Sitting at my familiar dining room table, at our comfortable home in Hawaii, I alter between clicking the battery icon at the top of my laptop screen, checking how much time remains on this faulty battery, and gazing out at the soothing, persistent rain on our lanai. I am waiting, waiting for the part of me that my friends, family, and virtual friends keep gently insisting should write a book, to show up. But only my melancholy, ill-adjusted, travel-blues-riddled self seems present. I remain sitting here alone. Yup, alone. Kiko is working and the kids are at their first organized activity since our return, 1/2 day tennis camp. That in itself is enough to send me whirling in a mix of high and low emotions after spending a year almost exclusively within an arms reach of each other.
It has been over a month, actually 40 days, since we have returned home. Whatever adjusting I had expected to happen should be all finished up by now. But if anything I feel it more intensely. Funny how a feeling can be so strong yet so difficult to aptly explain to someone else. A recurring , descriptive image keeps popping into my head and although inadequate, it seems to be the best way at the moment to convey my current feelings .....imagine a head and inside that head is everything witnessed over the past year, landscapes, people, food, sounds, monuments, smells, customs and they are all trying to find their place to settle in, but communication between these foreign bits and fragments is difficult at best, and there are a lot of pieces that just aren't able to fit along side others, but they each keep trying to get their points across, trying to find their place, in the big chaotic mess called my brain.
Believe me I know I sound like a little travel snot. I can hear that too, even through the muddle. "Oh, I just got back from traveling the world, to beautiful Hawaii, and I am so confused and depressed".... and spoiled. I know. But it doesn't make the adjusting any easier. Does it make it less annoying, if I acknowledge it myself?
Mixed in with all that is the fear of "loosing" all of last year experinces as we settle into a routine, that is astonishingly similar to that which we left last year. But when I take the time to look past the day-to-day and to think of actualities I realize that our travel experiences are forever part of us, an us that is so much stronger than it was before.
It has been over a month, actually 40 days, since we have returned home. Whatever adjusting I had expected to happen should be all finished up by now. But if anything I feel it more intensely. Funny how a feeling can be so strong yet so difficult to aptly explain to someone else. A recurring , descriptive image keeps popping into my head and although inadequate, it seems to be the best way at the moment to convey my current feelings .....imagine a head and inside that head is everything witnessed over the past year, landscapes, people, food, sounds, monuments, smells, customs and they are all trying to find their place to settle in, but communication between these foreign bits and fragments is difficult at best, and there are a lot of pieces that just aren't able to fit along side others, but they each keep trying to get their points across, trying to find their place, in the big chaotic mess called my brain.
Believe me I know I sound like a little travel snot. I can hear that too, even through the muddle. "Oh, I just got back from traveling the world, to beautiful Hawaii, and I am so confused and depressed".... and spoiled. I know. But it doesn't make the adjusting any easier. Does it make it less annoying, if I acknowledge it myself?
Mixed in with all that is the fear of "loosing" all of last year experinces as we settle into a routine, that is astonishingly similar to that which we left last year. But when I take the time to look past the day-to-day and to think of actualities I realize that our travel experiences are forever part of us, an us that is so much stronger than it was before.
I would have been shocked if someone would have told me before we left, "when you return from your trip you children will be so close that they will cry for each other when they start spending time apart." But that is exactly what happened. On one of the first days back in the States Yoda came home in a rush from a neighbor's house. When asked what happened he looked shocked and sad, tears started to flow. "I missed my sister, my best sister". I swear I am not making this up and he wasn't joking. The look of appreciation and understanding on Zuki's face when she heard her brother's words is something I will never forget. In turn, as they each went on sleepovers, the one left at home dramatically lamented the time apart. Of course I am not telling you that they always get along seamlessly, but there is a bond that has been formed over the countless hours they entertained each other, the times they stuck to together as they approached foreign children looking to make a new friend, and as they experienced so many new things together. I have witnessed their ability to exchange an simple look, conveying so many thoughts and feelings, excitement mixed with anxiousness, as they experienced things together that they never imagine existed. This bond is not something that will fade quickly. And this in itself is enough of a reward for this past year.
But as I sit here I realize we have gained even more. Hearing the kids tell their versions of our epic experiences actually makes the area where my heart is located warm. Witnessing the fresh eyes with which they literally "see" the cultural in which they have grown up as they draw comparisons to others they have experienced, makes me proud. Their real interest in foreign affairs, because they now have a personal connection, has changed the way they learn and will have a lasting impact throughout their lives. Somehow these moments of light, when I see "the big picture", help organize all those bits and pieces in my head and I find myself feeling less unsettled with this whole "settling back in" phase.
There is another descriptive image that kept persevering in my thoughts. This one has a more comical feel. It is that of our family of four crammed in a space ship, that old kind of 1960's style, red with flames painted on the side, coming in for a landing on the lush island of Kauai. The boys are out running about before Zuki and I even know we have landed. My daughter and I sit in the space ship with our hair blowing in the wind and our mouths open in awe, staring in bewildered confusion. And to be honest that is kinda how it was when we first got home.
But as I sit here I realize we have gained even more. Hearing the kids tell their versions of our epic experiences actually makes the area where my heart is located warm. Witnessing the fresh eyes with which they literally "see" the cultural in which they have grown up as they draw comparisons to others they have experienced, makes me proud. Their real interest in foreign affairs, because they now have a personal connection, has changed the way they learn and will have a lasting impact throughout their lives. Somehow these moments of light, when I see "the big picture", help organize all those bits and pieces in my head and I find myself feeling less unsettled with this whole "settling back in" phase.
There is another descriptive image that kept persevering in my thoughts. This one has a more comical feel. It is that of our family of four crammed in a space ship, that old kind of 1960's style, red with flames painted on the side, coming in for a landing on the lush island of Kauai. The boys are out running about before Zuki and I even know we have landed. My daughter and I sit in the space ship with our hair blowing in the wind and our mouths open in awe, staring in bewildered confusion. And to be honest that is kinda how it was when we first got home.
Artistic rendering of our re-entry by Zuki and me.
We are each such different individuals and even though we went through this year together we each process it and our return differently. Both boys, Yoda and my husband, seem to just want to dive right back in. Yoda to such an extent that I now realize his need to surround himself with friends and to have a daily "plan" of activities is his way of soothing his transition, filling his days with everything he missed from home. Zuki surprised me with how contemplative and philosophical she became the first few weeks upon our return, questioniing a lot, even to the extent of repeatedly inquiring about the nature of our very existence. Being surrounded by groups of people she knew pre-trip caused her to become very introspective and quite. We had many deep conversations, just the two of us, that made me simultaneously proud of my thoughtful daughter, questioning so much of the world at such a young age, and nervous as I wondered if this type of thinking might make it hard to fit in with her peers. Luckily, now 6 weeks in, she retains her new outlook on the world while reconnecting, one friend at a time.
It probably comes as no surprise that I wasn't ready for the trip to end. As our time was winding down in the Philippines the rest of the family was mostly excited to return home, see friends, unpack missed toys, have our kitchen again...there was a little anxiousness as far as what it would really be like to return, but the sentiment "Yeah, we are going home" prevailed. I dragged my feet, ho-hummed, somehow shocked that there was an end to our around-the-world-trip. I wasn't good at hiding it either.
Luckily at the last minute, the very last night, something changed and I genuinely began looking forward to going home. It just hit me like a frying pan. Zuki had been telling me for a few days how she often sees "signs" around her. When she thought of something, more often then not she was finding that the answer or something relevant would appear in a literal sign. (English advertising and signage is quite prevalent in the Philippines). It intrigued me. I was feeling so lost; I wanted a sign. I looked and looked; nothing seemed fitting to the questions that were whirling in my brain. Lucky kid. But turns out It might not be a sheer matter of luck but may boil down to the fact that I simple may not be as in-tune as she is. My signs had to be less cryptic. Just as I began to realize that the infected bug bite on my leg was pushing past the acceptable "it's going to be fine; lets just clean it" limit, as visions of me rolling through the next three airports in a wheel chair filled my head, my stomach started to do those all too familiar summersaults of traveler's belly. "Ok", I screamed in my head " I GIVE IN, I AM READY TO GO HOME!". And just like that my stomach problems receded and the antibiotics started kicking in on my pain-ridden leg...OK. I just needed more obvious signs to steer my brain to the appropriate frame of mind...home will be nice on a lot of levels.
It probably comes as no surprise that I wasn't ready for the trip to end. As our time was winding down in the Philippines the rest of the family was mostly excited to return home, see friends, unpack missed toys, have our kitchen again...there was a little anxiousness as far as what it would really be like to return, but the sentiment "Yeah, we are going home" prevailed. I dragged my feet, ho-hummed, somehow shocked that there was an end to our around-the-world-trip. I wasn't good at hiding it either.
Luckily at the last minute, the very last night, something changed and I genuinely began looking forward to going home. It just hit me like a frying pan. Zuki had been telling me for a few days how she often sees "signs" around her. When she thought of something, more often then not she was finding that the answer or something relevant would appear in a literal sign. (English advertising and signage is quite prevalent in the Philippines). It intrigued me. I was feeling so lost; I wanted a sign. I looked and looked; nothing seemed fitting to the questions that were whirling in my brain. Lucky kid. But turns out It might not be a sheer matter of luck but may boil down to the fact that I simple may not be as in-tune as she is. My signs had to be less cryptic. Just as I began to realize that the infected bug bite on my leg was pushing past the acceptable "it's going to be fine; lets just clean it" limit, as visions of me rolling through the next three airports in a wheel chair filled my head, my stomach started to do those all too familiar summersaults of traveler's belly. "Ok", I screamed in my head " I GIVE IN, I AM READY TO GO HOME!". And just like that my stomach problems receded and the antibiotics started kicking in on my pain-ridden leg...OK. I just needed more obvious signs to steer my brain to the appropriate frame of mind...home will be nice on a lot of levels.
Out in front of our last hotel before our journey home
Even with my change of heart about returning, once home I kept on with the idea of looking for signs, something to show me everything was going to be ok. One day we went down to a beautiful beach called Lumahai, which is quite renowned amongst locals as a place to find the rare and highly sought after kauai sunrise shells, endemic to Hawaii. To me they have always been a true manifestation of Hawaii life. Ok, I thought, I'll take a walk down the beach and find a sunrise, a sure sign of welcome from the island where I am suppose to be. So I walk, loving the solitude and the beauty of the North Shore. I reach the end of the beach and start my walk back, still thinking that a wave could bring up a sunrise at any moment,...right to my feet. But my dreamy mind was interrupted by an agitated girl in her twenties sitting cursing on the shore line. It's only me and her alone along an empty expanse of beach. Relieved how easy it is to converse when both people speak the same language, I simple ask, "Are you ok?" "I just stepped on a bee!" she retorted. Realizing she hasn't taken the stinger out, I ask if I can help and quickly scrape the stinger out and help calm her. Before I know it she tells me how stepping on a bee is just one of the bad things that has happened on this still young day. Her "friend" just stole her bag with all her belongings and her money to go buy drugs. She continues on about her gloomy situation when all of a sudden her face brightens with a wide smile and she says "But I found a sunrise shell...want to see it?" I feel the second frying pan hit me in my spoiled head as a smile and admire her newly found shell. Of course she needed that sunrise a lot more than I. Signs seems to come from the totally different direction then I am looking in.....
After talking a bit, I get up to continue to walk and she asks me where I am from, "cause you have a strange accent". A smile breaks out across my face as I reply, "I live here" and I remember the countless other times someone has said that same thing to me upon my return to the states. Somehow in my attempt to make conversation with people who speaks English as a second or third language easier, I often simplify my sentence structure drastically, "We go now," kinda thing and I guess it is not an easy habit to break.
And with that I am reminded that I have felt this way before. It actually has a name, "reverse culture shock." I know I need to give myself time and luckily I have it. We live on a beautiful island, where we live a life pretty darn close to dream-like, and we truly appreciate this. So for now I am indulging myself by blaring music that sings to me, "liking" quotes that speak to me, and simply allow there to be empty space to sort out all the foreign puzzle pieces in my brain. And slowly my sentence structure is returning.
After talking a bit, I get up to continue to walk and she asks me where I am from, "cause you have a strange accent". A smile breaks out across my face as I reply, "I live here" and I remember the countless other times someone has said that same thing to me upon my return to the states. Somehow in my attempt to make conversation with people who speaks English as a second or third language easier, I often simplify my sentence structure drastically, "We go now," kinda thing and I guess it is not an easy habit to break.
And with that I am reminded that I have felt this way before. It actually has a name, "reverse culture shock." I know I need to give myself time and luckily I have it. We live on a beautiful island, where we live a life pretty darn close to dream-like, and we truly appreciate this. So for now I am indulging myself by blaring music that sings to me, "liking" quotes that speak to me, and simply allow there to be empty space to sort out all the foreign puzzle pieces in my brain. And slowly my sentence structure is returning.
Note: This was written about 5 weeks ago and as expected piece by piece we are shaping our new life on the island. Kids have started school and seem well prepared for their respective grades and are weaving their world schooling with their public school assignments. All is well and I hope next month to dive back into South East Asia where I left off our story..
