Hello Fellow Fish,
I found myself on a plane, bound for the United States of
America. It was surreal to be finally making my way home. In a way, I had been
looking forward to this since I split up from the rest of the guys in India.
Hearing about them getting settled back into “normal life” as best they can,
and knowing they were back home with family and old friends made me long for
that life too. Even though, they’d probably say I was the one who was lucky
enough to NOT be home yet. Don’t get me wrong, there was not a single second
that I took for granted during my time in Europe, but it definitely made me
think a little bit about what was to come.
A big reason I decided to come home was to see my youngest
brother play his senior year of varsity football. As some of you might know, I
had a grand plan to be gone an additional 2 years and go through Africa and
South America before making my way back home. Which would have brought my time
away to about 5 years total. But I started thinking and reflecting a lot and
realized, my youngest brother was at every single one of my School sporting or
music events and I hadn’t seen any of his. This ate at me on the inside and I
promised to not miss any of his games the entire season. I’m proud to say I lived
up to that and very soon was a fixture amongst the over zealous team dads,
getting rowdy and going nuts when my brother did well.
Anyways, I was on the flight back to America, going to
Colorado via Newark to see my good friends Sledge and Justinfected in Denver
before returning home for good. The gravity of returning home really started to
sink in about an hour before landing. As if my iPod knew exactly what was about
to happen, it shuffled to the perfect song for my situation: This is Home, by
Switchfoot. After landing, I found myself reflecting and bracing myself for the
inevitable reverse culture shock that surely awaited me once I walked off the
plane. But in those moments, I started thinking about all the things I had
missed about this great country.
At passport control, the guy took my passport for inspection
with the abruptness and discourteous snatch that one comes to expect from a
NJ/NY TSA officer. I was, however, taken aback and almost moved to tears when
this gruff and obviously bored individual handed my passport back, looked me in
the eye and said, “Welcome home.”
I don’t know if I was just being over sentimental, I don’t
know if he says that to every guy who walks through his little gate, but those
two words resonated with me and I could not have been happier to have been
“Home.”
DENVER
I was greeted by the one and only Sledge Foster at the
Denver airport. Back at his house, I got settled, showered, and happened to weigh myself for the first
time since I had left. I had lost about 25 pounds while traveling. This was
remarkable considering all the terrible eating habits I had developed while I was away and
especially when you consider all the beer I drank.
I spent the 10 days in Denver with Jeff, Justin, and Beret. Since
Jeff and Beret were the locals, we went on a driving Tour of Colorado, on our
way to Aspen for a few days of camping. The trailhead started just outside of
town and it was a 10 mile hike up and in to the mountains to reach the
Conundrum Hot Springs. I started out the hike wearing my brand new sneakers,
the first new pair of shoes I had bought in many years. Once I realized that
they might get ruined, I decided to put them away and do the entire hike in
flip-flops. It would rain intermittently making the hike less than ideal, but
once at the top, the hot springs made it all worth it. We set up camp and
jumped in the bath-like springs. There were a few other people already in the
water when we arrived, and if you tried to picture the type of person you might
encounter at a wild hot spring in Rocky Mountains of Colorado, that’s who was
there. One skinny bearded fella (not Jeff) spoke with the air of an old hippy
doing his best to articulate a really profound thought through the haze of some
mind-altering substance. The topic of the moment for him was: him trying to
convince us, how with enough practice, he could assume the consciousness of an
animal and basically control the animal’s body. It was quite a trip.
HOME
After my 10 days in Colorado, I was once again, on a plane
back to NJ. This time, for good. I had my brother pick me up at the airport and
drive me home to surprise my mom. She hates surprises so, naturally, she wasn’t
very pleased. That passed, and we went out as a family and basically played
catch up on our lives from the last few years. Being at home felt good but
strange. With all the familiarity of the people and places came certain
expectations that just weren’t happening. It occurred to me that everyone had
adjusted to life without me around, and that was a very humbling realization.
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| 14 inches of hair |
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| Surprised mom |
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| First meal back home |
After almost 3 full years, 20+ countries, 4 continents, and
14 inches of hair grown, I was back in New Jersey. Back home. Little did I know
all the attention this blog would get me, just writing about my travels. As it
turned out, a local reporter saw this blog and got in touch with me and wrote a
front-page story about my travels. I had no idea this would eventually snowball
into a Front Page story for mine (and Ariel’s) local newspaper, which got the attention of another reporter and became Front Page article of
the regional North Jersey newspaper, and ultimately the Front Page of nj.com, the state of New Jersey's main newspaper outlet. I felt like a local
celebrity, if even just for a while, as Robbie would come home from school and
tell me how his friends and his friends’ parents saw my articles or being
stopped at my brother’s football games by people saying, “Hey! Are you that guy
that traveled?!” It was very flattering.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Since my return, I’ve been able to reflect upon all the
things that I have learned about myself and the world from my travels. While I
doubt that I will take another 3 years off, I don’t see myself ever stopping
traveling. It’s like a drug, where every time I return to routine or
familiarity, all I can think about is where I’ll get the next fix or the next
high of being somewhere completely new in a country where I don’t speak the
language; completely lost yet completely content.
For the time being, “My West Quest” has ended. I can say
with absolute certainty, that traveling was more than seeing sights, or
checking another place off the list. In the words of T.S. Eliot, “It is the
journey not the destination that matters,” and my journey is best measured in the relationships I made and the experiences I had along the way, rather than distances I
traveled to do so. I’ve made it my mission to convince as many people, young
and old, to drop what they’re doing and go somewhere, do something, and get out
of their realm of comfort. Traveling is a different story for everyone, and the
world is a book, but those that don’t travel only read one page.
Until Next Time,
Tuna
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