Today marks a final chapter in our trip. Today is the day our last anti-malarial pills are taken, 4 weeks after leaving an at risk area. Two weeks, 4 days since returning back home. Knowing there is no more of those nasty little pills is wonderful and yet it is another reminder, pulling me back to reality, that yes, we are back in the States. The return home has been abrupt and not what I was anticipating. I guess I didn't really know what to anticipate though. Only assumptions that life will go back to the way it was. But after a trip like we have had, that is exactly what I don't want.
Although I had moments of looking forward to re-establishing our home and life in Portland. To having one place to return to every night. I am now struggling to make home--home. I have been unable to make myself unpack our boxes. I still pull clothes out of bags on the floor. Do I know what is in one box over another? Do I really care? Do I need what's in the box? We returned to the same apartment we left, having subleased it furnished while we were away, so it is perfectly ok to live in daily. All our personal items packed away in storage. We each lived out of one bag for 4 months. And while, yes, it is nice to not be wearing one of two/three outfits everyday, I struggle with ambition to settle back in.
I have only just now washed some items from the trip, covered in dirt. Probably mostly still left from the transportation methods in Laos. I feel it was a release as the grit was washed away. Am I that sad to have returned that I hate to wash away grim? Oh, but I can be joyful in knowing that I can now wear some of the clothes that were bought overseas.
After 4 months of people watching, glimpses into different cultures, I can only return home with the same habits of just watching and soaking it all in. Funny the things you notice about your own culture when you've been removed for a set amount of time. And returning to Portland, a unique sub-culture in itself, the transition is even more odd. I am surprised at myself. I am surprised at not being excited about things I thought I would be. I am shocked at what does spark my intrigue. I am scared also. I fear that 4 months was enough time to realize what you want to change, and yet maybe not enough time to instill new habits for those changes. Everything from grand scale character building, to simple things as food and what colors I like.
I can walk in our neighborhood and cars actually stop for pedestrians in crosswalks, and sometimes not even at those. Traffic laws are obeyed. Strangers smile and say hello in a language I understand. Better yet, I understand the conversations going on around me. I got used to it all just being a constant hum. While in the Asian market stocking up on some of our old and new staples, I hear a foreign language being used in a conversation down the aisle. I am confused. It isn't English, and yet, why am I understanding some of it, and why does it sound so familiar? I chuckle as it hits me. Spanish. Oh yeah, that language and culture. One I have been SO far removed from and yet also with all it's nuances of uniqueness just the same. Somewhere on our trip, I don't remember the particularities right now, a Mexican restaurant we walked by boasted being the only Mexican in all of the country. Can it be that good then, you have to ask yourself?
I remember my impression of life in the city here in the US was deeply rooted in everyone living their own lives, separately from everyone else. Each like little beavers. Going about their missions without so much of a regard for their neighbor. But community is so important. Where has this value gone? Our trip re-instilled some of this in me. I am shocked when I walk here of the that fact there really are some people out there willing to reach out. People do say hi on the street here. Was this happening before and I just didn't hear/see it? I guess sometimes, you do really get what you give. Why be disappointed in the way things are when you can set a better standard that others try to rise too (or lower, whatever the circumstance). I should let more people in.
In Laos, so many people, mostly kids, but either way, the impression was made, so many people said hello in the local language. Such a happy word too, Sabadee. The sound brought such joy to our day and what joy I think it brought in return when we responded the sentiment. I should say hello more at home.
Sitting at a red light in my truck, coming home from work (yes, I am back at work--that's a whole grander scale of 'back to reality'), a public bus making a right turn from the cross street to the left of me. I am in a daze, like most of the time lately, watching the driver make his turn. Thinking about who knows what, and I noticed the driver waving and smiling--big. Am I doing something wrong? Red light still, check. No peds in the way, check. Correct lane, check. Right way down a one way street, check. Quick look in the rearview mirror, check. Am I too far forward for the bus to make it's turn? No. Do I know him? No. I look again, all a matter of seconds. Still waving and gleaming. I flash a smile in return. His smile even bigger. Huh, I thought. A smile for a smile. Such a simple joy. Did I look that horrible day dreaming of places so far away that used to be so close not so long ago? I should smile more.
Portlanders out enjoying the first signs of spring, mostly the sun. Even though I knew one of the big perks of traveling in the winter is that we missed out on the Portland winter gloom, I am amazed at how much Portlanders yearn for that sun. A Saturday out in a park, everyone soaking in the sun while I try to catch my breath from everything coming so fast now. Everything is a matter of perspective. Portland's first 70º days, everyone is out in sundresses, shorts, tank tops, and here I am in my jeans and sweatshirt. Funny. Ok, I eventually strip down to my t-shirt. It warms up a bit when you just soak it in.
Even the fact of people soaking in sun is so unique. In Asia, the sun was avoided like a black plaque. 90º out and women would still be covered head to toe. Got to protect that precious skin. Here, 70º and women are out in bathing suits getting a jump start on their summer tans. Now I admit, I do love that sun. Not so much what it does to the skin, but I do enjoy the warmth and the light. Having lived downtown for two years now, the sun has come to represent a freedom in a sense. When I am in it, I am not in the shadows of a building or truck. I've got a direct line of sight to the sky.
The return to the supermarket was a saddening thing. Especially for Eric. You can shop the organic sections. You can go to the local farmer's markets, but it will never be the same. The broad range of ingredient selection and the remarkable freshness at that, just doesn't exist here. Not even mentioning cost. Who says fresh and local has to be more expensive? I guess we should be happy we live (for now at least) in a part of the US where local is supported, allowing more options to exist, comparetively. And to live where such fertile land and rains bring a diversity in the fresh produce offered.
I feel I am coming down from a 4 month high way too quickly. I am not finding the time for reflection I now realize I need. I feel I am being yanked back, made to simulate into the day to day. And it leaves me soo tired, leaving no energy for myself. Choosing to return to work 6 days after returning from our trip afforded us more time on the road, but not enough time to level my head. I can fill my role here as I knew it before we left just fine. The matter at hand? Is that a role I really want to fulfill? But I guess, when are we ever ready to return? The big question I ask myself now is, why do we have to return? Why do we have to simulate? What part of me is making me feel like we should? It's easy. It works. But does it truly bring happiness? And is it truly what I want? What do I want? What do I want out of life and how will I get it? An answer I am not going to find here in the day to day I am afraid.
Within a week of returning, I found myself volunteering at a benefit event. Details of it don't really matter. But as it was a benefit, this means the people invited, well, let's just say it was an older crowd that wasn't strapped for cash. I was just happy to be there, happy for what I got out of the deal of volunteering, never mind the company per say. Then, I found myself in the midst of a conversation between the special guest, a big wig from DC and some attendees.
The attendees, so desperate for attention, and better yet recognition from the special guest, were acting so strange to me. The things they were saying, the elementary 'philosophical' insights of beauty, were absurd. Oh, let's not forget the subtle drops of the money in their pockets and how deep they were rooted in the 'creation' of Portland. The off handed jokes and chuckles from them. They never seemed to notice just how courteous the special guest was being, and nothing more. How he excepted their attempts at a friendly conversation, but somehow was never truly engaged. Didn't notice his steps backwards that they only pursued. I half wanted to gag and half laugh in their faces. I am half their age, and how so much richer I seem to be, when money isn't what you use to quantify. Who cares who this guy is? We should value ourselves, by ourselves, up against our own personal goals and ambitions, not by who somebody else. That's not to say of course, that every guest at this event was so far up their own ass. Some are lucky to have been graced with financial means and know how to maintain their social sanity.
We live in a culture of money and how can Eric and I step away from that? How can we insure our security of basic necessities, without being bogged down by the day to day of earning money to make that happen? I know that finding a right balance is an elemental part, for the both of us, and now step two is finding it. Right now, until we find it, I can only hold onto knowing how lucky we are to have experienced what we have together and how lucky we should feel to know that we have the luxury of tackling these questions. To know that we have them and to know that we want to go find answers is valuable in itself. A more simple way of life is in order I think, insights definitely gained from this trip. What anybody else thinks is irrelevant. I am who I am. We are who we are. Relish in it, just relish in it.
A big change is around the corner, if only I knew how long until we get there.
