Story #4: Aller-Retour

I’ve tried to write, but on those rare occasions where something has inspired me to write, I’ve felt unable to translate my thoughts into clear English sentences suitable for presentation. By the time I’d start editing, I’d have already thought to myself, “What the hell? This sucks”. So, on those rare inspired moments, I have resulted to just old fashioned processing whatever it is that just moved me in my lil ol’ brizzain. I’ll probably regret not sharing as things happen, since I’ve forgotten it all by now, but eh whatever, life goes on.

Well, since last time we convened, I’ve been home to California, for a wonderful three week vacation. The first time I’ve been in the states since I first got on the plane 18 months ago. At that point in September, I had built up the image of America in my brain to be close to god-like status, even coining it “The Promised Land.” As we all know reality and fantasy seldom agree and I was instantly plunged into the cold hard truths of rush hour Bay Area, California traffic. Somehow, every plan with each friend I had made required me to drive during rush hour, which totally reminded me that THIS aspect of American culture sucks. I even felt like I was driving home to the city after work like I did before Peace Corps. 

It’s funny, the road rage came back instantaneously as well. Within minutes of driving for the first time and changing the radio in typical ADD fashion, I found myself swearing under my breath Use your $%#% SIGNALS lady. Old habits die hard.

What wasn’t cool was one of the foods I was really looking forward to eating, potato wedges at Jack in the Box, was discontinued. What gives Jack?

The amazing and not amazing thing about being back was that I was right back into my roles and interactions that I had left off back in 2010 with the people in my life. It was amazing because I could slip into anonymity and not have every little thing be observed by everyone in the public. It was not amazing because with some people I felt like the distance had grown too much from my time away.

In general, especially during the beginning of being home, I didn’t really feel like I was home, more like a tourist in my own house, amongst my friends, within my own life even. I felt like I was taking a tour of Cliff in America in 2010 and thinking distractedly wow, I wonder how Snoopy’s doing right now, etc. Grass is greener syndrome probably.

What I appreciated the most was with those family members and friends that I was able to have genuine updates with about where I’ve been and vice versa. I realized those were relationships to hold onto.

On many occasions, I also felt my own brain comparing everything about American culture with Malagasy culture. Only with a select few did I find the comfortable space to dive into how completely different Madagascar is from Silicon Valley California.  On most occasions, I felt myself actively disregarding talks and thoughts about Madagascar due to it being completely out of context juxtaposed to every aspect of American life. 

I mean who wants to sound arrogant and depressing when you’re having a fifty dollar welcome home dinner for you by explaining how this is sad because it is more than a year’s salary for some people in my village. Embarrassingly, I almost shed a tear at one of my favorite sushi restaurants when I saw the price increase by three dollars for a 10 piece dish of sashimi. My usual self would probably have impulsively chose the 28 piece cause who cares I deserve it if I'm on vacation right bitches. But something was off.

Yeah...

 

Also, I also felt the pressure coming from the outside of what I was going to do next.

Are you gonna go home?

Are you going back to the office?

Are you going to be productive member of American society again…It’s been two years?

When is this little tour of poverty going to end?

But I genuinely feel like what I’m doing is so much realer now than everything I’ve done before. Yeah, I don’t have a real salary and benefits like I did, and I’m not actively planning for the future, but I really refuse to belittle how rewarding this job has been for me on every human level imaginable. Not to say that this job has been roses all the time, but it is true…this has been a completely seminal experience. 

Not many people ever get to experience this in their lifetimes. Although life here is foreign compared to life in the states, it’s become normal for me. I feel like I’m toggling between two homes. And I do feel like a very productive member of American society here, even more so than before. It’s definitely made me more patriotic. How much more American can you get? 

I feel like my time here is concretely significant, and more so than any comparable time in the states before. I love knowing and learning about this country. I love my little at-times disfunctional community here. I love it how they don't bother me if its before 9am, an ungodly hour to wake up at this time for any normal Malagasy, but because its me and we work for each other, they laugh and respect that the foreigner just cant and wont do mornings. My neighbors will explain to people "Oh Cliff doesn't wake up in the morning. You can wait until 9:30. He should be up by then." ... at like 6 AM. Haha. That's love I think.

On a completely superficial level, the Peace Corps is giving me experience that will make me completely badass when I’m back.

But

It is true what they say that you can slip into being abroad forever. I realize this will end. I do want to go home at some point. I admit, everyone at the end of their service asks themselves what’s next?

And the answer to that question is: I don’t know... and I like that.

Outtie.