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Published: December 11th 2019
Returning home from an overseas adventure is such a strange transition. There is part of you that is happy to see the familiar people and things you love. There is that bit of you that reassuredly reminds yourself routine is good. You go for the one food you have been craving from home and you begin the tedious process of catching up on what you missed while you were away and completely detached from the rest of your life.
Then there is that part of you that really didn’t want to return to the mundane, the part of you that gets a little addicted to adventure coupled with a complete lack of responsibilities. This part of you is already planning your next adventure and contemplating how you can make more money or get more vacation time so you can have even more time in foreign locations. This is where that little voice originates that tells you there is probably a way to do your job remotely or starts mentioning how you could sell your house, downsize to a small apartment, sell your belongings and afford more plane tickets.
But in the end, both parts of
you must face the inevitable transition. You must accept the drag of the rat race, succumb to the crappy weather and wear the burden of your responsibilities. You recognize you need to stop eating, drinking and spending like you are on vacation. You need to do those adult things both parts of you would like to avoid, like going to the gym, taking out the trash, going to bed at a reasonable hour and paying bills.
Part of this process involves that ominous task of unpacking. You take out those dirty clothes and face the laundry room. You pull out the souvenirs and begin handing them out to those loved ones not lucky enough to travel with you. And you start sorting the unbelievable amount of photos you took in your feeble attempt to catch the very essence of the place you visited.
But there is another unpacking that must take place to fully embrace this uncomfortable transition. There is the unpacking of all the thoughts that keep bouncing around in your head. That jumble of experiences that bang around and distract you as you are trying to brace yourself for your return to
normal. These are the thoughts that keep our heads in a bit of fog, similar to jet lag but much longer lasting. Little moments pop up or take over your thoughts as you cognitively try to make sense of and organize this overwhelming experience you just enjoyed.
Some of these thoughts make us laugh, some make us think. Some of them make us reframe how we see our world and the world we just visited. Some thoughts instill us with incredible gratitude and other thoughts make us feel envious. Occasionally, these thoughts alter the way we see ourselves, our relationships or our priorities. Sometimes these thoughts change us and sometimes they simply give us an interesting story to share when asked about our trip.
Either way, all these thoughts must be unpacked and compartmentalized in order for us to make sense of our adventure and allow us to be present in our return home. I find I have a collection of moments and conversations that keep gathering in my head after my return from India. Maybe these are the culprit to what feels like brain fog, or maybe they are just those nuggets that
keep us wanting more adventures in the future.
Enriching Conversations There is no doubt simple conversations have the ability to really stick with me once I have left a moment or a country. I cannot help but to be mindful of some conversations in particular.
My first night in Delhi I was speaking with a young woman who lived in Delhi and she was recommending I get a mask to wear while I was visiting the city so that I could manage the air quality. She told me how her mother came to visit her for a month long stay, but after 3 days she left and returned home because she could not handle the air quality. The young professional woman coughed through the entire exchange and my heart ached for her.
Then there was the older man who was trying to convince me that I needed to visited some of the most Northern parts of India. His son rattled off all the wonderful outdoor adventures that await visitors assuming they visit during certain times of the year. The man was lamenting the horrible air quality and
the constant commotion of Delhi. I asked him about returning to his home in the Kashmir region. He carefully addressed the political situation in Kashmir and responded like a diplomat, but then he got a faraway look in his eye and expressed his doubt he will ever be able to return home to live. He trailed off as he predicted he would not live long enough to see any solution to the political situation.
Questions of Origin It is not uncommon to be asked where you are from when you are traveling. It is a point of human interest and a great conversation starter at best. What sticks in my head is how often my answer surprised people even to the extent that it seemed some people didn’t believe me. One particular conversation made me curious.
“Where are you from ma’am?”
“America.”
“United States?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you born?”
“United States.”
”Ok, but where were your parents born?”
“United States.”
“BOTH of them?”
“Yes.”
Silence punctuated by head shaking.
I am kicking myself for not asking him where he thought I
should say I am from.
Then there are those people who want to know exactly where you are from. After you explain you not from New York, Los Angeles or California or wherever else that makes international headlines, you have to tell them you are from Kansas. I ward off the predictable blank stare by immediately saying, ”right in the middle.”
Then there are the people who want more information so they can picture exactly where you live. “Have you ever seen the Wizard of Oz?” The young people always say no and I realize I am dating myself with that one. The one that always seems to work, “Have you ever watched an old Western? Or heard of cowboys in Dodge City? Well, that is where I am from.” Bingo!
The funniest part is when you meet other Americans and you compare notes about home. On this trip, I was shocked at how many Americans had no idea we have winters in Kansas and Missouri. When I said things like it’s snowing at home, none of them could hide their shock. And the one that seemed the most blown away,
was a family from Michigan. Seriously?? Wanna know how I blew their minds? I told them we would have snow, below freezing weather and our ponds would freeze so thick we had to break ice for our cattle. I know they walked away thinking I was full of it.
You Call this Cold? Speaking of temperatures...I keep thinking about a little exchange I had with a young Indian man near Pushkar. I was walking to dinner one evening with the intention to eat and do some computer work al fresco. I was wearing sandals and leggings with a knee length short sleeve jacket and had a little internal dialogue about whether or not it was too hot to sit out or if I was just warm because I had been walking around.
I ate at the outdoor restaurant and sat for a few hours writing. While I was there an unusual little rain shower came through, but I was protected by an overhead arbor, so I kept working. After awhile, the waiter approached me and with sincere concern offered me a blanket. At first I was confused. What
is he talking about?
My face must have said it all as he began explaining. “I am wearing this shirt and sweater and I have been standing by the fire to keep warm. You have to be very cold.” Considering it was in the mid to upper 60’s, I was pretty sure I did not have to be cold. Trying to convince him I was more than comfortable, I told him I was enjoying the weather because I knew I would be returning to snow at home. His eyes were as big as saucers. I guess the lesson here is that even the seasons are relative.
It Always Comes Back to Connection I met a young woman working at a resort near Pushkar who exuded professionalism and like ability. She answered my questions and asked me many more questions. She started seeking me out each night I was walking around the grounds or going to dinner. As she walked with me, she informed she was from Bhutan and then looked at me to see how I would respond to her spontaneous sharing. I immediately told her I loved
Bhutan and thought it was a beautiful country. Her response seemed guarded and she looked at me like we were in the middle of a miscommunication of sorts. I could tell she did not believe me. “You know Bhutan?” Assuming she is probably used to people not knowing where Bhutan is located or knowing much about the country at all, I knew I needed some instant street cred. “Yes. Of course. I remember flying into Bhutan on a precarious tiny Druk Air flight.”
That did it. Good ol’ Druk Air got me the street cred I needed. She stopped walking, stared with her mouth open and then quickly flashed a huge smile. “You have been to Bhutan!” The air was quickly filled with talk of their king, his commitment to culture and a government that believes in environmental preservation.
One night at Sunset Cafe, the seats were filling in anticipation of another iconic sunset over the holy lake of Pushkar during the religious celebration. I had excellent seats because the waiters at Sunset Cafe, for some reason, took very good care of me each time I arrived. I had been there a
little while writing and some older Indian men were seated near me. One of them began asking me questions as it seemed unusual for a single white woman to be traveling alone. I explained I was there for the camels and shocked them a little bit when I said it wasn’t my first visit to India or Pushkar. But with a turn of events, they shocked me.
The other man asked me where I was from. Trying to be polite, but not super interested in turning away from my writing, I told them Kansas and went straight into the “it’s in the middle” directive. The man responded, “yes I know. My daughter lives in Kansas.” I was certain he misunderstood what I said. “Really?? In Kansas? Where?” He responded, “In Overland.” He obviously meant Overland Park. He proceeded to tell me he had been there and thought it was nice. In complete surprise, I told him that was only miles from home.
I suppose my mind will continue to unpack the many vignettes and moments that just happen to stick with me after a journey and I will allow myself the pleasure
of reliving these thoughtful exchanges to entertain, influence and effect me as part of this emotional unpacking of sorts.
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Raziq
non-member comment
Great Insight about the Camels in Rajasthan
Hi Valerie, You have written great article and insight about the camels in Rajasthan. It is really rich with great information about the camels and their crisis. The pictures and social connections of the article are charming indeed. I appreciate the way you write and express. Wish you great journey always. Raziq