On returning to England

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Well we're back.

When I said I wasn't looking forward to coming back I was only telling a half truth. As someone who has only gotten out and stretched their wings once there were a few home comforts I missed about the nest - or at least realised I had done when sat with a plate of Fish and Chips on my knee, chatting with almost-family drinking much cheaper and better beer and watching crap telly. Martin on the otherhand who has had the taste of freedom more than once feels somewhat cooped up and I completely believe him when he says he hasn't missed a thing. When I was little I was always the one off away on Girl Guide camp, sleepovers and adventure weekends with school, but it's still nice to see family again.

On top of the fish and chips (as well as tomato sauce, mushy peas and salt and vinegar) it's the smell of cut grass after a rainstorm, the backbirds, a proper homecooked Sunday roast with all the trimmings and the look of wonder on my little brothers face when I presented him with a selection of exotic coinage I couldn't spend at the airport. I love giving presents and, for all it's quirks, I love England because I'm a helpless romantic (in the Blake-Keats-Wordsworth-et al kind of way. The non-romantic side of England like politics and the Inland Revenue can get stuffed)

At first I wanted to fight returning with a vengeance but instead I seem to have embraced it, although maybe at the cost of slipping too much back into the 'norm' too quickly. Already by the time we had touched down on the runway (only two weeks ago) Peru seemed a distant memory and very, very far away. Mary, you mentioned about 'living in two worlds' and that is just how to describe it. Right now I feel lost and unsure of what to do. Ideally I just want to sit around drinking tea and daydreaming but instead I find myself constantly getting up and washing the pots and throwing myself into preparations for University, desperate for it to start, despite the fact its 3 months away. All this to take my mind off the fact we're back by burying myself in the mundanity of it all in the hope that it will pass by. I feel as if I am fighting the need to...well...grieve...seems the best way of putting it.

Also it still hasn't hit (though I shouldn't be surprised) how nothing here has changed. At all.

I had this same feeling when I came back from an Archaeological dig and I met some really special people. Being older than I (who had just left school) and some of them 'mature' students really opened my eyes to a lot of new things and I felt I did a lot of growing up in those three weeks. I came back and felt displaced, couldn't eat and my teenage brain struggling to compute all these new ideas and opinions and events I had never really thought or known about before.

Perhaps that's what it is. Just as the body deals with trauma by going into shock, my mind is in a similar state - at 19 it's still not 'grown up' enough to comprehend all I have learned in the last three months and will only slowly process it somewhere in the background whilst the conscious is occupied with doing all the silly bits I have written down on a list as long as your arm i.e Take dog for walk, buy Martins birthday presents

When people ask how it was, all I can do is sigh dreamily and say 'amazing...'. There is no other way of explaining it though is there? You can't describe 3 months of travelling in Peru to a person who is only asking out of politeness without them becoming extrememly bored as they will never have the slightest inclination to do anything of that kind, despite the fact they all say 'oh, I'd LOVE to do that'...well then, to coin the Nike tagline 'JUST DO IT'. But then I don't have responsibilities like children and mortgages so it's easy for me to say that.
It's NOT like a holiday and I most certainly won't "do what you have to do and put it all away in a little box in your mind to remember fondly of as *just* a holiday and now you have to get back down to earth and earn some money" I quote. Because, no matter how short a space of time it seemed, it was life and family, NOT A HOLIDAY. Holidays are easy.

Then there's those who HAVE been out there and done it and have been in a similar situation to which the dreamy sigh and 'it was amazing' is all they need to understand. I am hugely grateful for and thankful to a couple we know who will welcome us into their home any time to share stories and offer a bed so we can just have a little 'breathing space' .

The travelling spirit is being kept alive a little as we are homeless, jobless, moneyless, all our personal belongings are stored between three different houses so the essentials are being carted around in a rucksack, we only have public transport to use (or cadjing a lift where possible) and finding ourselves walking stupidly long distances accross town because the taxi fare is more than we are prepared to pay.

Although a place to call home would be lovely I enjoy this semi-nomadic lifestyle - after all, home is where the heart is - or at least where you hang your hat. It is still a little disappointing when you realise the clouds in the distance are just that and not the snow capped peaks of several 6000m mountains clustered just a few days away.

These are my thoughts now. They will change with time I am sure, as I adjust. After all the nature of travelling is one of constantly living in these 'two worlds' and having to adjust as you move around - I look forward to it yet I am scared of forgetting what has been.

*Disclaimer: Sorry if I have offended anyone*

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Comments

[Mary]

homing in
Stephanie, You probably are greiving, and that's quite natural. In a way, I'm heartened that you are, as it tells me that you have the heart of a traveler. So don't worry that you are going to "forget" what has been, what you have been through...the heart doesn't forget. Oh, your mind might not remember all the names of places and the dates of events in years to come, but speaking as an old traveler, the impact you are feeling now won't entirely disappear. I have always found the 'culture shock' of homecoming to be more intense than the shock I feel upon journeying to a new place. It is the sense of disconnectedness from the familiar and beloved, which gets to me, and you describe this feeling very well. I always feel like Rip Van Winkle, suddenly awakened from a fabulous dream, which none of my friends or family can conceive. And you are right not to frustrate yourself in trying to get them to understand all that has happened inside yourself. Nor do you yet know...it does take time to process, as you said. Hold onto your sense of 'outsiderness' for a while, if you can...I think that the scrutiny you are giving your life's direction right now is an invaluable part of taking a long journey away from your own culture. You now have the eyes to see what it is that you do and don't like about your former life, your current and future plans. It's fine to sit a while with a cup of tea and just let your thoughts boil up...it's lovely that you don't have to start school immediately. Hang out as much as you can...pretend that you are still traveling. Ease back into English life rythyms. You are probably correct that some of your current confusion stems from your inexperience, but, believe me, it's there for every thinking being upon Re-entry no matter what their age. All the best to you and Martin, too. M.