"We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time."
This passage from T.S. Eliot's "Little Gidding" has long resonated with me as a precise description of the full-circle impact of travel. In exploring new places, I always learn a great deal about the world, and about other people and cultures. However, I also gain insights about myself and my own cultural lenses, particularly upon coming home.
Stage one of my return from Peru was definitely a honeymoon period; America is a land of treasures! Hot showers (and tap water!), carpeted floors, and highly efficient business systems, to name a few, made life here feel like a constant treat. Those of us lucky enough to grow up in the midst of such amenities often vastly under-appreciate the privileges these seemingly simple things bestow upon us, if we recognize them as privileges at all. I am grateful that my time in Peru helped me to notice and value the everyday magic that developed country infrastructure creates, and I continue to revel in the luxuries even ten months later.
While coming home to these creature comforts was luxurious, American culture soon started to feel like a suit that didn't quite fit. Thus began the phase of reverse culture shock, when it began to sink in that as a newly full-time U.S. resident, I needed to adapt back into American life, just as I initially adapted to life in Peru. The cultural tensions I've struggled with most surround the U.S.' comparative deprioritization of human relationships: days tend to be driven by an overzealous sense of urgency that emphasizes timeliness over full conversations; smartphone screens too often substitute for personal interaction, even when sitting at the same table; and many of our cities cater to neighbors zooming past in cars rather than greeting each other on a walk. Aside from the friends and host family I left in Peru, the thing I miss most about Cajabamba is the slower pace of life, and the genuine attention paid to building relationships within the small-town community.
Don't get me wrong: I am so happy to be home, and to have spent the past year reconnecting with my beloved family, friends, and hometown. But looking back on the ten months since my return from Peru, I can say that re-entry into American life remains an ongoing process of observing, reflecting, and compromising. Navigating the internal and external tensions between my Peruvian and U.S. experiences has been at times confusing, illuminating, or both, yet I have appreciated every step. I believe the dialogue has made me more grounded in who I want to be as a human being, regardless of my geographic location.
