So my holiday is officially ended. I've spent the past 6 hours sitting in London's Heathrow airport waiting for my connecting flight back to the U.S. I met a young German cultural anthropologist named Sven on the plane who told me of the ins and outs of the Indian community that is growing in South Africa.
It's funny how quickly one slides back to Western ways. I've only left Africa for half a day and I already find myself looking around and wondering why no one is smiling at each other. I miss the friendly backpacking ways and all the excitement of life on the road. I miss the spirit of travelling. And I don't mean tourist-ing or business commuting, but truly travelling. The spirit that pervades you with its lifestyle and wraps you swinging into it, swaddled and rocked while you giggle. Already, the memory of Africa is fading fast. Even my souvenirs, that I coveted 24 hours ago like I would've coveted a new pair of shoes in my former life, seem foreign to me. All my efforts to grasp the feeling of travelling Africa are flouted as it slips through my fingers. It just feels so far away already within the context of Heathrow airport. And yet somehow, I feel as if I've been made whole by the experience. That any damage or bitterness remaining from my corporate days has been wiped away. Somehow, travelling Africa has made me more confident.
And despite my instinctive inclination to, I will not mourn Africa when I get home. I will not mope and shut myself in my room to steep in the memories, hoping to cling on to the vestiges. Because it's a part of me, and I will celebrate it. I will be joyous when I return home because my parents, who love me so much and allowed me to go despite their worries, deserve no less. And because I did miss them dearly.
I've come to terms with a few things on my trip. That you don't have to be beautiful as long as people believe you are. I learned that perhaps my nerdy high school days are over, despite my proclivity to cling to them. I can be generally well-liked by the public, and am not just a "niche" interest as I had previously assumed. Like a Star Trek fetish. I learned that 10 year old S. African boys know entirely too much about sex, and that the Queen of England should not use her famous wave in Soweto. I learned how to say "Sho sho!" like the locals and "Brilliant!" like the Brits. I learned how to take a compliment gracefully. I suppose what this trip has ultimately done is restore my faith in the world. That there really are beautiful things out there worth trying for. That I -can- make a difference in this world seemingly dominated by materialism and money. And that not everyone is out to get you. This trip has cured me, however temporarily and hopefully permanently, of the jadedness that permeates my peers. It makes me look at the world with bright eyes again and believe that I really have a future that will be great and exciting. That maybe I really can be someone. And not just think it or say it aloud to friends to convince myself, but truly believe it.
