Adjusting.
Adapting.
Changing.
Acceptance.
Coming back from Chile was originally too easy. I knew it the moment I stepped off the plane. It was all too easy to be true.
A whirlwind summer of reunions, of unions, of meetings and parties and outings made coming back to the United States an experience of many different sorts. You, friend, could say that maybe I didn’t allow myself time to adjust or to really process my “home”coming. I feel like maybe I’ve been somehow avoiding the chore of dealing with my feelings towards having to leave Chile by maxing out my schedule this fall.
At times, I feel like that’s a good thing. Idle hands won’t have time to pick at my idle heart; idle fingers won’t sort through the emotions of missing a home and a routine that had been normalized to the point of being… well, normal. But then, when I let my guard down, Chile creeps back onto my radar. It sneaks into my dreams, silently turning knobs and nudging open the doors to my mind and my imagination and Chile tip toes through my thoughts, pushing memories of friends and places into my vision so that for a while, a short while, all I can think about is last year. Chile has this sly way of penetrating my being so that I can taste one of Amira’s sopaipillas, her famous salsa arabe dripping off the edge of the bread. I can feel the grease on my fingers as I reach into my wallet for my BIP! card, scanning it and pushing my way onto the bus, nestling into a spot shoulder-to-shoulder with other people making their way up Irarrazaval to the comfort of their homes.
I miss Chile, friend. I do. I miss it terribly to the point that I want nothing more than to go back for just a bit and revisit everything and everyone.
But I realize that Chile was an experience. It was a time in my life that has shaped me and provided me with an endless source of energy and inspiration. And I love that. But I also realize that maybe missing Chile, maybe the acknowledgment that I’m not in Chile anymore and the pain of accepting that, is part of the process of coming back. Maybe, friend, I should have given myself time when I got back to think these thoughts.
“Reverse Culture Shock” is the term they use, I think. It’s the idea that, after having experienced culture shock upon entering a new place for the first time, you can experience the same feelings when coming back to your original culture some time later. I can’t say that I’m at all or in any way “shocked” by the United States. For the most part, the country continues to be the same one I left. We continue to believe that we are THE “America.” And by “we” I mean White Male America. We continue to be a country where everyday citizens can consider themselves poor despite several television sets and sofas in their house. We continue to be a country that oppresses and denigrates and marginalizes minorities. We are the America that can preach against yet simultaneously practice colonialism and cultural genocide. We are the few, the proud, the Red, White and Blue.
I’m not shocked by these things. I am shocked by how easily I came back to them. Maybe that’s part of the process, too. I’m willing to say that to just about anything right now, friend. In thinking about readjusting to life in California, I can’t imagine there is one right or wrong way of doing things. I can, however, see there being guidelines, and one of those, I’m sure, is to be open to new things, as was my policy in going to Chile.
So far, friend, I have to say that this approach has worked quite well and that, in leaving a country I grew to love and identify with, being open to new things has made coming back to “familiarity” a surprising and welcome adventure.
Chile will be forever, but it never was forever. I’ll never forget it. I’ll go back. I’ll dream of it always and often. But I have to do me. I have to do what I do, where I’m at. And I have to learn to create, seek and welcome happiness here.
I’m not sad over Chile. No. I don’t want you to think that. But I do want you to know that I’m working through whatever one would call my feelings about last year. I’m readjusting quite nicely. I’m happy. And I’m happy that you are a part of this adventure that we call “living.”
