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Beautiful, but not quite home

3/31/23
I’ve had a revelation. While traveling, I’ve noticed that I’ve enjoyed the sights and seeing all the new things that Spain and Europe have to offer, but every time I’ve visited a new place or seen an interesting landscape, there’s always been something missing. 
For a while, I couldn’t place it. Maybe it was just me adjusting to being in a foreign land. Maybe it was the fact that although the land itself is different here, there are still some similarities to the United States and the land that I know. 
But I realized what it is. Whenever I traveled around the U.S., there was always still that sense of home, that sense of belonging. My family went to the east coast for Easter a couple of years back and we stayed in a house right on the beach, with patios and decks facing the ocean merely an arm’s stretch away. I loved that house. I loved being able to go out at night onto the deck and watch the waves and the moon. Maybe I loved it because there was always a possibility that I could have that life. If I should choose to someday, there was the genuine possibility I could move to North Carolina and live my life on the beach watching the waves. A plausible dream inspired by my dreamy experience. 
Anywhere I traveled in the U.S., there was always a sense of shared ownership. Does that make sense or do I just sound arrogant? I could look at the forest or the lakes or the open fields and feel that I could belong there someday.
Here, it’s not the same. 
I look out at the open and desert fields, the mountains that I pass on the bus and don’t have that secure feeling of citizenship. This foreign land could never be mine, never be my home. I don’t know its history, I don’t know how old it is, how livable it is - even in my imagination. 
It’s beautiful. It’s inspiring. It’s a privilege to be here. But I am, and will always be, an outsider. It’s just a different feeling, you know? 
As you can probably tell from these ruminations, it’s been a chill week and a chill weekend. I visited the labyrinth of Tim Burton and watched a children’s Spanish movie at the theater (so I could better understand what was happening). I spent quite a bit of time reading in a cute cafe and ended up becoming stressed because author Diana Gabaldon really likes to keep her readers on their toes I guess. 
The countdown for my return is around 40 days now, which is actually incredible since it still feels like I got here barely a month ago. 
My Determination: “I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you're alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it.” - Neil Gaiman, American Gods

 

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