Transitioning

As I write this, I'm sitting in place far different than where I would usually compose my blog posts. Today, instead of a white powdery beach and a vibrant blue ocean constituting my field of view, green, lush deciduous forests, soft grasslands, encompass a gentle lake and fill the scene. It is beautiful. The weather is nothing short of perfect, and this is no exaggeration. Crisp clear air wisps over my skin chilling it slightly. Before I chill too much, the sun warms me up, but never too much. Cordial and fluffy clouds flow through the sky; all of them carry themselves without the threat of rain. This is magnificent.

Returning home has certainly been an experience; one that I've never experienced before. In that sense, it's been fun for many reasons. Social norms here are certainly different than in Fiji and in Thailand. For example, if you were to walk do the street in Fiji and waved, smiled, nodded, raised your eyebrows (that's a popular way of saying yes or “what's up”), at literally anyone, you would receive some form of acknowledgment back. It's just the way it was. Here, it's not the case. I find myself saying “hey” to a lot of strangers on the street (especially on lakeshore path while on a run) and most of the time, I receive no acknowledgement of any kind. What I receive is usually a cold stare straight ahead and usually down towards the ground. Some even go as far as to look at their feet. Some, however, do shoot you back a smile or nod, but it's certainly rare. That's been hard to get used to, actually, as I made it a habit while I was abroad to look passersby in the eye and acknowledge them in some way. It isn't a problem, but it is something that I never noticed before. To be honest, I've taken a liking to the mentality of acknowledging, even celebrating, instead of ignoring those who occupy the space around me, especially when running or hiking. William Allen White, whom I wasn't familiar with before I stumbled across one of his quotes, once said:

“If each man or woman could understand that every other human life is as full of sorrows, or joys, of heartaches and of remorse as his own... how much kinder, how much gentler he would be.”

I'm betting if someone took this to heart, they would gladly acknowledge others around them.

UW-Platteville put together an pamphlet for study abroad returnees and one of the “symptoms” it described was called the “critical eye.” Someone returning from abroad might look critically at the home nation. They may be disturbed by the amount of waste Americans produce, or quality of fast food, for exampke. It's good to be aware of though, because I found myself thinking some of these things. However, just as I may have thought critically about Fijian ways of life, I got used to it. The same story applies here.

It's funny that, no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to explain my experiences with justice. It simply won't happen. At first, it was a bit bothersome, but now I understand. It's not the stories that you'll tell others that define a trip. It's who you spent it with, mostly, but also with what you experienced and how those experiences changed you. Jared, one of Kyle's buddies, just got back from China. Today was the first day that he got the chance to describe to us what China was like for him. He would be asked a question, and, not long after he starting answering, we would be distracted by something else. I really don't think he ever got to fully answer a question of ours. It wasn't that he was boring, but rather because everyone else couldn't connect the dots like he could. There was, and forever will be, a disconnection and there is nothing to be done about it. He was a good sport about it though, it never seemed to bother him.