Back in Red, Yellow, and Green

“Has traído el frió contigo, Clara!” (“You brought the cold back to Pucará, Claire!”), they tell me upon my return from vacation a couple of days ago. I was so anxious to arrive, that despite the bitter cold and muddy streets, I walked around town, greeting my good friend Yuma, stopping by the mayor’s office to let them know I was here, and searching for Osito in the plaza. I felt like years had passed since I was last here, it was nice to see that nothing had changed; the pile of rocks in front of my house was still there and Doña Inez was in her usual spot selling Sunday lunch and Jell-o to those who wanted. The wind was cold alright, but after a warm two weeks in the States, it was bearable. I went home to Virginia to surprise my dad for his 60th birthday; my plane from Santa Cruz was late, so the surprise at 1:00 in the morning wasn’t as exciting as it would have been surprising him at home, but nevertheless worth the trip!

I settled excitedly into my childhood room, jumped on my bed, took a scalding hot bath, walked barefoot on the carpet, stuck my head in the freezer; I even went through pictures and memories of life before “Oblivia.” I awoke the next day, thinking I needed to put on shoes to walk to the bathroom, but instead saw my mom bringing me a cup of tea; its one of those experiences you amaze yourself at how easy it is to fall back into a routine, even after two years. Every step I took, however, felt a bit new. Running around the neighbourhood at such a low elevation made me feel like I could win the Boston Marathon, and I almost panicked walking into my local Safeway grocery, not knowing where to look or what seemed edible behind all the plastic wrapping. Instead of everything feeling new, though, I think it’s just that I now see things with changed eyes, as if everything had a new value. Why would you need to buy 20 rolls of toilet paper, when you can just buy two at a time at your local tienda? Why is “fresh” lettuce sold in a plastic bag? As I was suffering a case of reverse culture shock, I allowed myself to enjoy the benefits of such a life…Sharp cheddar cheese, 7-11 slurpees, sushi, microwaves, hair straighteners, washing machines and dryers, comfortable couches, 300+ television channels… all things I couldn’t really find much to complain about! But of course the best part of this trip weren’t the amenities I was happy to have, but the people I was with. Spending time with my family and various friends was by far the highlight. I went to New York City, shopped in Manhattan (and realized people spend more on their pets’ weekly grooming than I have on my own grooming in the past two years!), walked the streets of my sister’s diverse Brooklyn neighbourhood, ate hot dogs and rode the Cyclone at Coney Island, even visited the new terminal hub/memorial at ground zero, and strolled through Central Park. Through all of these activities, I appreciated the aesthetic beauty of cityscapes and the amalgam of languages spoken in the streets. I could see the draw to living in the States, despite the lukewarm reputation we have abroad, and for someone who was completely disillusioned with living there before, it was a welcoming surprise.

Like most vacations, they pass in the blink of an eye; fortunately there were few mishaps, aside from running a stop sign that was definitely not present last time I was home and saying something in Spanish on occasion. But the funny thing was, I realized that like Pucará upon my arrival two days ago, life in the States hasn’t changed that much either. I guess I am the one who has, and whether it is for better or for worse, it feels good to know that travelling and experiencing the ends of the world are indeed the best decisions I’ve made in all my 24 years.