When Travel Helps You Appreciate Home
“Maybe that’s the best part of going away for a vacation – coming home again.” ~ Madeleine L’Engle, “Meet the Austins”
I had been dreaming peacefully – well, as peacefully as one can when riding a sweltering overnight bus along winding roads of Ecuador with a TV blasting low-budget murder movies – when I suddenly woke in a panic. My backpack – it was gone.
¿Dónde está mi mochila? I asked the man in the seat behind me, who happened to be awake at 2 a.m. Suspicious.
He shrugged, shaking his head. When I had gone to sleep I had looped it around my ankle so if anyone took it I would wake up. Obviously, my plan had not worked.
The driver must have seen me searching under the seats for it, when he came over and pointed to the rack above my head. Apparently, he had been trying to do me a favor, not knowing how I usually slept with one eye open on these buses guarding my things.
I gave him a wry smile, taking my bag down from the shelf and hugging it. I was exhausted, not just from lack of sleep, but from traveling in general. From having to sleep on uncomfortable buses while hugging my purse, having to make new friends and say goodbye to them three days later, constantly being lost, craving pork chops and meatloaf and not being able to take a hot bubble bath and read a trashy novel. I loved culture shock more than anything, but after awhile it could really make you appreciate home.
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