A note on being back (July 6, 2008)

I am confident returning to one’s own country after a long trip is much harder than leaving it and adventuring to a foreign land. Things never look the same. People seem a little different. Normal is now odd. The pace of life seems off. Average is too big, too slow. All you thought you understood now comes under question.
- Why do people here seem so stressed-out and unhappy?
- Why is every meal so big?
- Why isn’t there a better train system?
- Why are cars so big and slow?
- Why do people have big front yards they never use?

And my hearing is hyper-sensitive. In crowded restaurants, I cant help but overhear ten distinct conversations in English (plus a few in Spanish), perhaps like a dog must feel when they encounter a park full of new smells. It’s overwhelming and alarming. And interesting. I catch myself just staring at people a lot. And eavesdropping.

I keep trying to make sense of the world, of all I learned and saw and the differences among cultures and countries and societies and ways of life. But I cant figure it out. Maybe there’s no easy answer.

But for all my frustrations with this country, there are some great things, too. Like how diverse it is (especially on the West Coast). In this one country I can walk down the street and see faces from Mexico, Cambodia and China. I can eat Thai food with Thai waiters, I can get my nails done in an all-Vietnamese salon, and I can buy Indian clothes from an Indian Saree store. And everyone seems to get along (for the most part), which is pretty amazing.

And there is beautiful nature here. The Pacific ocean is breathtaking. And all the green and trees and plants in the Northwest. And soon I’ll see my beloved Rockies again. In the wide open spaces. Space is a nice thing.