Home Sweet American Home

Dear all,
As many of you know, I’ve just returned from a month long visit back to the states. Wow, what a beautiful mess that was. I was so busy, I hardly had time to breathe, let alone write about the adventure. Ok, that’s not entirely true, but I consider resting a part of life’s necessary work. So when you factor in all of my resting time too, I really was manically busy. That said, instead of trying to give you a play by play of the trip, I’d rather tell you about what it feels like to return home after so much time away and about what this short pilgrimage showed me about how I’ve changed…and how I haven’t.

I have to say, I found the visit a very strange experience. I had been forewarned about “reverse culture shock”, but that’s not how I would describe my reaction to being home again. Sure there were some American habits I’m no longer proud of, but largely, I was amazed by how, within a few days of my returning, life continued on as though I’d never left. For me, this was both a miraculous and puzzling return to the life I had left behind. In some ways it was thrilling; the secret fear of all travelers is that home will change beyond recognition while we are gone, or worse still, that our little place in what was once our whole world will close up and we will never have a space to fit in to again.



But at the same time, it was disturbing, for the space that I’d left behind no longer fit the me I’d brought back, and I couldn’t fathom how my world didn’t have room for the things that had become so essential to who I am. Of course, part of this is Buffalo’s fault. I can’t even begin to express how strange it is to visit a place called home and find nothing of my soon to be husband in it. It was as if he’d simply been a dream, and I’d awoken to find him gone. But it was more than just this estrangement from a loved one. It felt as if an entire year of my life had vanished, and I had no way of accounting for it. I could try to describe that long year to those around me, but again it was like trying to describe a dream world to the waking. As an anthropologist, I often think of myself as a translator of cultures, as someone who can explain the meaning beyond what is simply said aloud. And in this sense, I felt like a failure on this visit home. I had come to know Nepali culture, but I realize now, I hadn’t learned how to make it known to others. It’s a mistake I’m earnestly going to work to rectify.

Of course, part of me wants to blame others for asking the wrong questions, or for being too caught up in the exoticism of it all, but I know most of the fault was my own. And in particular there was one question that was asked again and again, but I was never able to answer well. In fact, the answer didn’t come to me until yesterday morning. Time and time again, people asked me why I liked living in Nepal given all the creature comforts I forgo. It’s a question I probably should have asked myself before now, but I knew myself to be happy here and thought that was enough. I told some of you, it was the mountains, or the people, or the challenge. But the truth dawned on me quite simply the other morning just as I woke up. I opened my eyes as a cool breeze from the window swept across my room and guided my gaze to the just waking city several stories below my flat. It was 7 am, and I was glad to be awake. I got up slowly, truly enjoyed a cup of tea, and thought about the day that was stretching out in front of me. Though I was back in Nepal, back to the “grind” from my vacation in the states, I felt a relaxation and a peace I only know here. In the US, mornings, even lazy mornings that don’t start till 10, are something I dread. The day is undoubtedly going to be hectic, the work will be on someone else’s schedule according to someone else’s ideas, and everything I need to do, I will have to do alone. But in Nepal, that’s simply never the case. My line of work allows me enormous freedom, in Nepal, even more so. Nepalis recognize that stress is useless, and they simply avoid it. They see no need to rush to get something done, simply because there’s some sense that it’s important. The mentality of now, now, now, simply fades away. And the things that are truly enjoyable in life, finally get a few minutes to be, amazingly, truly enjoyable. Even now as I write, there’s still a list of things I’ve yet to do today in my head, but I also know, that not a single one of them is worth another knot in my back, a horrible headache, or being short with my buffalo simply because I’m stressed out. And it seems like such a simple thing, but to me, it makes the difference between being alive and living. Someday I hope to master this enough on my own that I can feel this way no matter where I go, but for now, I can only enjoy this Nepali life here, in Nepal.

More to follow very soon, (This time I swear it's already written!)

Lots of Love,