It is strange to be home.
We've been back in the States for a week and a half, and I'm still wandering about a little lost and shell-shocked. Of all the places I've visited this year, the United States is by far the most shocking and strange. Anyone who has spent time with me the last few days can attest to my wide-eyed staring at people baring their knees and shoulders in public, or my enthusiasm at seeing anyone in a sari. I can't get over how many blond people there are here, or how there are no cows on any of the roads. Crossing the street is hazardous, and drivers get frustrated with my casual strolling in front of traffic. Living in a country where there are not calls to prayers every few hours, and where life does not revolve around religion is strange. It is harder to find the divine here.
There are other realizations, namely that everyone in the world is trying to be Minnesotan. It's an overplayed topic, but honestly all the trendy, tight pant wearing biker geeks and fashionistas in the world are copying Twin Cities fashion. You may wonder how I know this, and the answer is that around the world, there are small pockets of trendy devotees, but only here does EVERYONE do it. We are the critical mass that shows the world. Normally dressed people are weird in the 612 (our phone area code for those of you non-locals), particularly when juxtaposed with thousands of their all out peers.
Being vegetarian is also a distinctly persecuted way of life in the U.S. Probably thanks to some evangelical vegetarians, abstaining from eating meat is treated as a judgement towards omnivores, not a personal choice. Keeping a pure vegetarian diet is hard enough for someone obsessed with salami and sausage, and having people berate me for trying out different culinary habits is a mildly amusing affair. In India, I noticed that I would get dirty looks occasionally for what I wore in public, but that nobody cared what I believed or ate. Adjusting to the norms everywhere was one of the most complex affairs, and gave me intense respect for those who straddle two or more cultures in their lives. The gap between british and american is small enough for me, and seeing people elegantly switch from being american to indian, or dozens of other combinations, was a lesson in observation and wonder.
You get a lot of raised eyebrows after coming back from such exciting experiences and attempting to explain succinctly what you did in 10 months, on 22 planes, to six different countries. People want to know what your favorite experience was (probably celebrating Carnaval in Sitges, Spain) or your favorite place (my heart beats for Nantes and my lovely friends there). Last year pre-gap I lost my temper more than once over silly things, exploding without reason or reasonability. After seeing so much on the extreme side of life, very little merits having an overreaction.
Little by little I see small changes in Minneapolis, and how I interact in this community. I was working at my cafe job and a trio of girls walked in, and ordered in heavy accents. I heard them chatting amongst themselves in french, and took the rest of their orders in french. Friends! These days my sense of geography is much more personal and immediate. I can ask people about their countries with more of a sense of where they are and what they are like, and through hearing about what they love about Minneapolis, I see my city through the eyes of foreigners.
My life is still as adventurous and bizarre here, which makes me think that perhaps keeping a blog or a record of my affairs is a worthy endeavor. There must be an audience out there who wants to hear about the man who feels the auras of our cafe's quiches before selecting a slice, or what it is like to be a segway tour guide. Honestly, I babysit adults as they play with segways by the riverfront.
We shall see. On the whole, it is good to be home.
We've been back in the States for a week and a half, and I'm still wandering about a little lost and shell-shocked. Of all the places I've visited this year, the United States is by far the most shocking and strange. Anyone who has spent time with me the last few days can attest to my wide-eyed staring at people baring their knees and shoulders in public, or my enthusiasm at seeing anyone in a sari. I can't get over how many blond people there are here, or how there are no cows on any of the roads. Crossing the street is hazardous, and drivers get frustrated with my casual strolling in front of traffic. Living in a country where there are not calls to prayers every few hours, and where life does not revolve around religion is strange. It is harder to find the divine here.
There are other realizations, namely that everyone in the world is trying to be Minnesotan. It's an overplayed topic, but honestly all the trendy, tight pant wearing biker geeks and fashionistas in the world are copying Twin Cities fashion. You may wonder how I know this, and the answer is that around the world, there are small pockets of trendy devotees, but only here does EVERYONE do it. We are the critical mass that shows the world. Normally dressed people are weird in the 612 (our phone area code for those of you non-locals), particularly when juxtaposed with thousands of their all out peers.
Being vegetarian is also a distinctly persecuted way of life in the U.S. Probably thanks to some evangelical vegetarians, abstaining from eating meat is treated as a judgement towards omnivores, not a personal choice. Keeping a pure vegetarian diet is hard enough for someone obsessed with salami and sausage, and having people berate me for trying out different culinary habits is a mildly amusing affair. In India, I noticed that I would get dirty looks occasionally for what I wore in public, but that nobody cared what I believed or ate. Adjusting to the norms everywhere was one of the most complex affairs, and gave me intense respect for those who straddle two or more cultures in their lives. The gap between british and american is small enough for me, and seeing people elegantly switch from being american to indian, or dozens of other combinations, was a lesson in observation and wonder.
You get a lot of raised eyebrows after coming back from such exciting experiences and attempting to explain succinctly what you did in 10 months, on 22 planes, to six different countries. People want to know what your favorite experience was (probably celebrating Carnaval in Sitges, Spain) or your favorite place (my heart beats for Nantes and my lovely friends there). Last year pre-gap I lost my temper more than once over silly things, exploding without reason or reasonability. After seeing so much on the extreme side of life, very little merits having an overreaction.
Little by little I see small changes in Minneapolis, and how I interact in this community. I was working at my cafe job and a trio of girls walked in, and ordered in heavy accents. I heard them chatting amongst themselves in french, and took the rest of their orders in french. Friends! These days my sense of geography is much more personal and immediate. I can ask people about their countries with more of a sense of where they are and what they are like, and through hearing about what they love about Minneapolis, I see my city through the eyes of foreigners.
My life is still as adventurous and bizarre here, which makes me think that perhaps keeping a blog or a record of my affairs is a worthy endeavor. There must be an audience out there who wants to hear about the man who feels the auras of our cafe's quiches before selecting a slice, or what it is like to be a segway tour guide. Honestly, I babysit adults as they play with segways by the riverfront.
We shall see. On the whole, it is good to be home.
