Homeland Foreigner
Over a year of New Zealand living has ended. That concept hasn't really sunk in, even though I write this sitting in the grassy green gardens of Versailles, France, a quiet spot found leaning against a tree away from the tourist crowd. It's been two months, I am surrounded by a new country, new language and even still, I am in denial that New Zealand is over. I hit the ground running as soon as I touched U.S. soil, so a moment to contemplate and process an entire year of my life has not really happened. This is my first moment to myself and I've missed my own thoughts. That quiet space was filled up with two months' worth of emotional catch ups, technology updates, hugs and goodbyes all crammed into a short window of transitioning back into the world and society I knew while preparing for another adventure in Europe. I expected culture shock, America can be overwhelming coming back from living abroad (thank you Semester at Sea for that first international transition back). However, I did not expect to encounter myself as a foreigner in my own country and city. I cannot count how many times I was interrupted midsentence with another's laughter or comment on my accent. Strangers in malls, insurance agents on the telephone asking me where I was from. I enjoyed these encounters, perhaps being treated as a foreigner somehow allowed me to still feel linked to New Zealand. But as time passed, it became more frustrating. The need for normalcy an ever deepening desire not fulfilled with each blank stare when I would say "Sweet as" or "Cheers." I couldn't stay long enough to assimilate and part of me didn't want to, perhaps I did become a foreigner in my own country. The identity I established before I left just familiar memories and comforts that seem outdated now. This feeling makes my answer to those who curiously ask why I am traveling all the more poignant. Obviously, it is for personal life experiences and additions, a constant state of learning and challenges. But I am also searching for a reason to stay. A place where my entire identity, including all new additions, can root, expand and grow. Perhaps it's abroad, perhaps it's in Los Angeles or a new city. All these possibilities the biggest TBD of my life so far. Hopefully, the life risk and adventure leads this foreigner to a place where she belongs. When you live a life of transit, you long for it. For now, a comment I heard from a traveling pair of friends I met in NZ (they had been traveling abroad for over two years) seems to sum up all my ponderings at the moment: "The hardest thing about living travel is you are constantly leaving something or someone behind." So true. And in this instance, an entire country and year of my life. New Zealand, I am forever grateful. C'est la vie.
