my end is the road...

I can picture my parent's house. The image is crisp and clean. White light shines down on a neighborhood with clean and spacious streets, large lush lawns and neat, pretty homes, big and bigger. I see my childhood room, breakfast at the kitchen counter, driving to the store for groceries. There's not much resemblance to my life of late.

At home it won’t be dusty; the streets won’t be barely larger than a railroad track. No one will juggle for money at the stoplights. Stray dogs won’t be sprawled out on sidewalks and poor little children won’t be found selling candy outside the shops. There won’t be a Senora selling tamales or papas heladas on the street like there is now outside my office.

Potable water, hot and cold, will flow from taps everywhere. Gas will come from a pipe in the ground. Homes will be heated in the cold weather.

I’ll buy chicken at a supermarket, and I won’t ever take a taxi. People won’t think I’m different because of my appearance. Dirty blond hair and green eyes won’t give anything away.

There is a lot to look forward to, thinking of home. As smoothly and as naturally as I fit into a Peruvian way of life when I arrived last November, I will slip right out and into an American one. I can speak my language. I’ll fall back into my culture, my thing, the way I’ve always done it.

It is a sad transition and I dearly hope to return to this country one day in a way more suited to give back to the community some of what they have given to me.

When I came here, I spoke no Spanish. I was lost, beaten into defeat from circumstances beyond my control. People were there to take me in, teach me how to speak their language, eat their food, and travel their streets.

I guess the opportunity to make a list like this, to be able to compare and know so many different places in the world has been the educational experience of my lifetime.

I am so grateful of my opportunities around the world, of this blog that has been with me on a journey through love and learning, friendship, loneliness and heart-break. Through home-sickness and real sickness, truly through the best times of my life and the worst, for every single thing I am grateful.

I’ve made all kinds of decisions these past few years, I suppose some were smarter than others, but one thing I’ve never really been in control of is this longing to discover, to see things with my own eyes. I’m learning that there’s treasure everywhere, and the desire to keep digging it up is tattooed to my spirit. As long as I keep following my heart, it will keep leading me to more treasures.

Thanks for reading.

EM