Home?

Location: Maple Grove Road, Mohnton, Pennsylvania
Date: May 27, 2010

I'm home, or back in the states at least. I guess I've learned, that like the book I read when I was little about hermit crabs changing shells, and essentially changing "homes," I can find my home all over the world. I found a bit of home in the Incan lands of Peru, as I frequented the local bakery and caught up on conversation with the children playing in the plaza...I found myself at home in frozen lands of Kosovo, as I was invited indoors for cup after cup of coffee by the teachers at the school...I found myself at home in the mystical beauty of Istanbul, standing barefoot on the carpeted floors of the Little Ayasophia mosque...I found myself at home on the unpaved roads of Lao, as I whizzed by yet another water buffalo. For so many months, my backpack was my house, and the land was my home. I carried all of my possession from one location to the next, everything so meticulously packed that I could go blindly through the pack and find whatever it was I was looking for. Over the months, I created for myself a routine and made it so that certain things in my life were consistent. My body knew that it was time to sleep when I got on an overnight bus, it knew to search for shade on a hot day, knew to find the nearest cup of coffee when feeling sleepy. Certain automatics became part of my daily life- the search of toilet paper and water safe to drink, the nightly patrol for bed bugs, the organization and placement of each item in my small backpack...these things I never had to think about- there was a sort of rhythm to these actions that I never second guessed, I would find myself packed, with toilet paper and water on hand, and with as few bedbug bites as possible. Each night the sounds changed- sometimes it was the buzzing of mosquitos outside of the net, or the scurrying of rats under the bungalow, sometimes it was the heavy fall of rain as the wet season set in, or the moos of cows and explosion of fireworks on the streets of Delhi....I got used to playing with these sounds, listening to them, deciphering them, and seeing if I could figure out which sound would come next. Knowing the meanings of the sounds would be a comfort, and it was one more little way of making my surroundings feel like more of my own.

Upon my return, all I could think to myself was, "How lucky was I to go on this trip!!!! How lucky!" Over and over, this became a mantra in my mind as I changed planes and slowly began to think about my descent home. Rather than dwell on the fact that this amazing adventure has come to a close, I had decided to cherish every bit of it and remember how fortunate I had been to have gone. (And start planning my next adventure, of course!).

Home feels nice. My dad and stepmom picked me up at the local bus terminal (I had taken a bus from NYC to Reading), and I got in the car, exhausted, with a huge smile on my face. I have to admit that it still felt like a foreign place to me- having moved out of Reading to Seattle, I no longer assimilate the city with my hometown, but there remained the sense of familiarity. Sleeping in my bed that night was a very satisfying event, and I woke the next morning feeling refreshed, alive, and starving.

So, here I sit, gazing upon the green vibrance of Pennsylvania farmland, with my fruit shake in hand. No, the berries were frozen and the milk was out of a carton, but it was tasty. As I look forward to the next few months- my return to Seattle, moving in to a new place, and hopefully securing a great teaching job, I am filled with excitement and hope. Yes, I had to say goodbye to tropical lands and speed racing tuk tuks, but I get to bring all of those memories with me, and they are much lighter than my backpack.

Thanks to everyone for all of your support throughout my trip. Friends and family have helped make my coming home an easy transition and I can't imagine what my trip would have been like without you. Lots of love and gracias por todo :)

Ali