel at home on a tiny Greek island in the Cyclades. As Homer said, “Even a fool learns something once it hits him.” Dear Christos, I type, I’d like to stay on Serifos for another month.

A cat, Chora steps, and a weathered urn on Serifos, a tiny Greek island in the Cyclades, create the kind of tableau that inspires wanderlust. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Whether you’ve got nine lives or just one,
Serifos is a good place to be.
© Joyce McGreevy

Access superb online courses in Greek Mythology (University of Pennsylvania) here and
Ancient Greek History (Wesleyan University) here.

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