It seems that whenever i am on an excursion to a foreign land, however long it may be, there are three stages.
1. shock--bewilderment--stupefaction--wonder--awe--glee--daydreaming about spending my life there
2. easing into the routine--feeling the effects of some kind of assimilation--getting used to being stared at by natives--starting to do all the things i thought i'd do in the beginning
3. jadedness sinking in--pining for the familiarity of home--feeling guilty for all the pining--feeling as though i really learned something--just starting to make real friends--daydreaming about the plane-ride home--thinking of how i'll feel all nostalgic after i return home
In Madagascar, all the others and i could talk about was what we'd eat when we got home. The detail of these discussions would have surprised even the most culinary-minded connoisseurs. We have yet to establish a running theme for talk of home here in Hakodate, nor actually talk much about it. It lies in the back of my mind, and knowing that i'll eventually return to a place of familiarity is reassuring. However, unlike Madagascar, i do not feel a deep and passionate longing to be on the plane home, instead a more mild and moderate satisfaction with the fact of returning itself. To know i am indeed from a land where nearly everyone speaks my language and has little trouble understanding me (well, the latter is a lie). I am not saying that my time in Madagascar was tortorous by any means, but the conditions were so different and trying that it made me long for the easy life, however selfish and typical of the spoiled spawn of an industrial nation a thought like that is. What doesn't kill me might really in fact make me stronger, or at least fill me up to bursting with memories that i'll feel the need to relate to others in an explosion akin to an erupting volcano. Prepare yourselves, my friends and family.
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4 comments:
longing to be home and knowing that eventually youll get there are obviously two different feelings. im glad to know youre comfy where you are, but home is home.
I haven't vacuumed the metric ton of cat litter and shed hair from the bedroom floor in three months so you can come back and instantly feel at home again.
I think a few months away tends to be your limit... it's good that you can look forward to going home, with I could say the same whenever I go back. (eh) AND... at least you're enjoying yourself now. (I just loved being enthralled in the pits of hell here in GA. :))
cynthia: i guess you're right. more than a few months feels like i'm in prison.
bruder: i can't wait for my everlasting sneezing fit. maybe i'll expel a lung or two this time around.
moochka: i can't agree more.
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